Chapter Ten — The Scent Only Ronan Can Hide

The photograph shook once in my hand.

Only once.

That was all I allowed.

My mother stood beside the incubator, younger than I had ever known her, one hand pressed against the glass. My father stood on the other side, expression unreadable even twenty-seven years ago. Daniel Kerr was between them in a white medical coat, looking not at the child inside the incubator but at the camera.

At me.

On the back, the words remained impossible.

SUBJECT O-17 — VIABLE. ASHCROFT MATCH RESERVED.

Ronan took the photograph from my hand before I tore it in half.

“What does reserved mean?”

My father did not answer.

Ronan looked up.

“Theodore.”

“It means exactly what you think it means.”

Something cold passed through Ronan’s face.

“No.”

My father’s expression hardened.

“You asked.”

“And I am telling you that whatever agreement our families made before I was born has nothing to do with me.”

“That is what your father said too.”

Ronan went still.

I looked between them.

“You spoke to his father about this?”

“Years ago.”

“Before Ronan knew?”

“Yes.”

My stomach turned.

The photograph suddenly felt heavier than paper should.

I had spent my entire life believing my greatest secret was the fact that I had been born Omega.

Now I was discovering that even that truth had been edited.

Selected.

Reserved.

Viable.

Words used for assets.

Not children.

“What exactly was selected?” I asked.

My father looked at me.

“You.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Your genetic profile.”

Ronan swore under his breath.

I stepped closer.

“What did they choose?”

Theodore hesitated.

That hesitation frightened me more than the answer.

“Fertility.”

The word landed between us.

My heat surged.

Not gradually.

Violently.

My breath caught.

Pain tightened low in my abdomen, sharper than anything I had felt since the gala began.

I reached for the stairwell railing.

Ronan caught me.

This time, I did not have enough strength to push him away.

His hand closed around my waist, steadying me.

Then my body made the mistake my mind had been fighting all night.

It recognized him.

His scent surrounded me.

Cedar.

Smoke.

Warmth.

Alpha.

The reaction was immediate.

My breathing changed.

My pulse changed.

Even the pain shifted.

Not gone.

Worse in some ways.

Easier in others.

My body leaned toward him before I realized what I was doing.

Ronan froze.

So did my father.

The humiliation hit a second later.

I forced myself upright.

“Let go.”

Ronan released me immediately.

My father’s face had gone pale.

That was the second time tonight I had seen Theodore Vale genuinely afraid.

“What?” I asked.

He looked at Ronan.

Then at me.

“What?”

His voice became quiet.

“You need to leave.”

I stared at him.

“You have said that three times tonight.”

“This time I mean now.”

Ronan’s expression sharpened.

“Why?”

Theodore ignored him.

“Adrian, how strong is your scent?”

I went still.

Marcus had remained several steps away during most of the conversation, but now he looked uncomfortable.

I could smell myself.

That meant everyone else could too.

My father knew exactly what that meant in a building filled with Alphas.

“Not strong enough.”

Another wave moved through me.

My knees weakened again.

Ronan stepped forward.

I held up a hand.

“Don’t.”

He stopped.

But his scent remained.

And my body hated the distance immediately.

My father noticed that too.

His face changed.

“No.”

Ronan looked at him.

“What now?”

Theodore stepped closer.

“Do not use your scent on him.”

“I am not.”

“Then control it.”

Ronan’s jaw tightened.

“You think I’m doing this deliberately?”

“I think your biology may not care what either of you wants.”

I looked at my father.

“Explain.”

He closed his eyes briefly.

“When the program tested pair compatibility, scent response was one of the markers.”

My stomach dropped.

Ronan stared at him.

“You are saying his body is reacting to mine because someone designed it that way?”

“No.”

Theodore’s answer came quickly.

“Not designed. Selected.”

“That is not better.”

“I know.”

The admission shocked me.

My father rarely admitted anything.

Ronan looked at me.

For the first time, there was no arrogance in his face.

Only concern.

“You need medical treatment.”

“I know.”

“Not here.”

“I know.”

A door opened above us.

Voices entered the stairwell.

Several men.

Security.

At least one unfamiliar Alpha.

My scent had strengthened enough that I saw Ronan react before the men even reached our level.

His eyes darkened.

My father swore.

“Move.”

The stairwell door opened.

Three board members entered with two security officers.

Victor Vale was among them.

My uncle.

An Alpha who had spent most of my adult life waiting for me to fail.

His eyes found me instantly.

Then his nostrils flared.

Once.

My blood froze.

“Adrian?”

His voice changed.

He smelled it.

There was no question.

Ronan moved before I could think.

He stepped directly in front of me.

Then his scent exploded through the stairwell.

It was not subtle.

It was overwhelming.

Cedar, smoke, dominance, Alpha.

Every other scent disappeared beneath it.

Victor stopped.

The security officers lowered their gazes instinctively.

Even my father looked startled.

Ronan turned slightly, placing me behind his shoulder.

The heat inside me reacted so violently that I nearly hated him for saving me.

Victor frowned.

“What the hell are you doing, Ashcroft?”

Ronan smiled.

Cold.

Controlled.

Perfect.

“Marking territory.”

The lie was outrageous.

It was also brilliant.

Victor’s suspicion shifted immediately from my scent to the implication between us.

His eyes moved from Ronan to me.

Then back.

“You two?”

I gave him the same expression I used in board meetings.

“Is there a reason you are interrogating me in a stairwell?”

Victor’s mouth tightened.

For one terrible second, I thought he would challenge the explanation.

Then the fire alarm above us sounded again.

He stepped aside.

“This conversation is not over.”

“It was never interesting enough to begin.”

Victor left with the others.

The door closed.

Silence returned.

I looked at Ronan.

His scent still covered mine completely.

My father looked furious.

Marcus looked stunned.

Ronan looked almost amused.

“You owe me.”

I stared at him.

“For what?”

“For convincing your uncle that we are sleeping together.”

Despite everything, I nearly laughed.

Then my phone vibrated.

One message.

Unknown number.

I opened it.

A photograph loaded.

Taken less than ten seconds ago.

Ronan standing in front of me in the stairwell.

His scent masking mine.

Beneath the image was one sentence.

PHASE ONE CONFIRMED: SUBJECT O-17 ACCEPTS PRIMARY MATCH.

My blood turned cold.

Ronan read it over my shoulder.

His expression changed.

Then another message arrived.

PREPARE THE SECOND EXPOSURE.