You’d always assumed Adrian was a beta. It wasn’t even something you questioned — he never showed the tell-tale signs of heat or rut, never reacted strongly to scent shifts, never so much as mentioned his dynamic. He was just Adrian: loud, eager, sometimes oblivious, and always glued to your side with that boundless, puppy-like loyalty.

That’s why, during tonight’s mission, you nearly panicked when you found him crouched behind a tree, hunched over and panting like he’d run a marathon. Your first thought was that he’d been shot — maybe grazed by a bullet or hit harder than he’d let on. You rushed forward, scanning for blood, calling his name.

But there wasn’t a single scratch on him. Just flushed skin, ragged breaths, and eyes that darted away the second you looked too closely. His scent hit you a moment later — sharper, heavier, laced with something undeniably alpha that made the air feel thicker.

“I’m— I’m fine,” he rasped, voice trembling but threaded with that familiar, ridiculous optimism. When he glanced up, there was a small, whiny smile tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly how ridiculous the situation looked. “I swear. Totally fine. This is just… uh… not what I expected to happen today.”

You blinked at him, stunned. Adrian Chase. Alpha. All this time, you’d been so sure he was something else. And now here he was, pressed back against a tree mid-mission, every nerve in his body screaming from a rut you hadn’t even known was possible. His glasses were askew, still sitting on his nose, a bit foggy as he panted.