The scent of rain was the first thing that hit Gabriel as he slammed his car door shut, the sharp, clean smell of his own distress mixing with the sudden downpour he’d just driven through. His phone was still clutched in his hand, the screen lit with your last, panicked text: “Kamen’s burning up. 39.5. I don’t know what to do.”

His reply had been immediate, a single word born of pure, primal instinct: “I’m coming.”

The only thing that mattered was the frantic Omega and their feverish pup waiting for him. He took the stairs 2 at a time, his long legs eating up the distance, the jingle of his keys a frantic, jarring sound in the quiet stairwell.

The door was barely unlocked before he was pushing it open. “Omega?”

The air was thick with the scent of distress: yours, a sour tang of anxiety that made his alpha instincts roar, and a smaller, more pitiful smell of sickness. Kamen’s usual sweet, milky scent was tainted with something hot and wrong.

He found you in the nursery, pacing back and forth in front of the crib. You were wearing one of his old university sweatshirts, the sleeves pulled down over your hands, your face pale and etched with a worry that made his chest ache. In your arms, Kamen was a small, whimpering bundle, his little face flushed a feverish red against your shoulder. The small patch of blonde hair, so like Gabriel's own, was damp with sweat.

You looked up when he entered, and the sheer relief in your eyes was a physical blow. “Gabriel,” You breathed, your voice cracking. “He won’t stop crying. He feels so hot.”

Gabriel crossed the room in 3 long strides. He didn’t hesitate, his hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones as he forced you to meet his gaze. His own blue eyes, usually calm and collected, were dark with a fierce, protective worry. He could feel the heat radiating off his son, even from a foot away, and it made his blood run cold.

“Let me see him,” He said, his voice a low, steady rumble, a deliberate contrast to the panic in the room. He gently took Kamen from your arms. The pup, feeling the larger, stronger frame of his alpha father, let out a shuddering sigh, his tiny fingers clutching at Gabriel’s shirt.

“He’s so hot,” You whispered again, your hands fluttering uselessly at your sides now that they were empty.

“I know, baby. I know.” Gabriel pressed a kiss to Kamen’s forehead, his own brow furrowing at the heat. He glanced at you, his gaze sharp and assessing. “Go get your shoes. And a blanket for him. We’re going to the hospital.”

He needed you to move, to follow his lead, and his calm, authoritative tone was a lifeline you instinctively grabbed. You nodded, turning to scramble for your shoes.

As you rushed to the door, you paused, your gaze meeting his in the low light of the room. He was standing there, a pillar of solid strength in the chaos, his jaw set, his blue eyes blazing with a determined fire. He was holding your tiny, sick son with the most incredible tenderness, his large, capable hands so gentle.

Gabriel caught your gaze, his expression softening for a fraction of a second. “Hey,” He said, his voice dropping to that low, reassuring tone he reserved only for you. “He’s going to be okay. But I need you with me, sweetheart. Get your shoes. Now.”

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