POV: Dante
Aurora leaves my office with the folder pressed tightly against her chest.
I close the door behind her and let the silence fall. The scent she left behind takes a while to dissipate. It's mixed with anger, mistrust, and that warm note that hasn't gone away since the night on the terrace.
It sits in my stomach like a stone.
I could have said less. I could have summed it all up with "it's better for you to sign with me" and that's it. I didn't. I showed her the well and the cage. Even so, I know I didn't give her everything.
I didn't tell her about the old part of the pact between clans. The one that doesn't appear in human laws.
I walk to the window.
From here, Nova Lyra looks orderly. The lights outline clean streets. The tall buildings promise merit and effort. No one sees the blood agreements buried under the contracts.
I ring the intercom.
"Sebastian, come in," I say.
He arrives shortly after.
"How did it go?" he asks, sitting down.
"I told her about the registry, the clans, Valcourt," I reply. "I offered her my name."
"And?" he insists.
"She didn't say yes. She didn't say no either," I reply. "She left with the idea mulling in her mind."
Sebastian nods.
"That's a good sign," he says. "Those who accept immediately tend to regret it just as quickly."
I don't deny it.
"Even so, she knows less than she should," I add. "I didn't tell her about the old clause."
"The 'Two Omegas, one war' clause," he says.
I look outside.
Generations ago, when the clans still killed each other in alleyways, a simple pact was written: no clan can forcibly retain an Omega marked by another. If it does, the rest have the right to declare open war.
What wasn't written down was the other part: unmarked Omegas are still fair game.
Aurora is there. Too visible to ignore. Too "free" to be safe.
"Valcourt has already broken the spirit of the pact several times," I say. "He knows how to navigate the loopholes.
"That's why he wants her," Sebastián replies. "If they manage to get her to their side before you register her, they can say it was 'choice'. No one is going to go to war over an intern with no last name."
He's right. Names carry more weight than people.
"If I mark her," I say, "I put my clan first. If I don't, I hand her over on a silver platter."
"Sooner or later, you'll have to choose which risk you prefer," he replies. "War on the outside or storm on the inside."
He doesn't answer for me. He never does.
He gets up.
"Do you want me to monitor the foundation's responses?" he asks.
"Yes," I reply. "If more invitations arrive, I want them in my inbox before hers."
When he leaves, the office is silent again.
I open a file I hardly ever touch.
"Internal Records - Clan Noir."
The list is short. We don't like to accumulate Omegas. We're not Valcourt. Every name on the list brings responsibilities that last for decades.
I look at the files. Few. One couple far away, another dead in a war that humans never knew existed.
I know how much a record weighs.
I close the file.
Later, my father calls.
His face appears on the screen in my private office. Gray hair, amber eyes darker than mine.
"I received an interesting report," he says. "An Omega without a clan, inside your tower, linked to a project that interests half the world. Aurora Vega."
I don't ask how he found out.
"I'm protecting her," I reply.
"You're also branding her slowly," he replies. "Forms, cameras, 'primary contact'. You think the others don't notice, but they do."
I clench my jaw.
"Valcourt has already approached her," I say. "If I don't draw the line, they'll take her for their own."
"And what do you plan to do?" he asks.
"Offer her registration under Noir," I reply. "Let her choose."
My father is silent for a moment.
"Just protection?" he asks finally.
I know what he means.
"She's my analyst," I say. "She's my responsibility."
He laughs softly.
"Dante, son, you can fool the human directors," he says. "But not me. I've seen that look in others before. And I know how it ends when biology mixes with politics."
I stare at him.
"I'm not taking what she won't give me," I reply.
"I hope not," he says. "Because if you claim her completely, you won't just be facing Valcourt. You'll be speaking for all of Noir. And old debts will be awakened.
Old debts.
Valcourt and Noir weren't always on opposite sides. There were pacts, alliances, shared blood, and spilled blood.
I didn't tell Aurora that story either.
"First I need her to survive her first heat," I say. "Then I'll see what she can handle."
My father nods.
"Do it quickly," he says. "The clans smell new blood. And few things unite them as much as the desire to take it from the son who wants to play the hero."
The call ends.
I'm left alone with a black screen.
I think of Aurora in her apartment, unable to sleep. Of her body racing without a manual. Of Elías timing her. Of my own clan watching.
There are things I didn't tell her.
That if she accepted my name, she wouldn't just come under my protection. She would enter our history, with all its shadows. That the price of being safe from some is becoming a target for others. That part of me wants her far from the tower, far from me.
And another part can't bear to imagine her with another surname.
I turn off the lights in the office.
As I descend in the elevator, the reflection in the metal returns the image of a man who believed himself ready to lead a tower, negotiate with clans, stop Valcourt.
He wasn't ready for an Omega who looks at him as if he has to justify every wall he builds around her.
The countdown continues.
And when the time comes, she won't ask permission to walk through the door.