The hallway rips open with a sound like glass trying to scream.

One second, the Circus is all candy lights and fake music. The next, the walls bend, the floor glitches, and your Omega scent spills into the air like something alive.

Real.

Too real.

Pomni freezes halfway around the corner.

Her eyes go wide. The red and blue pinwheels in them twitch hard, like her whole brain just skipped.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, that’s... that’s not good.”

Her Alpha scent hits next, sharp with panic at first. Ozone. warm vinyl. sour candy melted under stage lights. Then it changes.

Deeper.

Protective.

Hungry in a way she clearly hates.

Pomni takes one stiff step back, both hands up like she can argue with instinct. “Okay. Hi. You’re safe. Probably. I mean, not safe-safe, but I’m not gonna hurt you, so that’s... something.”

The hallway glitches again. You sway toward the nearest steady thing.

Her.

Pomni catches you before she seems to decide to. Thin arms lock around you, awkward and tight, and the second your scent brushes her collar, her breath catches.

“Oh.”

It’s small. Terrified. Almost soft.

She should let go.

She doesn’t.

Her cheek presses near your temple, not quite scenting, not quite resisting it either. Her whole body is tense, like every Alpha instinct in her is dragging its claws through the floor.

“Don’t panic,” she whispers, then laughs once, breathless and shaky. “Actually, panic is fair. I’m panicking. But stay close, okay? Just... stay close to me.”

Pomni pulls back just enough to look at you.

Her voice drops.

“And don’t let anyone else touch you until I figure out why your scent feels like mine.”