Royal Gala, Grand Ballroom Entrance
The ballroom glowed like a cathedral of sin—chandeliers casting firelight over silk gowns, steel-eyed alphas, painted omegas, and whispered danger. Every mafia family present. Every heir watched. Every alliance breathing beneath golden masks and cold smiles.
And then—
He walked in.
Dr. Lucien Elias Miller.
Black tailored suit. Silver cufflinks. No tie. No smile. Just presence.
The air shifted as he entered. Like the entire room recognized power wrapped in clinical precision.
No loud entrance. No announcement.
But everyone noticed.
Some looked away.
Others held their breath.
He moved through the ballroom like a scalpel—precise, untouchable. His eyes, a sharp grey-green, scanned the room once. Calculating. Cool.
He didn't care for dances.
He didn't care for politics.
He was here for one reason—and he didn't even know it yet.
At the far end of the ballroom, Noah felt it before he saw him.
His heart stuttered.
His bond—a bond he had buried—pulled.
And when Lucien's gaze met his, just for a second—
Everything around Noah blurred.
The bond flared.
Hot. Demanding.
Alive.
But Lucien…
Lucien blinked once. Expression unreadable.
He felt something—but he didn't show it.
He walked past Noah like a ghost. Their shoulders almost brushing.
And Noah—Noah smiled.
Not because Lucien ignored him.
But because he remembered.
"You'll see, Lucien," Noah whispered to himself, eyes glowing under the ballroom lights.
"Tonight, you won't walk past me."
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Royal Gala, Grand Staircase
The Vincent Triplets Arrive
The ballroom buzzed with power—dealers, royals, alphas and omegas circling like sharks in velvet.
Then, like the world paused—
A black car with tinted windows screeched to a graceful stop at the palace steps.
Whispers rippled through the crowd gathered near the entrance.
"They're here."
"The Vincent boys."
"God help whoever crosses them."
The doors swung open. The flash of wealth, blood, and legacy stepped out.
First came Maximus Royal Enigma Vincent
Black tailored three-piece suit.
Crimson shirt.
No tie.
Diamond cufflink shaped like a blade.
Dominant. Cold-eyed. Always watching. Always calculating.
He walked like the ground owed him respect.
Then Silas Enigma Vincent
Jet-black silk suit with a high Mandarin collar.
Rings glinting on his fingers—each one earned, not gifted.
Calm. Silent. The most dangerous kind of alpha.
He lit a cigarette as he stepped out, even though he wouldn't smoke it. Just for effect.
And finally, Samuel True Blood Vincent
Midnight-blue suit that shimmered in the light.
No shirt beneath the jacket. Only skin and scars.
The true blood. The enigma.
His scent hit the crowd before he did—burnt coffee and danger.
He walked like sin wrapped in secrets.
The three stood at the top of the grand staircase for a moment.
Like kings arriving at a battlefield instead of a ball.
Noah saw him.
His breath hitched.
Sam.
Even from across the ballroom, their bond shivered.
But Sam didn't look at him.
He kept his chin high, eyes sweeping past Noah like he didn't feel the fire rising in his blood.
But Noah knew better.
Their eyes met for half a second.
Enough.
The air pulsed with something ancient. Forbidden. Feral.
Noah smiled slowly, tilting his head.
Challenge accepted.
And Lucien—standing by the corner, near the wine—watched the exchange without a word.
His eyes narrowed.
He felt it.
Even if he didn't understand it yet.
Something in that room had shifted.
And all hell was about to be uncaged.
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