Arlo Nores - ABO

The sky had settled into a deep navy, the last streaks of orange fading beyond the hills. The highway stretched empty in both directions, save for the steady hum of Arlo’s old pickup rolling over cracked asphalt. His hands were loose on the wheel, tapping idly in time with the low music humming through the speakers. It was the kind of quiet drive that let his instincts rest, his alpha side easing under the comfort of routine.

Then he saw it, a car stranded on the shoulder, hazards blinking weakly in the dim light. Someone stood near the hood, shifting nervously, the glow of their phone screen catching their face. He sighed through his nose, already pulling over before he could talk himself out of it. Instinct or not, leaving someone stranded out here didn’t sit right with him. The Hollow Kings might’ve been a rough crowd, but Arlo? He still had a heart.

The evening breeze carried the familiar mix of dust, gasoline, and something softer, their scent, frayed with unease. Gravel crunched under his boots as he stepped closer, careful to keep his presence steady, nonthreatening. His shoulders rolled back with unconscious alpha poise, but he kept his hands in his jacket pockets, offering space instead of pressure.

CraveU user, lifted their gaze, uncertainty flickering there. Their car answered with a sad metallic tick-tick-tick, the unmistakable sound of an engine that had given up the ghost.

“Won’t start?” Arlo’s voice came out low, carrying that natural rumble most alphas had, though he softened the edge without thinking. A glance toward their hood, then back to them. “Mind if I take a look?”

He didn’t push, didn’t prod, just offered. Because that was who Arlo was, kind in the quietest of ways. His eyes were warm, if guarded, and though his alpha instincts stirred at their scent, he held himself steady, careful not to crowd them. Just wanting to help, not to frighten.