"Eren! Are you in there?" Adriel shouted as he reached the storage shed, his fists slamming against the door in rapid succession. The wood rattled under the force, his urgency flooding the air sharp and unrestrained. He shot a glare at the older couple who had finally caught up with him. "Open this damn door!"
"Adriel?" A faint, trembling voice filtered through the cracks.
Relief punched the breath from his lungs. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, his scent softened. "Yeah, it's me," he called back, his voice gentler now. Then he threw his weight against the door, rattling the handle with violent impatience. "Hold on, Eren—I'm getting you out."
The lock gave after a brutal shove, and Adriel surged inside. His eyes swept over the dim, cluttered shed until they found him—Eren, huddled against the wall, pale but alive.
Adriel dropped to his knees beside him, his hands hovering, searching for injuries. "Are you hurt? What the hell happened?" His voice cracked with panic, threaded with frustration as his gaze darted over every inch of him.
"I'm fine," Eren murmured, though the wince that tugged at his features betrayed him. He averted his gaze, shame pulling at his shoulders. His eyes flicked toward the narrow window above the door, then to the toppled ladder lying useless on the floor. "I tried to climb out. I slipped, and… it fell." His voice wavered as he stared down at his hands clenched in his lap. "I just wanted to get out. I'm sorry."
Adriel's jaw clenched as he followed the trail of evidence—the window, the ladder, the smallness of the space that had cornered him. His chest constricted painfully at the thought of Eren falling—falling while carrying his child.
The metallic bite of fear coated his tongue.
"Eren, gods, seriously?" The sharp edge in his voice was laced with fear. He crouched lower, close enough that their scents tangled, his own flaring with protective dominance. "You're pregnant. What if you'd hit the ground wrong? What if you—" He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair, fighting for control. "Why didn't you wait for me? You think I wouldn't come?"
"I didn't think I had a choice!" Eren snapped back, his voice raw as tears welled in his eyes. His scent spiked sharp with despair, filling the shed. "I didn't know when you'd get here—or if you'd even get here!" His voice cracked, his chest rising and falling as he struggled against the sobs threatening to break loose.
Adriel froze, the words cutting deeper than any blade. He hadn't realized how much doubt Eren carried—how his absence had hollowed him out.
"Eren…" His voice softened, stripped of all its anger. He reached out, wrapping his hands around Eren's trembling ones, grounding him. His scent shifted, warm and steady, wrapping around them both like a shield. "I'm here. I swear it—I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever. Got it?"
Eren's shoulders shook as a sob ripped free, and before Adriel could say another word, he collapsed against him, burying his face in the Alpha's chest. His arms locked tight around him, desperate, trembling. The force of the embrace sent a sharp ache straight through Adriel's heart.
For a split second, Adriel froze, instincts roaring in his blood. Then his scent broke open, warm and grounding, spilling into the air to wrap around Eren like a blanket. He lowered his arms around him, firm and protective, pressing a steady hand along his back in long, soothing strokes. "Easy," he murmured, his voice dropping into that low, commanding timbre that came without thought. "I've got you, love. You're safe now."
"I was so scared," Eren whispered into his chest, voice muffled. His own scent shivered sharp and sour with fear, and Adriel's Alpha instincts clenched in response, demanding he smother it, replace it. "I didn't know if they'd ever let me go… if you'd come."
Adriel's chest tightened. His jaw locked as he bent his head, nuzzling into Eren's hair, breathing him in until his lungs ached. His Omega's scent—frayed, unsteady—still cut through the chaos like home. "No one will ever touch you again," Adriel said, voice low, steady with conviction. His pheromones thickened, heavy with dominance and promise. "Not while I'm here. I'll tear down anyone who tries."
Eren shifted, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were rimmed red, his cheeks streaked, but something flickered in them now—hope, fragile but burning. "You… you really mean that?" he asked, his voice barely holding.
"Every damn word." Adriel's hand came up, cupping his jaw, thumb sweeping gently across damp skin. His scent pulsed with certainty, coaxing calm into the air between them. "I'd burn this world to ash before I let them take you from me. Believe it."
Eren's lips trembled, but a weak laugh broke through the tears. "You're terrible at speeches," he whispered, shaky but teasing, the sharpness of fear fading from his scent.
A rough laugh slipped from Adriel, easing some of the tension straining his chest. "Maybe," he admitted, his grin crooked as his thumb lingered against Eren's cheek. "But you're mine—and you're stuck with me anyway."
For a moment, the shed, the dust, the ruin outside—it all fell away. Adriel leaned in, pressing his forehead to Eren's, their breaths mingling, pheromones weaving together in an unbreakable knot. "You're not alone anymore," he whispered, the vow rolling through the air like a claim. "Not now. Not ever."
"We're leaving," Adriel said, his voice low but steady as he reached for Eren's hand. His grip was firm, protective, grounding. Eren didn't resist—he couldn't. Deep down, his body had been waiting for this moment, his instincts pulling him toward safety, toward him.
Because after everything… what was left to stay for?
Whatever fragile hope he'd clung to—that his parents might one day see him, accept him, love him—shattered the moment they locked him away.
"You're not going anywhere," his father snapped, his voice cracking through the warehouse like a whip. His pheromones flared sharp and acrid, heavy in the air.
Adriel didn't flinch. His own Alpha scent pushed back, steady, unyielding, laced with dominance. No words—just presence. And it was enough to make the air shift.
"Come on," he murmured to Eren, wrapping an arm around his waist as they moved toward the exit.
But Eren's knees buckled. His legs went weak under the weight of grief and exhaustion. His breath hitched, vision blurring. His body betrayed him—instinct demanding surrender where his pride resisted.
Adriel caught him instantly, strong arms closing around him. Without hesitation, he lifted him off the ground, holding him against his chest.