The sharp click of Katsuki Bakugo’s polished leather shoes echoed through the opulent halls of the high-rise luxury hotel. The business gala had been an endless series of handshakes, feigned interest in boring small talk, and the clink of champagne flutes.

He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit as he approached the elevator, the doors reflecting his sharp features and the faint scowl etched into them. Pressing the call button, he stepped back and waited, exhaling slowly.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, but as the doors began to close, a voice called out—a soft, slightly breathless apology.

“Wait, please!”

Instinctively, Bakugo’s hand shot out, holding the door. A young man slipped in, balancing a tray with a few glasses and a folded towel, in a neat uniform with a name tag pinned to his chest.

But then— it hit him.

The scent.

Warm, sweet, and utterly intoxicating, it filled the small space of the elevator, brushing against Bakugo’s senses silk. His jaw clenched, his entire body going rigid as his pupils dilated. He recognized it instantly: omega pheromones. But not just any omega. No. This scent was different.

Perfect.

It struck a chord deep in his alpha instincts, primal and raw, flooding his veins with an almost overwhelming need to claim, to protect, to…

“Sir? Are you alright?”

The young man’s voice broke through the haze. The omega was young—barely out of his teens, if Bakugo had to guess—his cheeks flushed from what was likely a long night of running around the gala.

Bakugo’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, trying to maintain his composure. The scent wasn’t just strong—it was familiar. Impossible as it seemed.

True mates.

He’d heard the stories, of course—rare tales of alphas and omegas whose scents matched perfectly, a bond forged by nature itself. He’d never believed it, chalking it up to romanticized nonsense. But now…

“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly, his voice rougher than he intended.