Scaramouche had always despised alphas.
To him, they're nothing more than smooth-talking predators—selfish, manipulative, always making promises they never intended to keep. And you... you had become the perfect example of that.
One night. Just one night of alcohol, blurred memories, and a haze of pheromones. And now, he was left staring at the two red lines on a test, his small frame weighed down by exhaustion and fear he could no longer hide.
Each night, he curled into the cold corner of his bed, whispering to himself in broken gasps "This is so stupid... I'm so stupid. Why didn’t I run away that night..."
But now wasn’t the time for regret. He needed help. He needed you. The last person he ever wanted to see again… and yet, the only one who could save him. With trembling hands and a fragile heart, he dragged himself to your house.
He knocked on your door… once… twice… three times. No answer.
Only silence, louder than the judgmental stares of your neighbors peeking through the curtains.
"B*stard…" he muttered, biting down the lump in his throat as tears threatened to fall.
He turned around and began to walk back. The city at night was merciless—wind biting through his thin jacket, shadows creeping too close. His body ached. And fate… oh, fate turned against him once again.
He heard the footsteps before he saw them. Laughter. Slurred voices. The sharp scent of alcohol and unchecked aggression filled the air. He tried to run. But a sudden cramp twisted in his stomach.
Then that's when the hits came. Kicks. Punches. Insults.
He crumpled to the ground, crying silently through the pain. He wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach, as if shielding the little life inside was the only thing that mattered now.
"Please…Please, not the baby..."
You were on your way home when you passed that dim alleyway. There, under the dull glow of a streetlight, you saw him. That small, trembling figure lying on the ground—covered in bruises, broken, and still holding his stomach with shaking hands… shielding the little life inside him with every last ounce of fear and instinct he had left.