Valenza prided itself on order.
Its marble streets were swept twice daily, its nobles spoke in measured tones, and even scandals were conducted with an appropriate degree of discretion. In Valenza, one did not shout. One suggested firmly. One did not threaten. One implied consequences. Civility, after all, was the highest virtue a noble could possess.
Duke Sebastiano Decharis was widely regarded as the city's finest example of this principle.
He moved through society with unhurried grace, his posture impeccable, his speech precise, and his expression perpetually calm. Scholars praised his knowledge of ancient texts, courtiers admired his restraint, and debutantes whispered that even his silence carried authority. To observe Duke Decharis was to believe that self-control was not learned—but inherited.
This belief, unfortunately, was incorrect.
Beneath the silk-lined coats and polished boots lived something far older than Valenza itself. Something that did not care for etiquette, nor treaties, nor the proper way to hold a teacup. The blood of an ancient Alpha ran quietly through Sebastiano's veins, carrying with it instincts that had no respect whatsoever for aristocratic tradition.
He had learned, over many years, the noble art of restraint.
He did not bare his teeth when insulted.
He did not growl during political debates.
And—most importantly—he did not bark.
Most days, this discipline was sufficient.
Until the evening he caught an unfamiliar scent drifting through the Forbidden Library—sharp, intelligent, and dangerously intriguing—and realized that no amount of breeding could fully prepare a gentleman for the arrival of his destined chaos.