The room was thick with Adriel's scent, oppressive and commanding, saturating the sterile hospital air until even the monitors seemed to pulse in rhythm with his pheromonal surge. Eren lay calmer now, his lashes damp with tears, his body slackening against the sheets as the storm inside him quieted.
But the door swung open with a sharp click. The attending doctor stepped inside with Roen close behind him, both immediately halting as the weight of Adriel's Alpha pheromones slammed into them.
Roen stiffened, his hands curling into fists. Even he, an experienced Beta, could feel the primal authority crushing down on him. The doctor, however, forced himself to remain steady, though his brow furrowed deeply.
"Mr. Ulrick," the doctor said firmly, though his voice carried the strain of someone fighting against instinct. "You need to stop. Right now."
Adriel turned, his eyes flashing with barely contained fury. "He was in pain. My pheromones calmed him. Look at him."
"I can see that," the doctor replied sharply, pulling on a mask to filter the intensity. "But you don't understand—an unbonded Omega's system can only tolerate so much raw Alpha pheromone before it begins to destabilize. Right now, his body is latching onto your presence out of desperation, but without a true bond to anchor it, the effect may rebound violently. It could make his condition worse."
Roen glanced at Eren, his throat tight. "President… even I can barely breathe in here. The staff outside are panicking. If you keep this up, it won't help him."
Adriel looked down at Eren. His Omega. But not his, not truly. The contract still echoed in his mind—this arrangement was supposed to be temporary, for the sake of the child. A duty, nothing more. They had agreed: no bond, no strings, just protection until the birth.
And yet…
Ninety-three percent compatibility. That was what the test had said, when he'd ordered it in secret. Higher than he had ever thought possible. Close enough to fated. Close enough to tempt him. But what if it wasn't real? What if Eren wasn't meant for him? What if this fragile Omega, already so distrustful of Alphas, looked at him with hatred if he forced the bond?
"Mr. Ulrick," the doctor pressed, his voice steady but edged with warning, "if you intend to keep him and this child alive, you must choose. Either you commit fully—claim him and stabilize his system—or you learn restraint. This in-between will destroy them both."
Adriel's jaw tightened. His hand was still in Eren's, their palms damp with shared heat. He could feel the trust there, even through the Omega's trembling.
But was it trust… or desperation?
For a moment, Adriel closed his eyes, struggling against the howl of his instincts. Every cell in his body screamed to claim, to anchor, to keep. But his mind—his duty—reminded him: this marriage was forged out of necessity, not love. If he bound Eren to him, there would be no undoing it.
"I won't let him break," Adriel murmured finally, his voice raw, the words meant for no one but himself.
"Find out what happened." Roen's voice cracked with fear, his hands trembling at the memory of Eren's pale face.
"I need answers now," Adriel commanded, his tone sharp and dangerous, carrying the oppressive weight of his Alpha pheromones even in his absence. Roen had felt it before leaving — a storm barely restrained. If he returned without the truth, Adriel's fury would be absolute.
Roen stormed back into the office, his steps echoing with purpose. The two women who had cornered Eren earlier froze as his gaze landed on them, their bravado shrinking under his scrutiny. He turned on Tyler and James, who lingered nearby, smirks tugging at their lips like predators scenting blood.
"Why are you interrogating us like this?" Tyler scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. His voice wavered slightly, though his posture screamed defiance. "It's not as if he was hurt. We barely pushed him. If he's that fragile, maybe he shouldn't even be here."
Roen's eyes darkened, and his Alpha presence flared, making the air thick and heavy. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "Do you have any idea how serious this is? Eren nearly lost his child. One more hit, one more push, and we would be talking about his miscarriage."
The women gasped, their faces draining of color.
"Child?" one of them whispered, horrified. "But… he's unbonded."
"That's—dangerous. Reckless," the other added, her voice trembling. "How could the President allow—"
"Enough." Roen's tone cut like a blade, silencing them instantly.
Tyler's expression flickered, but he recovered quickly, his smirk returning with venom. "So that's what this is about. No wonder Adriel's protecting him. Tell me, Roen—are you the father? Or is this just another one of Adriel's charity cases dressed up in silk?"
The two women exchanged glances, eyes darting between Tyler and James. Everyone in the office knew James and Eren had once been close, though that relationship had soured beyond repair. If anyone might have been suspected of fathering Eren's child, it would have been James.
James didn't speak, but his jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as though Tyler had gone too far.
Roen held his ground, his fury sharp but contained. "You don't need to know the details. What you do need to understand is this—if anyone lays a hand on Eren again, or so much as breathes another rumor, you'll answer directly to President Adriel. And believe me…" his voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "…you won't survive that."
The room went silent, the weight of his words pressing down like iron chains. Even Tyler's smirk faltered.
Roen's voice thundered through the office.
"I need answers. Now!" Roen's growl reverberated in the walls, his pheromones pressing down on the room like a storm front. His eyes locked on the trembling Omega before him, demanding truth without mercy.
One of the subordinates flinched, her hands shaking as she forced the words out.
"We… we didn't mean for it to go that far. It was just a petty argument," she whispered, unable to meet his gaze.
Her throat bobbed. "We didn't know Eren was pregnant. If we had known, we never would have—"
The room froze. Even James drew a sharp breath.
Roen's expression softened a fraction, but his authority remained ironclad.
"Petty argument or not, the consequences were severe. Eren and his child's lives were put at risk." His words carried the weight of judgment, low and deliberate.
James broke the silence, his Alpha restraint slipping.
"Where is Uncle Adriel? Did he stay at the hospital?" His voice held both worry and accusation.
"He's still there," Roen replied, tone heavy. "I doubt he'll return to the office today."
James's fists clenched, the faint tang of his frustration curling through the air.
"He's giving that Omega too much attention," James spat. "First he humiliated Kairen—our family's face—by denying him the honor of wearing the Crimson Fate at the anniversary. Instead, he placed it around Eren's throat. Eren, a secretary. A nobody. That brooch is priceless, and he entrusted it to him." Roen's eyes narrowed, though his voice remained steady, cutting through James's rising anger.
"You know your uncle's ways. You shouldn't be surprised. And perhaps he was right. Kairen may be a celebrated actor, but he's not blood. The Crimson Fate wasn't meant for him. It resonates with lineage, not applause."
The tension in the room thickened, pheromones swirling — dominance, resentment, confusion. The question of why Adriel had chosen Eren, of all people, hung unspoken yet undeniable.
And beneath it all, the fragile thread of an unborn child's life pulled every word taut.