Chapter 2

She nervously waited in line for her turn. She had spent some money on a nicer shirt, as all of her old ones were too worn to look presentable.

The twins probably wouldn’t care what she wore, but she still wanted to make a good impression.

People had stared at her oddly when she signed up. An omega might struggle to handle the presence of alphas, much like betas, due to their naturally weaker physicality. Despite the stares, she stayed in line, waiting patiently. Her bones still ached slightly from the previous night.

Being in the small, crowded room made her wolf restless. It had been years since she had shifted, and the anxiety was almost unbearable. Most wolves shifted at least once a week, sometimes daily—it was dangerous not to. Anastasia rarely did, and when she did, it was only for brief moments in the safety of her room. She was too afraid to spend more than an hour in her wolf form if anyone saw her.

It was the third and final day of the competition, and as she scanned the line of hundreds, she wondered how the alphas hadn’t yet found their mates.

Nearby, two omegas whispered about the alphas—how they had prepared gifts over the years for their mates, how one rumor said the Sinclair twins had built an entire house for theirs. Anastasia’s envy flared; their mate would be extremely lucky, unlike her. She didn’t understand why her omega had guided her here—was she to show herself to the Sinclairs, even though her wolf form was her most valuable part? Would they dismiss her as not their mate yet still take interest, so the real mate could be discovered later?

Hours passed, feeling like minutes, until her name was called. A chaperone led her into the Sinclair compound and outside a private room. As she approached, the scent of the twins enveloped her—dark chocolate and sea salt, comforting yet tension-inducing.

She stepped inside, trembling, finally facing the twins. She knew they had spoken to the other suitors earlier, but she had arrived too late. Now, standing before them, she wished she had been prepared.

Both were towering and muscular, at least six-foot-eight. The one on the left, likely the warrior twin, had long curly hair tied loosely, with tendrils falling past his chin. A scar adorned his cheek, and his stern expression made Anastasia instinctively want to submit. He wore thick, layered hunter’s clothing, though part of his solid chest was exposed.

The other, the leader, had shorter hair at cheekbone length. His lighter attire did nothing to hide his immense strength, which radiated from his stance and scent alone.

Though they shared the same features, their auras were distinctly different—fascinating yet unnerving. The leader’s gentler expression gave her a small measure of comfort. She felt an invisible pull toward them, urging her closer, her wolf instinctively urging submission.

She fought to control herself. Her omega urged her forward, but she didn’t understand what was happening. Why wasn’t her omega speaking clearly? She felt lightheaded.

Their scent, their gaze—it was overwhelming. Their eyes were fixed on her, unwavering. The warrior’s expression darkened, making her wolf bristle in protest.

They didn’t speak, clearly waiting for her to act. She felt unprepared, but standing there was like teetering at the edge of a cliff. Dangerous, though only her heart seemed at risk. She had never encountered wolves this size.

Her omega calmed her: Show your hair. They can be trusted.

Following the guidance, Anastasia carefully removed the scarf covering her head. Her silver hair tumbled messily around her face. She couldn’t bear to look at them, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground as she attempted to make herself look presentable.

A gasp broke the silence. She glanced up; their astonishment was evident. Her hair was unlike anything seen before, impossible to replicate with dye.

She remembered her childhood—her hair had been kept short and disguised with herbal coloring to hide her identity. She had always known she stood out, was unforgettable. That made her easily recognizable, which was dangerous for a runaway like her.

Silence thickened, both sides uncertain how to proceed.

“Shift,” the leader said, his voice calm, though his expression betrayed his effort to remain composed.

Embarrassed, Anastasia glanced down. She had nearly forgotten to shift.

“Please… could you turn around?” she asked softly. The leader furrowed his brows and complied; the warrior followed.

Anastasia quickly removed her clothes, fearful they might see her bare skin. She shifted with a groan, the transformation painful but necessary.

The alphas growled possessively, senses alert to her change.

What they saw left them stunned: a pure white wolf, rare and breathtaking.

And it was standing before them, marking her as their mate. The pull between them was undeniable. Anastasia felt it too.

She realized, with a mix of shock and wonder—she had two mates.