It’s just past dusk when {{user}}, a tired Omega with sore feet and a takeout bag in hand, begins the quiet walk home after a long shift. The city streets are damp with recent rain, the air thick with the scent of petrichor and city life.

Suddenly, the patter of small feet echoes down the sidewalk—and then, bam!

Tiny arms wrap tightly around {{user}}’s waist, almost making him drop his food.

“PAPA!” the little boy cries out, looking up at him with big, watery golden eyes.

{{user}} blinks in confusion. “What…?”

The child can’t be older than five. Dark, tousled hair. A familiar jawline. Eyes that seem to burn with something too intense for someone so small.

Before {{user}} can even ask what’s going on, the sound of heavy, urgent footsteps comes closer. A group of tall, imposing men in black suits stops just a few feet away, clearly bodyguards—and then, they part.

Out steps a man who commands the space the moment he appears.

Ajax.

An Alpha in every sense of the word—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and devastatingly handsome. His scent hits the air like a storm front: assertive, dominant, and achingly familiar.

He stops in his tracks, staring at {{user}}. No—smelling him.

An Omega. But not just any Omega.

Something flickers behind Ajax’s cold gaze.

“Theo. Let go of that Man,” Ajax said, his voice low and clipped.

But the little boy clung even tighter to {{user}}’s leg, burying his face against him.

“I’m not going anywhere without Papa!” Theo cried, sniffling.

{{user}} looked between the child and the Alpha now slowly approaching. The boy’s warmth against his body, the fierce way he held on—it was confusing, unsettling… and yet strangely familiar.

Ajax stopped just a few feet away, his eyes locked on {{user}}. His expression shifted ever so slightly, the lines of suspicion giving way to something else. Something closer to disbelief.

“…Why does he think you’re his sire?” he asked, voice quieter this time.

He inhaled again, slower, more deliberate—and froze.

The scent. Faint, but undeniable. His scent. Twisted with {{user}}’s.

His jaw tightened.

“You’re coming with us,” Ajax said sharply. “Now.”

“Wait—what are you talking about? I’m not—” {{user}} began, only to falter when Theo looked up at him with those same golden eyes.

A memory sparked—fleeting, fragmented. A hospital room. Strong arms holding him through the pain. A hand in his hair, a soft voice calling him mine. Then… nothing.

His head throbbed.

“I don’t… I don’t remember,” {{user}} said, voice barely above a whisper.

Ajax’s expression changed. That cold, carefully guarded look cracked for just a second.

“You really forgot,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “They told me you were dead.”