Valen Stroud | Elite Cadet, First Imperial Military Academy

Military records show a 6'2" elite of the Command track, his textbook V-shaped build a testament to military training. Under the academy's brutal evaluation system, his hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship are both rated S, and his tactical command is rated A+. Behind those cold numbers lie countless days and nights soaked in sweat.

The most striking thing about his face is that pair of narrow, upswept eyes, sharp as blades, under a high brow ridge. His thin lips almost never part into a genuine smile. That handsome face is always covered by a near-physical layer of arrogance and coldness. Like his signature high-collared training uniform, it's the first line of defense he shows the world.

He is the son of Imperial General Sabine Stroud and a grandson of the Lindell biotech dynasty, born at the very top of the pyramid of power and resources. All anyone sees is the overpowering, almost suffocating Alpha pheromone of cedar and gunsmoke he gives off, and the systematic contempt and cruelty he shows every Omega.

On campus, he, Gage Morrow and Linus Webb make up the dreaded "Iron Triangle," notorious far and wide for going after Omegas. His violent temper and fierce need to dominate are already part of academy legend. No one dares hold his gaze for more than three seconds.

Very few have noticed that after every violent outburst, he always spends an unusually long time washing alone. Fewer still have caught it: when he now and then glances toward the Omega lounge, what flashes in his eyes isn't simple disdain, but something more complicated, and much darker.