"Roen!" Eren's voice carried through the lobby of the Ulrick Building, breath catching as he spotted the man just before he slipped past the doors.
Roen halted mid-step, brows lifting in surprise. "Eren? Whoa, slow down—don't run." Concern flickered in his eyes as the Omega hurried toward him.
"I wasn't going far," he added, stepping instinctively closer as if to steady him. "You didn't need to sprint."
Eren reached him, breath a little uneven, color high in his cheeks. Relief softened into a smile, bright and unguarded—though Roen's gaze sharpened, reading more than the expression offered. The doctor's instructions echoed in his mind: Eren's pregnancy needed care. And while Roen's role as Adriel's assistant didn't require playing guardian, loyalty had its own gravity. Protecting the Omega who clearly meant everything to his Alpha? That was nonnegotiable.
"Good thing I caught you," Eren said, brushing back a strand of hair dampened by the rush. "Where's Adriel? Still trapped in some meeting?"
Roen hesitated, debating how much to reveal, then grinned. "Not anymore. He bailed after lunch—something about cooking for someone special."
Eren blinked. "Cooking?"
"Hand to heart," Roen said with a laugh. "Adriel. Your high-powered Alpha husband. In the kitchen. Apron and all. He even roped in his client—the guy's wife is pregnant too, craving everything under the sun. So the two of them teamed up."
Eren covered his mouth, laughter bubbling through shock. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious. I've never seen him like that," Roen chuckled, shaking his head. "He used to wine and dine Claude at five-star restaurants. Today? He was chopping, stirring, even Googling recipes. Total chaos. But—" his grin softened "—he looked happy. Happier than I've ever seen him."
Roen's smile softened. "I think he just wanted to make something with his own hands—for you. And crazy enough? That home-cooked lunch even won the CEO over. Guy looked impressed."
Eren's eyes glistened, chest tightening with a rush of emotion. He hadn't expected that—but maybe that was the best part.
"Where's Adriel?" he asked, unable to mask the thread of worry in his voice.
Roen's brows lifted. "Wait—you didn't see him?"
Eren shook his head. "I stopped by his office earlier. All I found was a bouquet. No note. No Adriel."
Something in Roen's gut shifted. He didn't need Eren to spell it out—the Omega's scent already carried the sour edge of unease. "His schedule's clear. No meetings. No calls. He didn't say a word about heading out either."
Eren pressed a hand to his middle, trying for a smile that didn't quite land. "It's fine. Lucas is picking me up. Just… if you see Adriel, tell him not to stay out too late."
"Yeah," Roen said quietly. "I've got it."
He watched the Omega walk away, resisting the urge to trail after him like a guard dog. Then his phone buzzed.
A message lit the screen: Akira: With Adriel. At a bar. You might wanna swing by—he's gonna need help getting home.
Roen froze. A bar? His chest tightened. Adriel had planned a surprise for Eren. Now he was drowning himself in brandy?
What the hell happened?
Roen didn't waste time. He headed straight for the address Akira sent, instincts thrumming uneasily. Alphas didn't just drink—not like this. Not when their bonded Omega was pregnant and waiting.
When he walked in, the sight hit him like a punch.
Adriel sat hunched over the counter, glassy-eyed, swirling brandy like water. The sharp scent of alcohol clung to him, sour and heavy, burying the crisp cedar-and-spice Alpha signature that usually commanded a room. His glass hit the wood, and he signaled for another before the bartender even set it down.
"Good—you're here." Akira leaned against the bar, relief flickering in his expression. "Might wanna collect your boss before he starts telling the bartender his life story."
Roen stared, stunned. "It's barely evening. What the hell is he doing here?"
Adriel snorted, his words slurring just enough to grate. "I'm just getting started." He downed the drink in one motion, stubborn defiance burning behind the glassiness in his eyes.
Akira frowned, trying again. "Bro, how many of those are you planning to kill tonight? Did something happen with Eren?"
Adriel didn't answer. He just lifted the empty glass, signaling for another round.
Roen glanced at Adriel, uneasy. This wasn't the Alpha he worked for—the polished, calculating executive who could dominate a boardroom with nothing but silence.
The man hunched over the counter now was unraveling, his cedar-spice scent soured and dulled under the heavy burn of brandy.
Akira exhaled, frustrated. "This can't be about some deal falling through. Nobody drinks themselves stupid over a missed contract."
Roen nodded slowly, mind churning. "Exactly. Something deeper's clawing at him."
He pulled a chair close, voice gentler now. "We ran into Eren earlier. He was waiting for you at the office. Didn't say much, but it showed on his face—he's worried."
Adriel's hand stilled, glass hovering inches from his mouth. His grip faltered. His eyes snapped to Roen, narrowing like a wolf catching a scent it didn't like.
"He told me not to let you stay out too late," Roen added, carefully choosing the words. "Especially not like this. If he knew you were drinking yourself numb…" He let the warning hang.
Adriel's jaw flexed, the muscle ticking hard. "Who picked him up?" The question came low, edged, almost a growl.
"Lucas," Roen answered at once, steady as stone—like he'd expected it. "And no, he didn't look happy about it."
From across the table, Akira gave a sharp snort. He reached over, plucked the glass from Adriel's hand, and set it out of reach. "Time to cut you off. I've got a wife waiting at home, and if I'm late, I'll be sleeping on the porch. You?" His gaze narrowed. "Eren's at your mansion. Surrounded by people who treat him like a shadow. You think he wants to spend the night alone with those sharks while you waste yourself here?"
A shadow crossed Adriel's face—guilt, or something heavier. Bringing Eren back to the Ulrick mansion had seemed smart. Safe. But safe didn't mean welcome.
Not with James circling like a vulture. Not with a family who prized polished, perfect, and proper—everything Eren wasn't.
"Go," Akira said, jerking his chin at Roen. "Get your Alpha out of here. I'll cover the tab. Add it to his running debt."
Roen cracked a grin and rose, looping an arm under Adriel's to steady him. The Alpha's weight pressed down hard—more than liquor, heavier than pride. Together, they made for the door.
Akira watched them leave, his smirk fading into something quieter. He'd seen Adriel like this before—wrecked, drowning in drink. The first time had been when Claude walked out. No warning. No note. Just gone, leaving behind shattered vows and a man who'd spent years building a future that vanished overnight.
Adriel had never been the same.
When he married Eren, Akira had felt relieved. Maybe even hopeful. The young Omega had lit something in Adriel's eyes that Claude never had. For once, it seemed like Adriel had moved on.
But watching him now, crumbling under old ghosts, Akira wasn't so sure.