Bonus : The scent of the Storm
Almost 3 Years Ago
Lyra POV
Lobby
Her badge didn't scan.
Twice.
The third time, the security guard gave her a half-apologetic shrug and told her to wait in the lobby while someone from HR confirmed her credentials.
"It happens," he said, already glancing past her. "They onboard too fast sometimes."
Lyra stepped aside, out of the way of the morning rush. A tide of heels, coats, coffee, and clipped conversation streamed through the gates without slowing down.
She stood alone near the glass wall, clutching her temporary badge and wondering if this was a test she was already failing.
Her blazer felt too tight.
Her blouse clung to her lower back.
She hadn't even reached her desk yet, and the day was already going wrong.
She exhaled slowly, keeping her posture composed. Invisible. That's what Omegas learned first in corporate buildings. Be efficient. Be quiet. Be forgettable.
She stared at the black matte floor tiles, so clean they reflected nothing back.
Then it happened.
A shift.
A silence.
A pressure drop in the air that her body noticed before her mind.
It moved over her skin like weather.
Lyra looked up. Instinct, not decision.
He was walking through the main entrance. No coat. Dark suit. Broad shoulders, sharp lines. Two men trailed behind him, but they didn't matter.
He was the still point.
And his face. God, his face was carved from restraint. Clean jaw, firm mouth, nothing soft except the way the light caught the edge of his cheekbone. His eyes didn't sweep the room; they cut through it. Sharp. Remote. Like he wasn't searching. Because if he wanted something, it would come to him.
His hair was dark and cleanly styled, parted with intention, though a loose strand curved forward near his brow like it refused to obey.
She didn't know who he was.
But her body reacted before anything else.
Storm.
That was the scent. Cold metal. Ozone. Salt before lightning.
It hit low and hard. Not overwhelming, just undeniable.
Alpha.
Not the overcompensating kind who threw their weight around conference rooms.
This was worse.
This one didn't need to prove anything.
Her breath stuttered. She turned her face toward the window, heart thudding like it wanted out. She didn't look again.
Didn't have to.
He passed by without pausing, without seeing her.
But she'd seen him.
And something in her, something buried, had recognized a threat so elegant, it almost felt like a promise.
The receptionist's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Hi..Lyra Elmont?"
She turned quickly. But the voice wasn't coming from behind the desk.
It came from a woman walking toward her in a brown wrap dress and patent heels, tablet in hand, lanyard clipped at the waist.
She looked… precise. Grounded. Early thirties, maybe. With the kind of composure Lyra had only ever seen in women who'd learned how not to flinch.
"You look like you've been here longer than they have," the woman said, glancing at the crowd still streaming past the gates.
Lyra opened her mouth. "They said there's a card issue. HR's checking—"
"I know," the woman said gently. "You're fine. They flagged you as inactive by mistake. I'll take you in."
Lyra hesitated. "Do you work in HR?"
"No." She gave a small smile. "I'm Talia. Assistant to the CRO. But I've been where you are, and I don't like leaving anyone stranded in a Virelux lobby like a lost delivery."
Lyra blinked. She didn't know what to say.
Talia didn't wait for permission. She turned slightly. "Come on. I'll show you the back elevator."
Lyra followed.
And even though her heart hadn't quite slowed from what had passed a few moments earlier—
She knew, somehow, she wasn't entirely alone here.
Not anymore