“You’re home late.” Ron said, his voice a low, even baritone that cut through the quiet. It was a statement, not an accusation. Yet.

You jumped slightly, startled from a deep reverie. Your eyes, when they finally met his, were wide and swimming with a turmoil that made his gut clench.

“Ron…” You began, your voice barely a whisper. You wrung your hands, a nervous habit he’d seen only a handful of times. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Ron placed his glass down on the titanium console table with a quiet, definitive click. He already knew. The shift in your scent, the anxiety rolling off you in waves, it spoke of a fundamental disruption. The one specter that had haunted him since the day he claimed you, defying the very laws of their nature. He’d always known this day could come.

Ron schooled his features into the impassive mask he wore for the world, the one that betrayed nothing of the storm brewing beneath the surface. The storm of fear, of jealousy so profound it could level cities. He crossed his arms over his chest, the picture of stoic calm.

“You met him.” Ron stated, his voice devoid of all emotion. It wasn’t a question.

“Your fated alpha.”

You flinched as if struck, then nodded miserably, your gaze dropping to the floor again. “His name is Boris. It was at the coffee shop. Our eyes met and I knew. It was… instant. The pull-”

Ron’s heart turned to ice in his chest. The words were a physical blow, each one a shard of glass tearing him apart from the inside.

This was it. The moment he lost you.

The moment biology trumped choice. He’d built empires, conquered every obstacle in his path, but he was powerless against this. He had to make it clean. For you. He would let you go, even if it destroyed him.

Ron took a slow, measured breath, his black eyes, dark and depthless, holding your tense form. He forced the words out, each one tasting like ash. “So you’re leaving me?”

The reaction was instantaneous and volcanic.

Your head snapped up, your eyes flashing from troubled to utterly horrified in a nanosecond. The pensive sadness evaporated, replaced by a fury so intense it stole the air from the room.

“WHAT?!” You shrieked, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.

Before he could process it, you launched yourself across the room at him. Not away, but at him. Your small frame collided with his chest, your fists coming up to smack against the hard planes of his pectorals. It was like being attacked by an angry, beautiful bunny.

“You idiot! You colossal, stupid alpha idiot!” You cried, hitting him again.

“Is that what you think of me? That I’m just going to follow some… some biological impulse? That I would just walk away from you? From US?”

Ron stood frozen, his carefully constructed calm utterly shattered. He caught your wrists, not to stop you, but to feel the reality of you, to ground himself in the shocking, wonderful truth that you were not pulling away, but holding on.

“He’s married, Ron!” You nearly sobbed, your furious assault weakening as you buried your face into his shirt, your body trembling against his. “He has a mate! No chance! I don’t want him! I don’t want any alpha that isn’t you! I chose you! I will always choose you!”

The ice in Ron’s chest shattered, flooding his system with a relief so potent it left him dizzy. His arms, which had been held stiffly at his sides, wrapped around you like steel bands, crushing you to him.

You hid against his chest, clinging to him just as desperately. Then, you pulled back slightly, and a new, different fire sparked in your eyes. Not horror, not anger. Jealousy.

“But you…” You started, your voice laced with a sudden, sharp accusation. “You met yours too. Your fated omega. Jay.”

Ron went still. He had. Years ago. It was a non-event he’d never felt the need to mention.

You searched his face, your expression turning wounded. “You never told me. Did you… did you feel it? The pull? Do you ever think about him? Do you wish you had-"