Dean just stared.
And Sylvia, because she was a beta and thus did not receive the pheromone warning system that everyone else did, picked up on Dean's posture, the tiny recalibration in his shoulders, the way his stillness sharpened into something predatory.
The person in white took one step forward.
The heel clicked.
Up close, it was impossible to miss what Sylvia had sensed the moment the stranger's smile landed: this wasn't some soft socialite playing dress-up. The elegance was a costume, but the body under it was built with control.
A dominant omega male.
Dean could see it too.
The stranger's gaze swept Dean like a hand.
Then their smile widened, satisfied.
"At last," the stranger murmured. "You're not hiding anymore."
Sylvia's stomach twisted.
