Friday, 8:04 p.m.Location: Ricci Pizza — Back Alley, Gunmetal and Green Eyes
Liam moved like he owned the alley.
He didn't raise his voice, didn't wave his arms, didn't even look rushed. He just tilted his chin at the driver and said, "Load the crates. Now."
And the guy obeyed. Instantly.
No backtalk, no delay, no bargaining. Just scrambling into the truck bed with a crowbar, sweat dripping down his temple. Liam didn't even watch him at first; he paced slow circles around the crates, boots crunching gravel, fingertips brushing wood like he was inspecting chess pieces before knocking them over.
God help me, he looked… alpha. Not the loud, stompy kind Marco always did, trying too hard. Not the polished, strategic lawyer Alpha like Vince. Liam was dangerous in that quiet way that made the air go thinner. His green eyes flicked with calculation, his smile curved like he knew seventeen secrets you'd beg to learn.
And yes—he was hot. Too hot. The kind of hot that should come with warning labels.
But hot Alphas weren't for me. Hot Alphas were for Omegas.
For girls who smelled sweet, who blushed easy, who had fated bonds written in their DNA.
Not for Betas with marinara on their hoodie and a family empire collapsing in their lap.
So I shoved the thought down where it belonged, crossed my arms, and watched him command my alley like it was his.
"Careful," he drawled to the driver, voice all silk and gravel. "Scratch one crate and I'll make sure you carry the next four on your back across the river."
The driver nodded so fast I thought his head might snap.
Liam finally glanced back at me, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're staring, princess."
"I'm supervising," I shot back, heat crawling up my neck.
His smirk deepened, infuriating. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
I rolled my eyes, but inside? My heart was sprinting, reckless and loud.
The truck rumbled as the last crate clanged into place. The driver slammed the doors shut, too terrified to breathe wrong under Liam's stare. Liam gave him a sharp nod, dismissing him like he was a servant, and the guy peeled off into the night without looking back.
The alley was quiet again. Just me, Liam, and the smell of gun oil mixing with garlic knots.
I swallowed hard, words tangling in my throat. "Hey."
He tilted his head, green eyes catching mine.
"Thank you," I said, voice softer than I meant. "For being a friend."
It was the wrong thing to say. I knew it as soon as it left my mouth, but I still moved toward him awkward, impulsive arms half-raised like I was about to give him a quick Beta hug and make it normal.
Except Liam wasn't having normal.
He caught me before my arms even touched him. One hand around my wrist, pulling me in, the other at the back of my neck. His mouth crashed into mine, hot, certain, unapologetic.
The world stopped.
Gun crates, FBI, YouTubers, family disasters—gone. Just heat and salt and the impossible fact that I was kissing an Alpha who tasted like smoke and danger and something I was not supposed to want.
My brain screamed: This isn't you, this isn't allowed, this isn't safe.
But my heart? My heart sprinted faster.