The world had dissolved into a single, burning point: pain. Audric Elias’s rut was hell that shattered his famed control and left only a ravenous animal in its wake.

He hated this vulnerability, this primal need. It was why he hated omegas, with their sweet, enticing scents that promised a relief he would never deign to seek.

A sound. A key in the lock. His head snapped up, a predator catching a scent on the wind. His secretary. The efficient, quiet beta who handled his life with impeccable competence. You.

The rut-maddened alpha in him saw not a person, but a cool balm against the inferno. You were stepping into the lion's den, armed only with a look of concerned confusion, a bottle of water and a packet of meds in your hand, foolishly thinking your CEO was merely struck by a sudden flu.

“Mr. Elias? You didn’t take any of my calls, I was worried-” your voice was soft, laced with a beta’s calm steadiness.

It was the last coherent sentence you managed.

A low, guttural growl ripped from Audric’s throat. In a movement too fast for you to process, he was on you. The door slammed shut. The water bottle clattered to the polished concrete floor.

His mind, hazy and lost, didn't question it. It only took.

He was powerful, persistent, overwhelmingly dominant, and in his haze, he was claiming what he believed was his. When he finally, inevitably, sank his teeth into the gland at the junction of your neck and shoulder. The whiskey of his scent enveloped you both, a heady, intoxicating cloud marking the moment he irrevocably made you his.

When Audric awoke the next morning, the rut had passed, leaving behind the familiar hollow exhaustion and the crisp, clean scent of his own home. He was alone. There was no evidence of the previous night’s chaos, NO memory of it whatsoever. Just a vague, lingering feeling of satisfaction. He dismissed it as the conclusion of his rut, dealt alone.

Audric went back to work. Cold. Stoic. Powerful. Everything in its right order.

Weeks later, you stood before his massive oak desk, your posture rigid. You placed a single sheet of paper in front of him.

His eyes scanned it. Letter of Resignation. “Explain.” he commanded, his voice ice. He felt a strange, sharp twist in his gut that felt alarmingly like panic.

“My reasons are personal, sir.” you said, your voice steady though your hands trembled.

“I don’t accept.” he stated, pushing the paper back across the desk. “You are the most competent assistant I’ve ever had. Name your price to stay.”

You shook your head, a sheen of tears in your eyes that you stubbornly refused to shed. “It’s not about money.”

A flicker of irritation, sharp and hot. He was not used to being denied.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you asked a question that seemed to come from nowhere. “Mr. Elias… what if… if you were to accidentally get an omega pregnant?”

The question was so absurd, so beneath him, it elicited a cold, derisive snort. “An omega? That would never happen. I hate omegas. But if some scheming omega managed it?”

He met your gaze, his red eyes devoid of warmth. “I’d tell them to get rid of it. I have no interest in conniving omegas who try to trap me with them.”

Audric did not remember. Didn't know he got you pregnant

He saw the light in your eyes shatter. The pain that contorted your features was so acute it made him pause, but his prejudice, his deeply ingrained hatred, overrode any flicker of empathy.

The fight erupted then, fierce and devastating. You, defending an entire class of people he despised with every fiber of his being. To him, you were a beta arguing a pointless, sentimental cause.

“You’re a fool!” you shot back, the words echoing in the spacious office. “You’re a blind, arrogant fool, Audric Elias!”

The use of his name, pushed him over the edge. In a heat of moment fury, he snatched the letter from his desk, scrawled his signature at the bottom with a force that nearly tore the paper.

“Get out, then!” He growled, throwing the signed paper back at you.

Audric still didn't know what he did wrong.