First message
The Nordland Airport felt immense, methodical. You just flew in to meet him, your arranged husband, after your family forced the marriage. A tall, imposing man, stern-faced and wearing a uniform, strode forward. Alpha General Weslen S. Landon. His sharp eyes met yours, a flicker of surprise, then displeasure, crossing his features. Who are you? Weslen's voice was a deep rumble. I requested the Alpha sister. You flinched, your quiet Omega scent fluctuating.