"I didn't say anything," Raff says.
"You didn't have to," Cliff says.
Adam’s smile grows, and some of the rigid panic in his shoulders loosens by one small, grudging degree.
"Stop acting like a child," Perrin says, shifting slightly closer to his brother, which I did not think was physically possible given how close he already was. "Elowen doesn't have a serious medical condition." He leans down, lookingright into his brother’s eyes. "And to treat it, they need to know what you are. All of what you are."
Adam opens his mouth.
"Don't," Perrin says preemptively.
And Adam closes it.
The omega looks up at the ceiling, his jaw tight, his fingers curling around the edge of the exam table. He looks like a man trying very hard to talk himself into something and not quite getting there.
I'm about to say something when the door opens.
The doctor steps in with a tablet in one hand and a manila folder in the other, and she's already looking at the folder when she speaks.
"Good morning, Durrant pack." She closes the door behind her, pulls the rolling stool out from under the counter, and sits down. When she finally looks up, her eyes move briefly around the room. “Who’s the pack alpha?”
“I am,” Cliff speaks up, but he stays where he retreated to the wall.
"I'm Dr. Osei," she says, and something in her expression shifts into something careful and considered. "I have your mate’s bloodwork back." She glances down at the folder, then looks directly at Adam. "And I think we have quite a bit to talk about."
Adam's grip on the edge of the exam table tightens.
“There's quite a lot here, and I want to make sure you understand all of it." Dr. Osei says, setting the folder open on the counter, then she looks at Adam over the top of her glasses. "Mr. Durrant, your hormone panel confirms that you are a male omega."
"No shit," Adam says flatly, and Perrin smacks his arm gently.
Dr. Osei's mouth twitches. “No shit," she agrees, withthe calm professionalism of a woman who has clearly heard worse. "Now.” She turns back to the folder. “The more interesting question is why nobody caught this sooner, and the answer to that lies in your medication history." She looks up. "Verenthicin."
“So, it was suppressing his omega biology,” I say.
Dr. Osei looks at me with an expression of mild, appreciative surprise. "That's exactly right." She looks back at Adam. "Verenthicin was prescribed to manage your autoimmune symptoms, which it did effectively. But as a significant side effect, it flatlined your omega hormones entirely. Your scent gland development was arrested. Your heat cycles never activated. Your pheromone production was suppressed to undetectable levels." She pauses. "You were never a beta, Mr. Durrant. Your omega biology was simply being chemically overridden for fifteen years."
The silence that follows is a different kind than before.
Adam's hand moves first. It finds Perrin's on his left, fingers lacing through his brother's without looking. Then his right hand reaches out and finds mine, and I take it without hesitation, squeezing once.
"My scent glands," Adam says, his voice very careful and very controlled. "You said their development was…arrested?"
"Yes," Dr. Osei rolls her stool closer to the exam table. "May I?"
Adam nods stiffly.
She stands, then reaches up with both hands and turns his head gently to the left first. She examines the mating bite on that side. Her fingers press lightly around the edges of the mark, feeling rather than looking, and Adam winces slightly but holds still.
"These are beautiful," she says, almost to herself.
Adam blinks. "Sorry?"
"Your mating bites." She turns his head to the right, examining the second mark with the same careful attention. "Clean edges, bruising well, no sign of infection. Your alphas knew what they were doing." She nods once, satisfied, then her touch shifts slightly, moving to the soft tissue right below and behind the bite mark. Her brow furrows slightly. "There it is," she murmurs.
"There what is?" Adam asks, his voice very careful.
"Your left scent gland." She keeps her fingers there, gentle and precise. "It's nicked rather than fully bitten, which is consistent with a gland that sits a little further back than usual. But the bond should be viable." She releases him and moves to the right side, pressing carefully. Her expression shifts into something more considered. "And this one." She pauses. "This one is very small. Underdeveloped. Present, but sitting unusually low."
