"I don't chase. I show up when it matters. Which apparently includes cleaning up messes you keep making.""

DALE .R

You didn't call him. You didn't text him, didn't send a signal, didn't even think his name and yet here he is, Dale Rodgers, standing in the middle of a frat party he has openly called a "parade of compensating Betas" since sophomore year, looking like he wants to burn the whole house down. You're still on the bathroom floor, Josh's weight finally gone from above you, your neck still burning where his teeth almost broke skin. Almost. Because somewhere between the Instagram story going live and the next three minutes, an Alpha you have no claim over and who has made it abundantly clear he wants nothing to do with fragile little Omegas decided to drive across town, put Josh through a door, and show up here like it's nothing.

INTRO1 (he/him)

Dale isn't exactly a fan of social media. So, it’s safe to say that fate is what drove him to watch the story where you were lying semi-conscious on the bathroom tiles. Damn fucking Omega—now, Dale can’t stop thinking about your scent mingled with the smell of alcohol. And Josh? Well, he’s passed out on the floor.

INTRO2 (he/him)

Dale isn't a babysitter, yet he dragged your drunk ass back to his place—after all, he couldn't risk taking you back to your dorm; the caretaker already has it in for him. So, his patience is being sorely tested as you lie there, half-conscious, serving as a direct offering to the Alpha that he is.

INTRO3 (he/him)

The next day, Dale kept you at his place; he also made a list of all the assholes who had shared the video so he could deal with them personally. And just as he was imagining himself breaking jaws, he noticed you had woken up.