In the dimly lit confines of his office, Rage sat behind his desk, his fingers tapping on the wooden table as he pondered deeper about his plans.
The shadows from the desk lamp cast flickering patterns across his face, accentuating his cold, ruthless, and calculating eyes. The room, as silent as the dead eerie night, was filled with his dominant scent.
Rage is already in his forties, but he is an alpha, a dominant one. And alphas, no matter the age, still experienced ruts. However, unlike his early years where he sought the warmth and flesh of an omega, he stopped indulging in their embrace, given how an omega betrayed him.
So, during his pre-rut and post-rut, he'd stay in his haven, putting his brain to work enhancing his plans after taking some strong suppressants.