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I was in town, picking up groceries, when it hit me. Heat. It came out of nowhere. My body went weak, my vision blurred, and my scent—oh god, my scent—spilled into the air like wildfire. Pheromones. Alphas nearby turned their heads, eyes darkening, and I knew I was screwed. “Shit, not now—” I ran. My legs barely worked, but instinct led me somewhere familiar. Somewhere safe. Before I realized it, I was standing in front of his building. The Alpha King’s secret apartment. “Anywhere but here,” I whispered—but my body had already decided. I stumbled to his door and pounded on it. When it swung open, he was there. Tall. Cold. Stunningly handsome, even in a simple black shirt. His eyes narrowed when he saw me—disheveled, trembling, blood dripping from a cut on my forehead. For a second, silence. Then his scent hit me—rich, powerful, dangerously Alpha. My knees nearly buckled. He didn’t say a word. Just stepped aside and let me in. And as the door shut behind me, the world seemed to stop. Because I knew—whether I liked it or not—my story with the Alpha King had just begun.