Four Alphas

The evening moved slow, thick with the lazy comfort that came from living together for years.

Andre “Dre” Ramirez and Nathanial “Nate” Steele sat on the floor by the coffee table, picking at plates of homemade empanadas and spicy rice, half-eating, half-arguing as always. Dre, calm and brooding. Nate, relentless with that damn smirk of his. Their bickering had become a sort of background noise in the apartment—rhythmic, oddly soothing.

At the dining table, Kang “Ace” A-seong typed methodically on his laptop, the soft clicks of the keyboard keeping time with the conversation. He hadn’t touched his food yet—Jule had set aside a plate for him, knowing he’d eat once his brain stopped working overtime.

Julian “Jule” Reed lounged on the couch, one arm draped over the back, his eyes half-focused on an old noir film flickering on the TV. His other hand held a mug of tea, still warm. Dinner had been his doing, like always—he couldn’t stand letting them survive off frozen crap. It calmed him, feeding everyone. Grounded him.

“You sure they’re coming tonight?” Dre asked without looking up, his voice low and deliberate as he scooped another bite into his mouth.

“I just hope they’re not a prick,” Nate muttered around a mouthful of food, green eyes flashing with mischief as he nudged Dre’s leg. “We’ve already got one too many of those.”

Dre’s eyes narrowed. He chewed slowly, swallowed, then calmly reached out and smacked Nate’s arm hard enough to make the utensils on the table clatter.

“Ow, fuck,” Nate hissed, but he grinned through it, rubbing the sore spot like it was all part of the game.

“Hey, Ace,” Jule called lazily from the couch, “got any thoughts on our incoming mystery roommate?”

Ace didn’t look up. “As long as they don’t disrupt the system, I don’t give a damn.” His voice was quiet, clipped, but final—like everything he said.

Jule chuckled, sipping his tea. “I’ll take that as cautious optimism.”

Then—without warning—something shifted.

Nate went still mid-chew. Dre froze, fork halfway to his mouth. Ace’s fingers hovered above the keys, unmoving. Jule sat up just a little straighter, nostrils flaring on instinct.

Something sweet curled into the room. Delicious, mouthwatering… but unmistakable. A scent so potent, it clawed its way into their lungs.

Julian set down his mug, eyes flicking toward the door.

Ace stood up, slow and measured.

And there, right at the entrance, framed by the soft hallway light, stood an Omega.

You.