I'm doomed! DOOMED!

Theron spun on his heel, his eyes wide. "Then the problem is me! I must've done something wrong. Maybe I contaminated the sample somehow! Oh no, what if I accidentally bonded myself to Kael by touching the device? Is that even a thing?!"

Rex blinked. "That is not how mate bonds work."

"HOW DO YOU KNOW?!" Theron shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "You're a watch!"

"I am also a highly advanced AI with access to extensive databases on supernatural biology," Rex replied evenly.

Theron groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. "This is a disaster. An actual disaster. What am I supposed to do? Tell Kael? 'Hey buddy, guess what? That mate you've been dreaming about your whole life? Surprise! It's me! Your nerdy little gnome friend who builds gadgets and can barely reach the top shelf!' Yeah, that'll go over great."

He flopped back into his chair, staring at the Bondometer like it was a ticking time bomb. "He's going to laugh. Or worse, he's going to pity me. Or—oh gods—what if he's disgusted? What if he never wants to see me again?!"

Rex tilted its head again. "These scenarios are speculative and lack evidence."

"Speculative? Speculative?!" Theron shot out of his chair. "Do you know Kael? Do you know what he's like? He's charming and funny and... and gorgeous, okay? He's practically perfect! And I'm… I'm…" He gestured to himself, sputtering. "I'm me! This isn't just speculative—it's inevitable!"

Rex blinked. "Your analysis appears overly emotional."

Theron pointed a finger at the AI. "Of course I'm emotional! I just found out I'm mated to my best friend! Do you know what that means? I'm doomed! DOOMED!"

He began pacing again, muttering under his breath. "This has to be a cosmic joke. Some kind of cruel, ironic punishment for… for… I don't know, existing! What did I do to deserve this? All I wanted was to help Kael find his perfect mate, and now I'M the mate?! That's not helping! That's the opposite of helping!"

Rex's calm voice cut through his ranting. "Would you like me to prepare a plan of action?"

Theron froze mid-step, then turned slowly to face the AI. "Plan of action?"

"Yes," Rex said. "Step one: Calm down. Step two: Consider the possibility that Kael may not react negatively. Step three: Decide whether or not to disclose the information."

Theron stared at Rex, then burst out laughing—loud, hysterical laughter that bordered on manic. "Calm down? Calm down? Oh sure, I'll just 'calm down.' No big deal. It's not like my entire life just turned upside down or anything!"

He sank onto his bed, clutching a pillow to his chest. "I'm never telling him. Ever. I'll take this to my grave. Kael can live happily ever after thinking his mate is out there somewhere, and I'll… I'll just… I don't know. Become a hermit. Move to the mountains. Build a nice cave."

Rex blinked again. "This response is illogical."

Theron groaned, burying his face in the pillow. "Everything about this is illogical, Rex. Everything."

The Bondometer, still sitting innocently on the desk, beeped again. Theron peeked out from behind the pillow and glared at it.

"You," he muttered darkly, "are the worst invention I've ever made."

The silence in Theron's lab was thick enough to cut with a knife, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of the ventilation system and the occasional, infuriating beep of the Bondometer. Days had passed since the earth-shattering discovery, each one a torturous exercise in internal debate. He'd cleaned the lab, reorganized his tools, attended lectures, even attempted to start a new project, but his thoughts always circled back to the same impossible truth: he was Kael's mate.

He'd spent hours staring at the device, trying to find a flaw, a glitch, anything that would invalidate the result. He'd even run the test again, multiple times, each confirming the same terrifying reality. Rex, ever the bastion of logic, had compiled a list of potential outcomes, from the best-case scenario where Kael was overjoyed to the worst-case scenario where Kael laughed him out of the pack. The list was entirely unhelpful.

He needed a plan, a foolproof strategy to navigate this minefield. He considered erasing his memory, moving to a secluded island, or perhaps inventing a device that could reverse mate bonds. Each option seemed equally ridiculous and tragically necessary.

He'd replayed the "bonding" incident a thousand times in his head. Could it have been a fluke? A sensor malfunction? He'd meticulously checked and re-checked his algorithms, his coding, every component of the wristband. The thing was flawless. Horrifyingly flawless.

He'd even entertained the idea of destroying the Bondometer. Smashing it to bits, erasing the evidence of this… this cosmic mismatch. But his scientific mind, the very core of his being, rebelled against such blatant disregard for data. Besides, what if it had registered the bond in Kael somehow? Would destroying the device somehow…unbind them? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He didn't even know if that was a thing. His knowledge of mate bonds leaned heavily on folklore and Kael's excited ramblings, neither of which were particularly scientific.

The question of when and how to tell Kael gnawed at him. Every scenario ended in disaster. Laughter, pity, disgust – the possibilities were a grim carousel of social catastrophes. He envisioned trying to explain it, his voice cracking, his hands shaking, and Kael's brow furrowing in confusion, then dawning horror. No. No, that couldn't happen.

The shrill ringing of his communicator shattered his concentration. He jumped, nearly knocking over a beaker filled with shimmering, vaguely purple liquid. It was Kael. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat urging him to run, to hide, to pretend he never existed.

"Hey, Theron!" Kael's familiar voice burst through the receiver, warm and effortlessly cheerful. It was the kind of tone that always managed to calm Theron's nerves—except now, it only tightened the knot in his stomach. "Sorry I haven't called sooner. This whole ritual prep is dragging on longer than anyone expected. The priests keep saying it's not the right time yet, something about the stars or the moon or whatever. And my dad—don't even get me started—he's been dragging me into endless strategy meetings with the alphas. It's been nonstop chaos. How's everything over there?"

Kael's words flowed like a river, his casual ease a stark contrast to the storm raging in Theron's mind. He could almost picture Kael lounging somewhere, probably grinning, completely unaware of the emotional earthquake Theron was enduring.

Theron took a deep breath, forcing his voice to stay steady, casual, and totally unaffected. "Everything's… fine. You know, just the usual. Deciphering the mating rituals of bioluminescent fungi. Typical Thursday night stuff." He winced internally, the words sounding far more forced than he'd intended.