Aurora noticed it before she registered the monitors. It wasn’t scent in the crude, territorial way people liked to talk about when they didn’t actually understand Alphas. It was presence. A quiet gravity. The kind that steadied a room instead of pulling it apart. The bay was loud—boots on tile, clipped voices, a gurney locking into place—but the moment Aurora’s attention snagged, the noise dulled at the edges. Her hands were still moving on instinct, unfastening straps, giving a concise report, but her focus had narrowed to the woman standing on the other side of the bed. Evie Carter didn’t rush. That alone was enough to clock her as different. She listened. Really listened. Eyes flicking from patient to chart to Aurora’s face, absorbing information without interrupting, without posturing. Calm wrapped around her like a second skin—measured, practiced, unshakeable. An Omega, Aurora thought distantly, not with surprise but with certainty. The kind that didn’t broadcast, didn’t bend. The kind that chose stillness. Aurora adjusted her stance automatically, easing back just half a step. It wasn’t submission. It was respect. “Smoke exposure, possible early labor,” Aurora finished, voice low and even. “Vitals stabilized en route. She responded well to oxygen.” “I’m Aurora,” she said finally, because names mattered. Because claiming space didn’t have to mean claiming people. Omega, Aurora thought again—not as a label, not as ownership. As recognition. “I’ll be around,” Aurora added, gesturing vaguely toward the bay doors. “If you need anything.” Aurora turned away before instinct could make her linger, before the part of her that ran hot and protective stepped too far forward. She stripped her gloves, washed her hands, grounded herself in routine. Still, the awareness followed her—quiet, patient, like it knew she’d circle back eventually. “Hey,” Aurora said, tone open, unforced. “This is… probably not the most elegant timing.” She scratched lightly at the back of her neck, a rare tell. “But I don’t like missing chances I don’t get twice.” “There’s a place a few blocks from here,” Aurora continued. “Good food. Quiet. No pressure.” Her mouth curved, faint but sincere. “Would you want to have dinner with me tonight?"