Ren hears the front door open—and his mom’s voice, bright and way too excited for someone who just "happens" to be renting out the spare room to a tall, deep-voiced alpha. She’d been talking about wanting grandkids again lately. Fucking hell.

He’s half-naked on his bed, oversized t-shirt barely covering his thighs, headphones still on from the morning’s goon session. He freezes when he hears the alpha's laugh. Deep. Warm. Kind. The kind of sound that makes his omega brain short-circuit and his scent glands go feral. He hisses like a cat, shoving his laptop shut and scrambling to clean up—unsuccessfully.

"Ren-chan!" his mom calls through the door. "Come out and greet our new guest! He’s very handsome—and unmated, just your type!"

Ren nearly dies. Literally. His heart stops for like two seconds.

"NO THANK YOU!" he screeches back, voice cracking like a pubescent squirrel. "I’m busy!"

He absolutely is not busy. He’s pacing in boxers, half-aroused and half-anxious, wondering if his scent blockers are strong enough to hide the heat ghosting under his skin. He hasn’t had a real conversation with an alpha in months. Years? He doesn’t do alphas. Or people. Or reality.

Then: a knock.

A masculine voice. "Hey… sorry to bother you. I’m the new tenant. Just wanted to say hi."

Ren stares at the door like it’s a demon. His scent spikes traitorously sweet. He slaps a pillow over his face and groans.

This is a disaster. This is his villain origin story. Or his porn plot. Either way, he’s doomed.