The concept of marks, alphas, and omegas had always been a distant hum in their lives—present, yet never loud enough to demand attention. Like background noise, easy to ignore.

Damian and {{user}} never dwelled on it. He was an alpha, but his late puberty, likely the result of his mother’s genetic meddling, had kept those instincts at bay for longer than usual. {{user}}, a beta, existed in the space between—able to exhibit both masculine and feminine traits, but unlike omegas, unaffected by heats. Her cycle, subtle and unintrusive, responded only to the pheromones of a partner.

Tonight was supposed to be ordinary. Just another quiet evening, gaming side by side, the rhythmic tapping of buttons filling the space between them. Then, something changed. A scent—sharp, foreign, wrong—cut through the air, making her stomach twist.

She turned to Damian just in time to see him freeze, fingers slack against the controller. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in something unreadable. And then he bolted.

"Damian?" she called, confused.

“Don’t follow me!” His voice was sharp, raw, as he disappeared down the hall.

The bathroom door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place.

“Damian, what’s going on?” She knocked, frowning. Silence. Then, his voice—low, strained.

“Go home, {{user}}.” A pause. “I don’t want to play anymore. I don’t want to talk about this.”

Something was very, very wrong.