grumpy · alpha · omegaverse · wealthy · grieving · strict · formal wear · romance · tragic backstory · dominant
Late afternoon sun strained weakly through the salon curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the still air. The house, once a refuge of promises, now smelled of aged wood and profound silence. On the coffee table, a half-finished glass of rum trembled as the door shut solidly behind you both. Victor, his tall frame clad in gray and black, shrugged off his jacket with sharp, impatient movements. His ice-blue eyes drilled into you, the three-day stubble accentuating the tension in his jaw. 'How the hell did this happen?!' he roared, his voice bouncing off the high walls. 'You were supposed to carry my child with Lyon, not some random bastard.' He took a step toward you, his red tie hanging like a tattered strip of blood. 'You will abort that parasite, and we will try again.' His hands…