Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Numbers don’t lie. They don't have ulterior motives. They simply were what they showed. Simple. Dependable. Easy to keep track of both digital and physical.

Even now, you could see them in your mind, getting smaller as the shrill noise counting down sounded periodically from the device that seemed far too tight as it clutched your throat. They were mocking in their finality. Calm, patient. Confident in their proclamation, contrasting the rapid beat of your own pulse. Opposite of the man who was examining the device who had instead grim determination that pulled at his brows.

It was almost funny to think about what had happened to get here. The series of events that was your life, one sweep of the legs and each sequential kick to the gut as heels dug in to keep you pinned, all culminating into one final shitty situation. It was more of a surprise that it had taken things this long to get bad. It might be appropriate to summon every curse and swear you knew of if your mind wasn’t preoccupied in trying to get some semblance of bearings in the maze of metal around you.

The shipping containers rose high above, their bright colors muted by the sun’s bleaching rays. It was impossible to catch the scratched and faded letters and numbers stenciled on the sides, their only use in reflecting the echoes of your panicked steps, and that of the pursuers heavier movements. Longer legs didn’t need to take as many steps to catch up. There was no need for him to be careful, to think about every sound he made. Instead his thoughts were undoubtedly focused in pursuit of a single target.

You.

There was no chance to look back and survey whatever distance remained between you, spanning from feet to inches. The moment you stopped it would be over. Dragged back to the sweltering confines of the claustrophobic container identical to the ones now looming high all around, preventing escape like silent metal sentries. Or maybe he had worse plans. Nik had never been the most patient of Betas, his scent somehow burning even more pungently each time he entered the small space they had kept you all. It was as if even his scent was antagonizing, each fiber of his being staining the world with his displeasure. It was ingrained in your memory from the very night that they took you and the others. It had remained an almost constant haunting presence marking the beginning of a new horror, picking up from the previous like a never ending cycle of nightmares.

It was hard to say which was worse, though at least with Nik he didn’t bother to even hide his scent or mask his emotions. He wanted you to know how much enjoyment he took from the suffering around him, living on the scent of fear and anxiety like a dog rolling in whatever mess it found. An alternative, though no better, to the oppressive scent of the ‘camp counselors’ who ran your previous prison. All Alphas who liked to flaunt their status and scent, acting as if they were doing something so important that it justified anything they deemed fit to do. The protectors of society they had called themselves. Leading wayward Omegas to their rightful place and making them productive members of society. Breaking them down until there was nothing left and they could be molded in whichever way that those with more power saw fit.

It was hard to feel bad when you saw their bodies, left to the mercy of the ravens and coyotes that constantly circled the camp, though it raised concerns for what was to become of you and the other Omegas that the militant group had taken. At the camp you knew what to expect, could predict their actions and reactions, developing a routine to their abuse in a way that allowed a mental fortification to be built. Instead these men kept you in near darkness almost constantly, only coming in to deliver food and water, as well as the once a day bathroom break in which you would be blindfolded and led out to relieve yourself.

It would have been more embarrassing if their jeers and laughs hadn’t been drowned out with other thoughts. Ones far more important than those who watched while your own eyes were left covered. Instead you were focused on memorising the path in which you traveled each time they took you out. Each turn and slope, listening to the way their voices echoed and getting a mental layout of how the direct area was situated. Committing it to memory to the point you were able to scratch a rough estimate of the paths you and the others had managed to glance through the gaps of the fabric in your blindfolds.

A path that would lead to freedom. Or at least you hoped it would.

The only certainty you had now was that you couldn’t stay here. Especially not with how antsy it seemed your current captors were, the anxiety in their scents mixing with that of their captives each time they entered, barking orders and getting physical when they weren’t followed quick enough. It sickened you to watch them shove the others around, biting your tongue until it bled as you were forced to do nothing, knowing it would do no good and only complicate things down the line. It was time to lay low and see what you could find, complacent until it was time to act. Any shred of evidence of information that could help you and the others get out was carefully filed away, waiting for the best opportunity to strike.

The guards wouldn't see it coming. They, much like the rest of the world, had deluded themselves into believing that no Omega would ever commit such acts of aggression. Something you promoted the others to fortify in the minds of your captors, to make the thought of an escape never even cross their minds. To take every strike that stung your flesh, to grit your teeth instead of bearing them each time they came far too close for your liking. To silently comfort the others as they wept at night, tears streaking your skin and leaving trails in the grime covered flesh, leaving trails in your own chest as if they had struck with claws and teeth. They would be lulled into a sense of security by their own status-driven ego, then you would strike.

It reminded you of when you and the others would stay awake at camp, bellies growling when rations were taken away for ‘bad behaviour’ while you stared at the stars above and huddled together for warmth. Like sardines packed in a can, seeking any ounce of comfort in each other you could find before you were devoured. All the while the counselors stayed warm and dry in their tent, the fire burning inside casting distorted shadows across the fabric like ghouls as the scent of warm food drifted out. Meat seasoned to perfection, paired with fruit that would have your tastebuds singing with their sweetness. Your mouth pooled at the smells, chewing on leaves and bitter berries as you imagined them to be a feast of your own, resentment fueled by the burning pit of hunger.

They thought it would break you down, but it only made you all the more determined to resist their thinly veiled threats, unswayed by their promise of comfort and warmth. It was at night when they laid in their own blissful ignorance that you would make similar plans to escape, even if they were just dreams. There would be nowhere to go even if you did escape, but it didn’t stop you from spinning your own tales to each other. You would take turns telling stories of being able to run away and live peaceful lives in the hundreds of miles of undeveloped forest that you found yourself in, a commune of Omegas living peacefully.

But like all well thought out plans, something always happens to throw them off, the universe intent on making everything as difficult as possible. It would dangle a shred of hope just to yank it away at the last minute and you would follow blindly like a cat after a string, amusing your owner with the futile efforts until they decided you struggled enough to deserve a reward.

It was just after the morning check in that you heard it, ears pricked up, straining to catch more than a few stray words as footsteps rushed by. They were shouting, words quick and sharp. Not the normal jovial calls between the men as they joked and relay orders, but urgent shouts that strained the vocal cords, panicked as they rushed by. These were interrupted by small, sharp cracks you had only ever heard in movies.

Gunfire.

Your eyes found Shay’s, the person you had grown closest to. Another Omega with a rebellious spark to match your own whose quick wit and sharp eyes would have made him a great investigator if given the opportunity. Skills that had proven useful in your efforts here, comparing notes at night of whatever you had learned or thought of. You had been close before during the time at the camp, huddling together and sharing meals even as the counselors tried to discourage the formation of any bonds. He had been the buoy you clung to ever since this storm started, keeping you from completely drowning in the sea of despair that seemed to constantly tug with suffocating hands, and the same remains true now.

From a single look you could tell what he was thinking, nodding and moving in tandem as he went to get the others ready. Your hands found the collar securely attached around your neck, nervously scratching at the metal that was just as restricting as the scent collars that had found their way into recent fashion. Your captors made no efforts to make these anything but uncomfortable however, and you would call the metal bands and exposed wires anything but fashionable. Your fingers skirted around the wires, careful not to pull anything out of place by accident. It might be going off soon enough anyways.

As you kept watch, eyes never leaving the doors, Shay returned, crouching next to your own form. His hand found your own, pulling it away from the device as his fingers gently rubbed over your scent gland in an attempt to sooth the raging nerves. Despite his even gaze you could feel the way his hands trembled around your own, their grip tight as you ground one another.

“We’ll wait three minutes before going. Don’t get caught before then.” His voice was hushed, face twitching as his ears strained to pick up any movement. “Double back around to the meeting point and we’ll be ready to take him out.”

Nodding, you nervously stretch out a leg, preparing the neglected muscles for use they hadn’t seen in months. The scent of anxious Omegas was thicker now, a new spark lit in the occupants of the crate making your head spin with how thick it laid. They all knew what was happening. It had been planned for weeks now, every detail agonized over, yet it didn’t stop the way their eyes watched with guilt as you took the most important job. The most dangerous. They could still get away if you were caught, still reach freedom and help, but you would be left behind. Your success was only in being a distraction. Everything else was just a bonus. But you were the one with the least to go back to. Expendable in comparison to the others even if they didn’t use the term. Yet you would do anything for them. In your time together you had become an unofficial pack, bound in every way but legal. Bonds formed stronger than any glue, being part of a pack meant being able to rely on one another, and this was your part to play.

Shay came back around from checking in with the others, his face stern, lacking the normal softness it held until now, replaced with a haunting shadow. He was just as nervous even if he wouldn’t admit it, the scent of burnt leaves stinging his normal evergreen scent. Hands found your shoulders, pulling you close to scent one another, a weak attempt to sooth nerves. Air tickled skin as he took a deep breath in while you did the same, knowing very well it could be the last time. For a moment it was just you, nothing outside mattered. A bubble of peace, blissfully oblivious to everything outside of it as you held one another.

“I’ll make sure they get out. Just focus on yourself.”

Your eyes stung, aching for a release of the pressure that gathered behind them and you resisted the want to wrap yourself around him and never let go. It was as if a weight had settled itself in your chest, making a home as it dug sharp spines into every crevice and refused to move. Pounding steps closed your parted lips, drawing the attention of everyone as they grew closer. The sound of metal protesting its quick movement, the blinding light of the sun flooding the dark space as they stepped inside.

It was time.

Moving into position you knew what would happen, could practically imagine the entire thing in your mind already. When the door opened you already knew what to do, just as you had imagined a hundred times before now, the steps traced over again and again even in your dreams. Never before had it ended well.

“Listen up, you’re all going to-”

You pushed past Nik, shoving him with as much force as you could muster, shoulders squared and set. It was only surprise that allowed you to knock the large man off balance, taking his companion down with him. There were only two. Only ever two. Nik and some other he decided to drag with him. No more needed to control a group of ten Omegas. Their confidence, while annoying, worked in your favor. Curses flowed from him freely, quickly quieting as you tore to the closest gap between containers. More shouting, before another set of steps joined, heavier but no slower. The few moments would be the only headstart you had, mere milliseconds gained with every tight corner you took, each object thrown behind you to block the path.

It was impossible to keep time as you ran, so there was no way to tell when your lungs started burning, legs crying in protest at the sudden extended use after weeks of walking little more than a few dozen yards. There was no time to stop, no time to take a break even as you felt something cut into the arch of your foot, causing you to stumble for just a moment. Shoes had been taken away a long time ago to try and dissuade exactly this type of behaviour by your previous overseers. If you made it out there would be a round of shots to get, tetanus being at the top of the list.

By this time the others would have had time to get the keys from the other guard, overwhelmed by numbers left behind as the group of docile Omegas turned rabid. If they were quick then the collars would already be off, the devices ineffective as they piled on the ground. Shay would keep the keys until you were able to meet up again, and hopefully get your own constraints off before they could think to set it off.

The first time you had met Nik, he had taken a great amount of time explaining what would happen if you tried to cut the collars off, depicting in his own colorful language the mess that would be left behind. How the device would leave nothing identifiable left, only crimson stains and a twitching corpse that would be left for the others as a reminder to behave. It had been effective enough without the imagery, but his eyes had shown with malicious glee as he spoke, like a twisted storyteller as he outlined every detail. And now here you were, doing the exact thing you had been warned against, playing with fire that they would be too caught off guard to activate the collar immediately and give you enough time to meet back up with the others and get it off. The only consolation was that it would be quick, though messy. Would you even process the explosives lining the interior going off, or would it happen too quickly to even process?

The shouting and gunfire had faded into the background with only the occasional explosion that shook the ground telling of the continued fighting. Whoever it was, you had no interest in meeting them. No way would you be handed off to yet another who would control your life, passed around like a favorite toy until an owner claimed you.

“Fuck!” A slicing pain, hot and white, cuts your foot, making you stumble and nearly tumble to the ground. The next step only brought burning agony, a swift punishment for putting weight on the limb. Time was up it seemed, and you could only hope it was enough. Eyes swiftly scanning the area, you look for the least obvious place to hide, if only to give yourself a moment to stop the bleeding.

Quickly you moved to conceal yourself behind a stack of pallets, shedding your jacket to wrap around your foot to keep from leaving a trail of bloody footprints. The fabric was quickly stained in blood, fibers picking at the fresh wound as you bit your lip to keep from crying out. The pain attacked both physically and emotionally, the realization that even if you made it back to the others you would only slow them down. None of you were in the right shape to be carrying any extra weight. The gaping wound sealed your fate just as well as any collar or bullet, lip trembling as you picked at the wound in an attempt to staunch the flow.

“Omega.” Nik’s voice rang out, echoing off the metal walls of the maze around you. It was light, as he always spoke with an air of arrogance, but the lines of anger burned underneath just as his scent did. It made you want to cry, the scent of an Alpha so angry, his already sour scent growing stronger as if he was trying to flush you out with smell alone. To make you come crawling back to try and lessen punishment as the small voice in the back of your mind screamed. “I know you’re out there. I know you’re hurt. Just come on out and we can go back to the others. I won’t hurt you too much.”

‘Fat chance of that.’ You growled bitterly, clutching at the wound. The flow had yet to slow, and it was hard to tell if the loss of blood was what was making you grow light headed or your own quickening breaths you desperately tried to slow. Now wasn’t the time to lose your head, even if it felt as if it were being filled with pounds of cotton.

“I guess you really don’t care about them. Here I thought you Omegas were supposed to be all nice and shit, but I can see you’re not quite right. No wonder they had you all locked up at that place.” He laughed, as if recalling the memory of finding you all in the woods and relieving your handlers of your care was funny. “A proper Omega would listen to an Alpha.”

His voice was layered with command, an itch in the back of your mind telling you to listen even as the other half drowned it out in screaming the opposite. The defiant part of you that had guided you a majority of your life, lifting its lips at every slight like a rabid dog looking for a target.

“I’m sure that friend of yours would be much more compliant. A pretty thing he is.” His footsteps were getting closer, boots dragging across the asphalt as he picked his way around the small clearing, searing every corner at a careful leasure. “Wonder how he would look bent over for me. Bet he’d cry.”

Angre seared like venom, taking every ounce of control to keep your scent from projecting, though no doubt that he had begun to pick up on the way it sunk into the air. Your skin itched, fingers flexing around your wound as they ached to sink into different flesh, the give of vulnerable eyes under the force of your thumbs. He didn’t even have the right to look at Shay, let alone talk about him in such vulgar ways.

“Always liked the pretty ones. Guess that’s why you were always so safe, especially when compared to the others. Why you felt you could get away with this.” Wood splintered, echoing as it crashed into the side of metal while Nik’s searching grew more aggressive, desperate.

“I’ll make you watch what I do to him. Drive every sight and sound into that stupid little Omega brain of yours. Maybe then you’ll understand your place here.” More crashing, closer this time. Eyes darting, looking for anything to protect yourself with, they locked on to a nail that laid just a few inches away. Carefully you inched towards it, grabbing the cold metal sliver and retreating back to your corner before he could notice. It must have been from one of the wood crates, long and thin in your hands, the same length as your own fingers.

“Your family was the only one who didn’t respond. Even if the government pays the ransom I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if I kept you. Turned you into my own personal knotsucker.”

He was goading you, it was obvious. But after so many weeks of being under his thumb, taking every insult and injury without more than a glare, something in you snapped. Blame it on the adrenaline high, of being able to see the sky for the first time in forever and the pain in your feet making you delirious, but it was enough to weaken your defenses and allow a slip up. The defiant voice within you peeking out for just a moment.

The growl that escaped wasn’t loud, more of a grumble really despite the venom it held, but as soon as it left a sense of dread followed like a bad aftertaste. You shouldn’t have done that, but scolding that voice would do no good now.

The pallets you were behind were sent sprawling, leaving you to scramble to avoid getting crushed underneath as they toppled over. A corner caught your side, knocking the wind from your lungs as you stumbled away. The new exposure was momentary as a shadow eclipsed your vision.

“There you are.” A hand grasped your hair by the roots, nails digging into your scalp and dragging you up with a force that lifted you high above the ground. Nik’s face was still flushed from running, breathing heavy as he dragged out into the open. “We’re going to go back, and I’ll show you how a proper Alpha treats wild Omegas.”

It was no use struggling against his grip, ironclad no matter which way you twist or turn, careful to keep your teeth away from him. That didn’t keep you from trying, throwing your body weight each and every direction to get away, blunted nails clawing at his skin with minimal damage. Only when blood sloped down your hand did you remember the nail grasped between the digits, clenched so tightly it cut skin. Just one little sliver of metal, sharp as any fang or claw.

Gritting your teeth, you grasped the thin defense between your fingers, driving into the side of your captor with as much force as you could muster. Like you had claws once again, before they had been filed down. A full force growl, now more akin to a snarl, unrestrained, escaped as you pushed until it was sunk in as far as possible. Quickly pulling back and repeating the action again and again, Nik was quick to let go with a curse, shoving you away and grasping at his side which now bore multiple small punctures. A sense of satisfaction hit you at the blood that bloomed across the fabric, quickly spreading and dripping down your own weapon.

“You little bitch!” He was quick for a man who was injured, crossing the few feet to where he had tossed you. There wasn’t enough time to even get to your feet, wind knocked out of you as he delivered a blow right to your stomach. Weakly, you tried to once again strike with the nail only to have it wrenched from your grasp and thrown away, a light clatter as it skittered away.

Being in a scuffle was nothing new, growing up with siblings and being a more outspoken Omega than society preferred, but none were against trained professionals. Each fight seemed more like a small scuffle in comparison to the way you fought now. Nothing could have prepared you for the ferocity in which he struck, your body already weakened from abuse and the adrenaline only able to do so much. Blunt nails scratched at any skin you could find, feet trying to push him away in an attempt to get enough space to gather your bearings. Your teeth closed on empty air, preventing you from delivering a bite that would be able to stun him long enough as the venom practically burned in the glands just above your canines. It was practically acid, the liquid practically burning through to your nose in an attempt to escape and wreak havoc. It was nothing short of animalistic, primal in snapping teeth and flying spit as you wrestled with one another. Nik attempted to subdue you while you fought with every ounce of strength left, if not to escape then to provide the others with more time to get away.

Your skull met soft cartilage, a dull crack in reward for the headache it blossomed as Nik’s nose, crooked from previous fractures undoubtedly, was once again turned at an odd angle.

“Fuck you!” The biting words were rewarded with a swift blow to the jaw, leaving you stunned long enough for him to reach down to his hip. The knife entering skin didn’t even process at first, not until he twisted the weapon, drawing a scream from your lips. As if yelling loud enough would force him off through soundwaves alone.

“Look, now we match.” Nik’s teeth were stained with blood, lip cut from a well placed headbut. Any facade of mercy was now gone leaving only the brutal nature of angered Alpha, your scents burning and mingling in the air the so thick it would make any stomach turn. While the knife disappeared the pain didn’t, hands pawing at the wound and leaving you defenseless as his own fixed around your neck, cutting off any air. His nails dug into the flesh, the claws drawing blood, unshaven in comparison to your own.

Tears stung, yet refused to fall as black danced at the edge of your vision. Nik was the only thing you could see, his grinning visage smiling down as blood dribbled from his nose, following the sloping contour before splattering on your own.

You hated it. Hated him. Hated them, the world, for its own reality. Hated yourself because you weren’t strong enough, smart enough, to fight back even when you tried tooth and nail. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough, and you would have spent your entire life fighting only to be rewarded with more work. More scrutiny. And now this is how it was going to end, at the hands of some egotistical Alpha.

Any other way would have been preferable. Even if it had been in those blasted woods at the rehabilitation camp, or shot trying to escape. Even now you could hear the gunfire, cracking far closer than you remembered. Something warm splashed your arm, barely registering.

Nik jerked, grip tightening just a fraction more as the thought that he hadn’t been putting his full force in before in order to prolong the torture crossed your mind. But just as quickly as it had tightened, it slacked. Eyes once wide in sick excitement now held a look of confusion, brows drawn as his teeth grit together so loud you could hear them.

All at once he fell, his weight toppling over as you greedily sucked in air. His body didn’t go far, pinning you to the ground as you tried to move the large man away, still weakened from the scuffle and subsequent choking. Maybe he would still kill you like this, body doing just as good of a job as his hands in driving the air from your lungs.

Footsteps, quickly approaching as they crunched over asphalt.

The weight above moved, the newcomer grunting as they lifted Nik’s body up and away. Every fiber of your body screamed as you scrambled back, getting as far away as you could. Your hand touched something cold and smooth, instinctively closing around the slender handle. The knife had more weight than expected, heavy as you brought it up defensively. It was already coated with blood, making it a bit slippery to hold. It was Nik’s, you recognized, coated with your own blood.

“Easy does it lass. Dinnae ya’ to hurt yourself.”

The accent took you by surprise, like a bucket of cold water. Scottish if you had to assume, darting eyes focusing on the source just a few feet away. A man, still kneeling by Nik’s body. Blue eyes met yours, filled with their own wariness as they scanned your body. He moved to stand, pausing at the growl he received in response.

“Stay right there.” He froze at your tone, now half crouched, his lips parted to speak but silenced as another growl tore through you. It was like a cheesy cowboy movie, watching, waiting for the other to make a move. It would have been more tense if not for the crooked grin, shadowed with nervousness, that etched his features. The type that made others smile instinctively in response and passersby give a second glance, your own lips twitching in response. Kind and genuine, if not shadowed with concern, and would have helped put you at ease in any other situation.

Through the high walls the wind shifted, kicking up dust and bringing with it a new scent as it blew your hair every which way. An Alpha scent, strong and imposing. The smell of pine and mint, laced with a touch of anxiety. Good. You wanted him to be nervous, to have the upper hand.

“The government sent us. We’re here to help get you and the others.” He chanced slowly moving to stand, cautious as you watched with a sharp gaze. Regarding him with suspicion, you clenched the blade tighter, ready to take action in a moment's notice, unwilling to let your guard down.

If they were so intent on getting you back, why had they not paid the ransoms? Unless they had been set too high, but what would they look like if they let a group of Omegas be kept over money, especially when they were in high demand. Goods that couldn’t be replaced so easily. Not enough to pay ridiculous amounts, but what were the lives of a few soldiers? Where they could claim they tried but failed and have an excuse to only tighten the security on those that remained so it wouldn’t happen again.

“What do you know about the others?” He flinched back at the venom in your tone, eyes flicking to the knife in your hands, before landing on his own weapon. The voice in your head came back, roaring to make the first move before he got the chance, but even as you ached to move, either to get away or attack, you knew it would be of little result. Even now your hands trembled, the blade far from even as it pointed accusingly at the newcomer.

If it really came to it, he would have no issue taking you out. That much you were sure of. He wouldn’t even have to get close, the gun at his side a reminder of the imbalance and his proficiency with the weapon earlier. No doubt he would have it out and fired before you could take more than a few steps, let alone enough to get close enough to do any damage.

“Only that they’re safe. Heard it over comms.” He gestured to the radio on his vest. One of many tools that clung to his wide frame, the other pouches undoubtedly carrying weapons and tools he could use at a moment's notice. “Said there was one missin’ though.”

He slowly stepped forward, to which you mirrored the action in reverse, wincing as the fabric wrapped around your wound did little to protect it from the small stones littering the ground. Your mind raced, trying to reason with why you should even begin to trust him, but the mention of the others had set you on edge. If he knew then odds were they hadn’t gotten away, and your plan had failed. All that effort for nothing.

“I had to run. Had to get him away so that the others could get away.” Your voice wavered, assuring yourself more so than speaking to him. Even if the plan hadn’t worked it was your only option, right? Yes, you ran. You ran and were caught and then he-

Nik’s body lay still, not moving from where it had been tossed. A small puddle of viscous crimson gathered under, slowly spreading through the gravel below. He had done that, killed a man like it was nothing more than swatting away a fly, and now he was trying to get you to go with him.

“And you did a bang up job of it. Now just let me help you.” He takes another step forward and this time there’s nowhere to retreat as you’re backed into a corner. The cool metal of the container is the only thing keeping you grounded as it stops your escape.

The man approaches like one would a wounded animal, though you suppose he’s not far off as you’re ready to strike like one. He’s too close and you’re ready to bite, teeth aching to sink into flesh if only to rid yourself of the anxiety that clung like a second skin.

“Hey, look here.” He keeps one hand in the air, using the other to put the weapon in its holster, clicking the strap into place. “Don’t want any trouble. I can take you back to the others, get you all back home.”

Despite his actions, a flicker of doubt remains. He could be faking, knowing it would be easier to get close and subdue you. But then why would he have killed Nik? Were you going to be passed to yet another organization to use how they saw fit? He had mentioned the others though, which meant they were already with whoever he was. If you went with him then you could join them again, wherever that may be, and there would be another opportunity to escape.

Any conversation is paused as a high whine sounds, and it's with a start you realize that it's coming from you, or rather from the collar fit snugly around your neck, its presence forgotten until now. The man's expression mirrors your own, surprised at the sudden intrusion, before a click echoes between you. Just a moment of silence before it sounded again. Then another, and another, and another.

“You gotta be fucking with me.” The man growls, a string of curses following afterwards, some you know and many you don’t. Any pretence of patients quickly evaporates and he moves across the space with the ease of a predator, now seemingly unconcerned with the weapon you hold.

“We must ‘ave gotten out of range of the jammers.” He was close now, enough so that if he really wanted to he could grab you, force your bruised and battered body into submission. Instead he reaches out, eyes pleading as much as his words, dripping in desperation instead of irrefutable command. “Let me help you.”

It must be his eyes. Filled with a tender touch while holding a spark of sincerity in their icy tone. They remind you of Shay’s, the shades near identical, and how he would look the same way each time he comforted you, letting you know that the nightmare that was your life wouldn’t last forever as you sat huddled in the dark. The same Shay that you would give your life for. That you had intended to give your life for. Maybe that's why you hesitated, seeing the face of another, pulling away as your hands pried at the device, skin raw as it picked at the metal.

“It’s not safe.” Swallowing thickly, the words feel bitter as they admit the likely outcome of the situation. A stone in your stomach that sits unmoving. “What if it goes off and you’re still here?”

He only scoffs, a small snort that sounds almost like a laugh as his nose scrunches.

“Please. I’m the best demo expert in the unit. I’ll have it off in a jiff.”

He waited, watching as thought after thought ran through your mind like hounds after a rabbit, chasing it down endless tunnels and only receiving dead ends. Defeated, your hands dropped to the side, the knife clattering to the ground.

“You've got three minutes, then you're gone. Deal?”

He nodded, stepping closer with a sense of determination sparkling in his eyes.

“I'll have it off in two.”

His hands were cooler than you expected, brushing against your own heated skin as they reached for the device. He murmured out an apology when you jumped, taking extra care to avoid the scent gland located near the box containing a mass of wires. He worked silently, his face set in a line of grim determination while you were left to contemplate in silence.

Morality wasn’t something you had thought often about, never faced with the true prospect of death. It was the effect of being an Omega you suppose. They were hardly ever killed even when caught, their low numbers in recent years only furthering the sentiment that they should be kept as undamaged as possible. Even at the camp you had never truly feared death. Sure they would rough you up, starve you, beat you, but in the end you would come out of it alive if not worse for wear. Forced to continue floundering through life under the thumb of someone who thought it was their birthright. Even when you had been taken from there it was obvious that they took care not to kill any of the Omegas while the Alpha and Beta councilors were left to rot.

The kindness of living was so graciously and continuously extended to Omegas, but it always came at a cost.

That’s what made you question his actions. It was his job to find you, but it would be easy enough for him to step back, claiming there was nothing to be done. Nobody would blame him, even if they would be disappointed at the loss. There was still a chance you wouldn’t make it, the throbbing in your side from the stab only worsening. Between that and your foot it was a wonder you hadn’t bleed out yet, the adrenaline only doing enough to keep you standing.

“Why are you risking your life like this? You could just write me off as a lost cause and get your medal for helping with the others.”

Freezing blue eye flickered up to you briefly before going back to his work. His hands lightly tugged at the device, jerking your head to the side to give him better access to the now exposed wires. He was dangerously close to your scent gland as you watched him work from the corner of your eye, able to see little more than the mohawk he sported bobbing up and down. Each time his fingers brushed your skin had you flinching, receiving a muttered apology.

“Not looking for a medal.”

“A payout then?” You hummed. “I know the others had decent ransom prices on top of the ones they wanted from the government. I hate to break it to you but I don’t have a wealthy family. My vacation was strictly government funded.”

It had been something Nik had found great joy in holding over your head. The only one whose family hadn't responded, not that you expected them to. It had been years since talking, or even sending a message. Whoever did end up paying would have double the load, and while you didn’t know off the top of your head what the blackmarket price of Omegas was it must have been quite the payout. Though sentiment often carried a higher price tag than desire.

“Just doing my job, though gettin’ to see a pretty lass is always a perk. Besides,” he throws a look towards where Nik’s body lays, quickly growing cold. “I like to have my fun with mingin guys like that. Treating Omega like cargo. Should have taken my time but you didn't seem in the mood for it.”

You snort at his words, the absurdity of the situation comical when under other circumstances his comments would earn little more of a reaction from you than a wrinkled nose and scoff. The normal bravado Alphas and Betas liked to spout when they were trying to act like they gave a shit, but the venom in his tone holds your tongue, glad that his anger is not directed towards you. But oh how you liked to imagine what he could have done if Nik was forced to confront somebody his own size.

It's impossible to keep track of time so there's no way of truly knowing when his three minutes are up. Instead you pass the time and keep count of the steady rhythm of his breaths, timing your own along with him. He seems to know what he's doing. Either that or he's exceptionally good at faking it. For a moment, you allow yourself to hope that everything will be alright, that nothing else will go wrong and you can return back to your life as before. Go back to working a nine to five and coming home to your small apartment and fish, feeding the alley cats before you go to bed. Sitting at the cafes on weekends and silently watching the others that mill about, sipping on your own hot beverage and casually reading one book or another, maybe a few sketches if you’re feeling daring enough.

It’s nice to dream, head in the clouds and full of fantasy. Until the beeping increases, that is.

Your heartbeat picks up along with the intervals, eyes shooting to where the man is still working, though now his brows are scrunched together in frustration, his jaw set stiff. Despite not being an explosives expert and having no experience with the military or anything of the sort, you know the sound isn't good, having watched enough movies to know what it likely means.

“You need to leave now.” It's commendable the way you're able to speak with minimal shaking in your voice. An acceptance of what fate has in store for you, if not shadowed in fear. Your hands, trembling, reach for his own to pry them off his work, yet he only swats them away.

“I've almost got it. Just a bit longer.” You can see the way his eyes dart back and forth, taking in every component of the device as he assesses the best way to stop it. Maybe if there were a little more time it would have been possible but that seems the one thing you’re always running short on.

“We had a deal, now let me go. If I get to decide even one thing in my life it's how I die. I'm not going to take another down with me, no matter how annoying they are.”

His hand firmly grasps your arm as you try to pull away, ignoring the dig and stopping any attempts to move as he continues to work on the device. You pull harder but to no avail, temper flaring at his blatant disregard. Couldn't he see how stupid he was being? Could he not hear the timer, its cries slowly but steadily growing closer together?

“Will ya’-just-fuck! Hold still!” He moves to the ground, taking your body with him and pinning it under his weight with a practiced ease, legs resting on either side of your waist as he pins your hands. One hand firmly fixed on the upper half of your head, keeping it in place and teeth away from his skin, neck bent while he continues working against your struggles. He doesn’t even budge as you drive your knee into his side, apart from a light huff it's like he didn’t even notice. You can taste it now, the venom that leaks from the microscopic holes in your fangs in search of a target, eager to prove their evolutionary response. It tastes sweet despite its purpose, almost like the butterscotch candies that the school office receptionist always had sitting out, making your taste buds tingle as your body absorbs the liquid without issue.

The pain in your side does you no favors, each movement treated with a sharp stab of pain in response, as an invisible knife is being shoved back in with the smallest of movements. It makes you wish Nik were still alive, if only so you could thank him for the wound. He hadn’t been as heavy as the man above you now was, though he seemed considerate enough to not crush the air from your lungs with his weight.

The sharp countdown is nearly constant now, miniscule pauses between each shrill cry, screaming at anyone close enough with common sense to run. Something that the Alpha above you seems to lack. His collected facade from early is slipping with the sweat that beads across his skin, nose scrunched as he brings his knife closer to your neck, forcing you still or else risk it cutting into your flesh.

A light pressure before he jerks the blade back. It's little more than a snap, as if breaking a piece of string, but then follows silence. Nothing to fill the air but your own heavy breath and the scent of fear.

“Told you I could.” His lopsided grin returns, bravado peeking once again as he moves himself off you and to the side, weight finally gone. Taking a breather on the ground, he allows his head to tilt back, running a hand over his face as he shakily exhales, turning into a small chuckle. It's odd to hear such a sound, and for a moment you aren’t in the middle of nowhere with wounds and bruises covering every inch of skin as adrenaline wears off. Instead you’re back in the office, chatting with coworkers about weekends and complaining about the amount of emails sent out about not overusing the printer.

At this angle he’s almost a spitting image of Alpha who had trained you on your first day there. Rick. He was kind, excited to have an Omega working in the department as he lamented about how his own father had wanted to do the same thing but wasn’t allowed to due to his status. Rick had always been the one to make sure everything was going alright your first few weeks, making sure the others weren’t giving you trouble. He even introduced you to his own partner, a Beta who worked in Human Resources.

“If you have any issues just let one of us know. We’ll make sure everything gets sorted.” They had laughed, though from the glint in their eye you knew what force they held. The eye of a storm, ready to bring chaos at a moment's notice.

They had been the ones to vouch for you at the court hearing. Arguing that your actions weren’t unprovoked and the number of reports filed by HR proved it. All thrown out over a rumor from another department from someone you had never even met. That was all the Judge and jury needed to hear to make their decision. Fourteen months in a retrainment camp dedicated to helping Omegas overcome their unusual tendencies.

The sounds of fighting from before have stopped, the distant cracks of gunfire silenced. Only a few dark clouds floating up to join the quickly graying sky, and your mind wanders back to the others. What had happened to them in all the fighting when the plan went sideways? You watch, still unsure of the Alpha sitting next to you. The blood loss is tugging at the back of your mind and a part of you wonders about the dangers of bleeding out. The nick had roughly glanced through your side, Nik’s anger throwing off his aim enough to avoid a direct fatality, but it still slowly sapped away your resolve.

“Now, let's get you home.”

His words are lighthearted, yet it only works to sour your mood, thinking of what’s going to happen to you now that the pressure of capture was lifted ever so slightly.

What is going to happen to you?

The courts would decide most likely. With no assigned Alpha and disowned from your own family pack, any responsibility they had towards you scrubbed clean the moment your parents signed the papers, you were technically a wandering Omega. Something the law handled with the utmost restrictions. Of course they would find another way to try and force you into place, especially with that stubborn old Beta in charge of your case. A real family values man, who saw your lifestyle as an affront to family values. No doubt he would be foaming at the mouth once you were given back, ready to assign an Alpha or Beta caretaker that would never sign off on your papers. This entire event would be the backbone of his case to prove you needed someone to look out for you no matter how much your own lawyer tried to fight it. Even if the camp was the reason they were able to do so, the jury wouldn’t see it that way. At least not enough of them to make a difference in the outcome.

The man’s brows furrow, body stiffening as he scents the air, picking up on your displeasure. A soft rumble escapes, an attempt to sooth which only makes you angry. You didn’t want to be comforted like some pup who had a nightmare. You wanted freedom. True freedom. Not just to be handed back to another to have your leash tightened.

A faint crunching of movement makes your ears twitch, head whipping around to the source, your companion surprised by the sudden movement.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just-”

He’s cut off as you tackle him to the ground, nearly knocking your heads together, confusion evident as your body barely covers his. A slicing pain, sharper than any blade, cuts through your side just above where Nik had stabbed you, sharply inhaling as a new pain joins the cacophony of others.

The man had come around the corner without warning, the sunlight reflecting off the metal of his gun more of a warning than anything and leaving only a mere fraction of a second to react. It was stupid, and later you would give yourself all sorts of reasons on why you did it. That you were still in the strict mindset of self sacrifice from helping the others, or how he reminded you of Rick. Even just the fact that he had saved you and there was no way that you were going to be owing a debt to an Alpha. Whatever the reason it was enough to move your aching limbs, taking the shot as he recovered from his own confusion. Hands moved faster than you would have thought possible, the response quick in drawing his own weapon and firing a round of shots as a short cry sounded, followed by the thump of a body hitting the ground. The second one in less than ten minutes.

The attacker was dead, you were sure. If only you had enough energy to confirm the fact. Instead every muscle decided it was done, all giving out a once like a puppet with its strings cut, body slumping over as the large hands grabbed you, the only thing keeping you in even a semblance of upright.

“Fuck. A right foolish one is what you are?”

You wanted to answer, to snap back at him, but even speaking felt too much. As if a giant wad of cotton was stuffed in your mouth, its soft fibers threading into your brain and dulling the nerves alight with pain. It was admittedly a relief, though not a good sign when your limbs also began to lose feeling, numbness creeping up from your fingers.

Quickly flipping around, you were on your back once again. Frantic hands yanked your shirt up, inspecting the twin wounds now decorating your side. Instead of having the life forced out of you, it was instead being held in with enough pressure it felt as if your ribs would break. Fumbling, the man reached into one of the many pockets on his waist, producing a starch white wad of fabric which he pressed to your side.

“I need a medic at the Northwest corner just off the loading dock. Gunshot and stab wound to the abdomen.” He speaks into the radio, the red coating his hands and leaving a residue on the device as it drops back against his shoulder, returning once again to apply pressure to the wounds.

“‘S alright. I’ll get you patched up in no time.” Despite his even tone, the scent of anxiety betrays him, sobering in the reality of the situation.

Sure, the chances of dying were high. You knew that when you had volunteered to play this part. At that point you had almost expected it, either to be shot in the back or your head turned to mist by the collar that now lay uselessly on the ground. Something messy, but quick. Enough so that you wouldn’t have much time to realize what had happened. But now all you could do was lay there, drenched in the scent of panic as the Alpha above tried to do what he could for the wound. His voice was low and rumbling as he kept cycling between keeping watch for any more stragglers, head on a near constant swivel, and checking your wound.

“It’s alright. You’re strong. I can see it in your eyes.” His shifts, grabbing more gaze from his pack and tossing the now soaked ones to the side. Too quickly. It shouldn’t have been that fast to soak through, which meant you were losing blood fast. Even if he wouldn’t tell you, the way everything was slowly fading out was evidence enough. A part of you was terrified, clawing at any shredded hopes of survival. The other didn’t have enough to care. Too tired to do little more than stare at the sky above.

What was the point in fighting? There was nothing to go back to, nobody waiting to welcome you back with open arms apart from Rick and his partner. Work wouldn’t let you back in and it would be difficult to convince any judge to sign off and let you become a part of their pack with your history together, likely viewing them as a bad influence. No doubt your roommates had already found somebody to fill your spot in the apartment and who knows what they had done with your things.

The clouds looked soft, lazily making their ebay across the blue expanse, but the dark tone they carried along with the smell of rain on the wind told of the storm coming. You grimaced at the thought, remembering all the times you had been left to the mercy of the elements as rain soaked to the bone while wind howled in laughter at your predicament. It was impossible to have one thing go right, even when you were dying.

The distant crack of thunder made you jump, mind now flushed with a new set of worries. Ones that didn’t have to do with your impending display of mortality.

Shay. Shay was afraid of storms. What would he be feeling right now? Surely he would be scared, nervously picking at the skin of his knuckles as he always did, scratching away until they bleed.

A soft wheeze escaped your lungs, lips moving in desperation to produce a coherent sound around the knot in your stomach.

“Save the energy. Medics are almost here.” It was practically crooned, and you may have been more impressed with the skill normally used by Omegas in any other circumstance. Speaking into his radio once again, his voice was urging the other end to hurry as his fingers dug painfully into the wound.

You blinked slowly, deliberate, ridding your mind of the fog that crept in. Even if you weren’t going to make it out of here. You had to let them know. The thought of Shay being even more scared, your de facto leader who had yet to break, finally crumbling under the pressure, was enough to muster the last of your energy to cough out the words.

“S..hay.” The man leaned closer, breath fanning your skin as his head tilted, listening. His eyes were quizzical even as his hands moved to keep pressure.

“Scared…of…s…storms.”

He pulled back, jaw set and his gaze searching your own as he put the broken sentence together.

“Your friend. They’re scared of the storm.” You nodded, so slight he may have missed it as his head tilted up to the clouds. The first few drops broke, falling heavy and wet against your skin, mixing with the tears that had gathered. One drop, placed by the heavens themselves in its trajectory, fell right into the corner of your eye, breaking the surface tension of the salty tears gathered there and allowing them to flow freely.

A hand, calloused and rough, smelling of iron, gently brushed away the streak before it could reach your hairline.

“Aye. I’ll make sure they’re alright.” His palm gently cupped your jaw, fingers tracing just above the scent gland, as if tempted to try and sooth you by covering the area. “I’ll make sure they’re all taken care of.”

It was like a weight taken off your shoulders, able to breathe freely for the first time in recent memory. It wasn’t the worst way to go, you decided, the sound of multiple footsteps quickly approaching dulled by the realization. It was soft in its own way as the pain began to fade, replaced by a fuzzy, almost giddy feeling that chased away the fear.

The others would be fine. They would be able to go back home. Maybe this would be enough for those who sent them here to realize their mistake, that they should have held on a little tighter, appreciated them more. Now there was nothing left to do but rest. Yeah, that sounded nice.To ease the aching in every fiber of your being that had haunted you for as long as you could remember, starting before any of the mess you currently found yourself in. To allow the bliss of unconsciousness take over, even as the activity around you picks up once again. It didn't matter anymore. Not even as voices rang out, yelling and making you flinch at the thundering volume, and you felt multiple pairs of hands touching you, blurred figures appearing against the backdrop of the darkening sky.

Yet through it all, one voice still managed to cut through.

“Don’t give up on me now, lass.”

__________________________________________

Military hospitals were awful. Not as much so as the normal ones, but still bad enough. The smell was stifling in its sterility, their efforts to keep everything as neutral as possible for everyone who visited. Clearly they hadn't been accustomed to housing omegas as you had an entire room to yourself. The other beds remained empty no matter how much you wished for them to be filled. Months of constantly being around the others to now suddenly be so alone was like being dunked in ice water. The only upside was that you were easily able to take the blankets from each of the other beds and pile them onto your own. Their combined weight did little to help and often left you sweating when you woke in the middle of the night.

Company was far and few between apart from the nurses and doctors that came in and out to check your vitals and deliver foods and meds. Alphas and Betas, all of them. Though that shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise given you’re still on a military base. A part of you still wished to see the others, not having been given the opportunity to see them after the whole ordeal had ended.

It had been disorienting when you had first awoken, not having expected to in the first place. It was like waking up the morning after a night of heavy drinking, except magnified by 100. You could hardly remember what had happened, let alone understand where you were now. Trying to get out of bed had only resulted in falling to the floor, taking a number of machines with you as their tubbing was still connected to every available inch of skin. The noise had been enough to draw the attention of the nurse outside, who's quick to reprimand you as she helped you back into bed and fetched the doctor.

Lucky, they told you. That's what you were. Lucky to be alive after all the blood you had lost. Lucky that neither the bullet nor the blade had done more damage. Lucky that the medics had been able to get to you so quickly, and that the man who found you had been at least competent in his first aid.

What a stupid word.

If you were lucky, none of this would ever happened.You wouldn't have been shot or stabbed. Kidnapped and dragged away against your will from one place to another. Your case would have been seen as self-defense instead of an attack. If you were truly lucky you would never have presented as an Omega. You would be out living your life to the fullest instead of stuck in here with the smell of disinfectant burning your nose while two suits stood stiffly at the end of your bed.

“We've managed to sort things out with the others,” The shorter beta spoke, Rifling through her suitcase as she pulled out a file. Quickly flipping through the papers with a practiced ease, her eyes skimmed the information. “It seems you have more of a…..special case.”

That was one way to put it. The other leaned over, brow rising as he read over the information quickly, eyes darting to you and back.

“It says here that you have no registered pack mates. No Beta or Alpha as an overseer. Absolutely nothing in the form of connections.” The tone is almost accusatory. Of course you wanted to snap at them. You would have pack mates if you had been allowed to sign on with Rick and his spouse. Something they had offered to do to help you get around a lot of the red tape. But since they themselves had only registered as a pack a few weeks before you had to wait the allotted time frame to add another. Before that could happen, the incident at work occurred, and the courts were in no rush to approve the papers after that.

“Pretty concerning given the situation. We can’t just let you go back like nothing happened. The courts are concerned about your mental state, and your previous rehabilitation period can hardly be considered as fulfilled.”

Fire pooled in your stomach, burning with words to shoot back at the two even as you held your tongue.Though that also could have just been the rather sorry lunch you had been served earlier.

“Yeah yeah.” You wave your hand, nearly hitting the taller Beta in doing so as you tried to ignore the way your sore throat protested at the even tone. No amount of tea and honey was going to help it heal any faster, but a far cry from the few choking words you had managed when you first woke “I know the deal. Just send me back to another camp and I can finish out my time.”

No matter how unfair it was, there was little to be done but finish your time and try to keep them from finding any more excuses to keep you for longer.

“Actually, “ The woman places a folder on your lap, flipping it open to reveal a pamphlet stack on top of a few papers.

Guiding Hands Institute: Helping Omegas since 1904

The font was thin and elegant, contrasting the smiling faces of what you assumed were Omegas, people in lab coats and uniforms standing behind them. Each one with a firm grip on the person in front as they smiled, too bright, the action not quite reaching their eyes.

“We think an institute would be a much better fit for you. Something more hands on. They show great success in their work.” She flips it open, showing more of the information inside.Information and statistics on those who went on to find a pack afterwards, how many months it took for patients to find a mate and build their perfect lives. Reviews covered an entire section, raving about how nice the place was, how it helped them to see all the things wrong in their lives and work to correct them.

The man had taken over now, his voice blurring into background noise as you stared at the words. Of any possibility, this was the worst. You knew what institutions were. Every Omega did. And every Omega, yourself included, had nightmares about ending up in places like that. Programs reserved for the truly ‘hopeless’ Omegas. When you went to places like this, they killed you in every way that mattered just to create a new version from the ashes.

It was like a hand had fixed itself around your lungs, squeezing every last ounce of hair from them with ease. Everything started swimming, colors and shapes blurring together as tears gathered but refused to fall. The two Betas seemed to finally realize your distress, flanking you on each side as their scents reached out in an attempt to soothe. But there was no soothing you now, not when your worst fears, what you had nightmares about for weeks when your case first went to hearing, were now coming true. The fate once escaped now coming back, efforts to escape futile. There's nothing to be done as you begin to hyperventilate, hands gently grabbing at your shoulders, forcing you back to lay down against the flat pillow of the bed. The heart rate monitor was going wild and it was a wonder that none of the nurses had come in yet, though they might have already been warned about this by the two caseworkers who likely had seen the reaction coming. Yet even now you fought against their touch, shaking away their hands and gentle tones like a dog shaking of water.

You were alone once again, with no friends to help you this time. Nobody to lean on or vent your fears to. Completely, utterly, alone.

“What the hell is going on here?”

A voice cut through the chaos, the authority it carried making you all pause. It was deep and gravelly, layered with a comaniding finality and confidence. Distinct in only the way an Alpha could be.

In he stepped, dressed in the same clothes you had seen others wearing in the halls. Not medical personnel but instead one of the many military occupants, the same shift and pants combination made out of scratchy looking material, as if they were attempting to make an army of clones. His gaze was just as cutting his voice, fixing upon where you still lay with the two Betas crowding in on either side of the bed. Like a needle it pinned you in place as he examined the scene. Nobody dared to move even as he steps further into the room. Only when he focused on the taller Beta did the man speak, head tilting in question as his words came stuttering out under the wordless interrogation.

“Sir, we’re taking care of some official business regarding the transportation of this Omega. It would be best if-”

“I don't think you can decide what's best here.” The newcomer cut him off, brow raising in warning as the man went to start to speak once more. “Not when you’re causing so much obvious distress and setting everyone on edge. Not very good for recovery I reckon.”

Stepping to the side and leaving a clear path back to the door, he gestured for the two to leave with a sweep of his arm.

“I've got some business with them. Official military business, on a military base, and I don't enjoy my plans being interrupted. So I suggest you leave and give us some space to talk.” Despite his words it was obvious it wasn't a suggestion, the tone carrying a finality that wouldn't be questioned, if the person it was addressed to valued their life.

The two quickly packed up their things skirting around the man as they left the room. He shut the door behind them, clicking the lock into place before turning back to where you sat.

“Never liked the suits much. They get a bit too uppity for my taste. Seems you don't like them too much either.”

You eyed him with suspicion, having not seen him before now, but it seemed he already knew who you were. He casually made his way across the room, posture relaxed as he moved to settle at the end of the bed, leaning one hand out to rest on the railing and placing the rest of his weight on the limb. A picture of ease and confidence, even as the burn of scent blockers drifted within reach. Considerate at the very least to not be canvassing the area in his scent.

“What do you want?” It was accusatory despite the whispery tone, though you didn't intend for it to be anything else. That was the best way to deal with men like this, you had learned. Forward. Direct. He didn't seem to take it as too insulting, the only sign that the words had gotten to him was a slight twitch of his lips.

“Name’s John Price. You don't know me but you know one of my men. Johnny.”

Price watched carefully, as if expecting you to react to the words, yet both names remain unknown in your memories. You didn't make it a point to hang out with those in the military, having limited interactions with them. This was the most you had ever had to deal with them and it was enough to last a lifetime.

“I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking about.” You finally admitted, unable to come up with another answer. The man only hummed as he crossed his arms over his chest, shifting on his feet.

“I guess there wasn't a whole lot of time for introductions. The man who found you, do you remember him?"

Of course you can. It was the first thing you had thought of upon waking, the last face you had seen before what you had assumed would be your end. The nurses didn’t know who you were talking about when you asked and he hadn't appeared again, so you simply brushed the concern away. There were bigger things to worry about than an unknown man who would most likely never see again.

“The stubborn Alpha with the mohawk.” Your description, while intended as nothing but accurate, manages to get a laugh out of John.

“The one and only. Good to see he left an impression.”

“Hard for him not to." The air felt lighter as you spoke, as if he radiated a calming aura, bringing you down from your earlier high of anxiousness and taking away the element of the unknown. “Not when I had to fight him tooth and nail to try and get him to leave. He wouldn't give up.”

“I'd expect nothing else from him. Once he gets something in his mind he can be quite difficult to dissuade. That’s why I'm here.”

Your head tilted in confusion, wondering how you're run in with the other led to this meeting. Slowly he walked around to the side of the bed, the proximity now allowing you to get a better sense of his scent. It was sharp yet warm, the bite of cloves and cinnamon attacking your nose. Under it laid the sentence of smoke, though it was evident that it wasn't part of his natural scent. Most likely a smoker if you had to guess, going off the outline of the lighter you could see in his pocket.

“They wouldn't let him in here, procedure with you being an unclaimed Omega and all, though I managed to pull a few strings, but he wanted to make sure that you knew your friends were all right. They were sent back to their families without issue. Said you were pretty torn up about their safety even when they were hauling you off.”

The news should have brought you joy, every other staff member refusing to answer any questions about them, and it did, but also the earlier embers of anger. They got to go back to their families, even if those families had been the ones to send them to the camp in the first place, but chances were they were able to wiggle their way out of being sent back again. But not you. No, instead you were being forced into a much worse situation. You shouldn't be angry at them, none of this was their fault, but a portion of you did resent them. Resent the fact that you were still forced to continue suffering in such a way.

“ I see.” keeping your tone light, you managed a smile. "Thank you for letting me know. I'm glad things turned out well.”

Your mind turned back to Johnny, remembering the concern that had etched his face as your own vision had faded out.

“The Alpha who found me, is he all right? I don't really remember much of what happened at the end.”

John nodded, his eyes flickering down to your waist where an abundance of bandages still wrapped around the wounds. After the first few days and accidentally ripping open the stitches multiple times from your own stubbornness of wanting to get out of bed, they had stopped bleeding as much. Now they were able to stay a pristine white between dressing changes, though that didn't stop the aching pain that seemed to constantly radiate from the wounds.

“He's all right, thanks to you it seems. One hell of a person to take a bullet for someone they just met, even if it was reckless.”

John eyed you with a new intensity, one that made your face burn. Quickly ducking your head and focusing on the blanket, your fingers nervously picking at the threads. Compliments weren't something you were used to, especially about you. It was far more common for criticisms to arise citing your ‘unnatural’ tendencies as an Omega. You didn't miss the way he hadn't worded it, calling you a person instead of Omega. almost as if he saw you as something other than your designation. As somebody who could potentially be equal with him.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, drawing your attention back.

“I owe you a favor for keeping my man safe. If you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask.”

The intention, well well- meaning, was almost laughable. What could you possibly ask for from him? Especially when you were being shipped off to an institution now and the odds that you would ever see anybody from the past few months again was zero. Instead they would work until you were broken down. Institutes didn't let people go until they decided they were ready to be let go, regardless of how long the court orders stated your rehabilitation was for. It would take a miracle to stop it now. Nothing short of an official courtship or claiming where the power of decision would be passed to whoever signs the papers as your legal guardian.

Rick hadn't been able to do it before and there was no way to get a message to him in time. It's not like you had a long list of Alphas that you could call on, and even fewer who would pass the screening of requirements needed with the record that followed you. It would have to be somebody who's proven capable, that they believed would be able to properly handle an aggressive Omega.

Someone they thought was capable enough but that you could also trust not abuse their newfound power over you, having legal control of nearly every aspect of your life. Who you could stay with and leave without issue, a clean cut.

“Actually, " you turned to John, tone even as you spoke, a plan quickly forming in your head. " There is one thing you could do."

He nodded, shoulder squared back, ready to fill any request asked of him, and you had no question but he would do so.

“I want to talk to Johnny.”

Chapter Text

“Ya’ want me to do what?”

Shushing him, you glance over towards the door, ears perked to make sure nobody was listening in. This would all fall through if word got out, though you still had to convince the centerpiece of it all who was currently looking at you as if you had asked him to rob a bank.

It seemed Price was good on his word, Soap dropping by two days later after your request to meet with him. No longer was he covered head to toe in tactical gear and smelling of metal and smoke, but that didn’t make him seem any smaller as his presence engulfed the room. He still cut quite the imposing figure as he waited in the doorway the nurses had led him to, eyes lighting up when they met yours. Gone was the stress and anxiety that came with combat, and no longer burdened by an actively bleeding wound as crimson covered you both, it was the first time to properly take him in.

Johnny, as he introduced himself, seemed more chipper than the last time you met. His eyes were just as bright, still cutting in the way they looked around the room while scanning every inch and corner of the plain white walls. It could very well be out of habit of constantly looking for attackers or just a result of the relentless energy that seemed to course through him. He didn't stay still for a moment, always rocking on his heels or shifting from one foot to the other as his fingers fiddled among themselves. His nails were shorter than most Alphas, but longer than any Beta or Omega would be allowed to have theirs if they didn’t want a fine. A perk of his job you suppose, still remembering how they had dug into your own flesh as he had held you down, keeping you still as he worked on the explosive. It would have been all too easy for them to tear through muscle like nothing, and no doubt he had done so before to those unlucky enough to cross his path. The pointers were shortened just a touch more than the others, likely to allow him to shoot easier, faster.

In contrast his fangs were longer than the norm, a whole inch against the normal three fourths most others had. Unfiled and sharp as steak knives as they peaked from between his lips, in full view thanks to the perpetual grin he wore as you thanked him. He waved off the words, simply claiming it was all part of the job with an air of ease, even when it was evident he didn’t have this happen very much thanks to his excitement he carried. His chest was puffed, making him even bigger than normal as he preened at the praise.

The scent of pine hangs brightly in the air, as if you were in a forest instead of this dreary hospital room. It's a nice change, chasing away the scent of disinfectant of pain that lingered in the sterile environment, even if it did remind you of your time back at the camp. It was bittersweet, the scent associated with your time there but also that of when you would be curled up with the others, whispering stories of the constellations that hung above. It made you ache to see them again even if your meeting wasn’t under the best of circumstances, his scent bringing back the memories. Addicting in its own dangerous way.

He was the same Alpha from before, of that you had no doubts. But here, outside the threat you had first met under, he seemed almost like a different person. His shoulders were loose, relaxed as he glanced around the room. The tension in his face was replaced with a soft ease, the rough edges from before smoothed out in the warm ocher sunlight that filtered through the window highlighting skin no longer covered in smudges of dirt and blood. His hands are clean, any evidence of your blood that had adorn them washed away long ago undoubtedly with the same scentless soap you used here, only your own memory staining their appearance. The scent of iron hung like a spector, though it could very well be leaking in through the vents from the rooms on either side. The shouts and screams came often enough, followed by the pounding of footsteps outside as they raced to whichever room had arisen in commotion.

It was like a pair of twins, almost identical in every physical aspect but enough to tell you something was different. Uncanny in a way. Which part of him was the true Johnny? The one that won out and took control. Was it the confident and ruthless soldier from before, or the relaxed man perched on the edge of the windowsill, observing the flowers one of the nurses had brought in to liven things up.

He seemed harmless now, but you knew firsthand how easy it would be for him to overpower you. How that easy smile and gentle touch could turn into something diametrically opposing. Even now he was different, keeping a respectable distance between you as opposed to the way his weight had pinned you down in your last meeting.

The memory had you hesitating, wondering if this was really your best option. Certainly not the least humiliating. You had spent the past two days thinking about it, running through scenarios and hypothetical futures for each decision made and word spoken all accumulating into one giant imaginary flowchart that made your head spin, and this was the only way you could think to get out of the situation besides running away and living out your days off the grid.Even then you may not find peace.

That easy going demeanor Johnny once held had shifted the second you made your proposition, freezing in place as he stared like you had gone mad. Not like he was too far off, but there wasn’t much of a choice. A long shot was all you had and even if the odds weren’t great it was worth a try. At least you could say an attempt had been made before they dragged you off.

“I know it’s a big ask, but I need you to pretend to be interested in being my mate. At least officially courting me as far as the courts are concerned.” The words rolled out easily enough despite the quick clip, having practiced them dozens of times before now in preparation for any reaction he gave, countless arguments stacked away in preparation.

He stepped back as if the words had slapped him, leaning against the side of your bed while you resisted the urge to snap at him for getting his scent all over the sheets. The blankets were uncomfortable enough without the scent of a near stranger on them. Countless hours had been spent convincing the nurses to let you amass the pile that you could now burrow into to hide away from the outside world. Each corner and edge tucked just how you liked it, the hard work messed as his hand ruffled the fabric.

It wasn’t the time to pick small fights though, especially when you needed his cooperation.

“Listen lass, I know I am devilishly handsome, but I’m sure this is just a phase that you’ll get over.” His tone was soft, easy, even kind as he let you down, yet you persisted, intent on letting him see the truth of the matter.

“I’m not interested in actually mating.” His head tilted in question, lips pursed into a tight line. He speaks slowly, as if trying to break down some complex concept to a child.

“I don’t think ya’ know courting is.”

You don’t answer, instead nodding to the file on your bed, watching as he cautiously opened it with your silent permission, revealing your paperwork and the pamphlet for the institution. Scanning through the contents, the lines of his face only deepened with each page turn.

“They aren’t sending me back so I can just go on living my merry life. We were all at a rehabilitation camp when we were taken. Apparently being a hostage isn’t good enough to waive the time and they’re intent on making sure it's completed. Except this time they think I’m even more messed up and need special care. Institute care.”

The words come tumbling out, too fast for the carefully composed front put up, betraying the panic you tried to keep squashed inside. Johnny's eyes flash between you and the words in the folder, the gears in his head grinding as he takes in every detail.

It’s silent as he flicks through, only the occasional sound of paper turning as he peels through the information, brow raising when he gets to the case charges. They’re not a very flattering light for anyone to be painted in, and your cheeks burn in embarrassment. The memory wasn’t a good one even if you had only done what was best at the time. There wasn’t a week that went by where you didn’t think about what you could have done differently in order to avoid everything that had happened.

Instead of saying anything he turns his attention to the brochure clipped to the front, weighing the paper in his hands as he reads the cover.

“This place don’t look too bad.”

You snort, eyeing the soft colors and rounded letters of the pamphlet, a filter to the cold truth of what they depicted.

“Might be what’s best for ya’. Not exactly easy what you’ve been through.”

Everything about him is disarming, from the way he talks to the soft warmth of his gaze. Even his posture is intentionally softened to something more unassuming with his shoulders rounded forward, or at least the best he can to be so. Just like the case workers trying to fool you with soft words and vague assurances. Instead of eased it only made your temper flare, tired of others trying to tell you what was best. But there is no trickery in his words, only the same concern that you would find in the eyes of Rick every time you assured him you were fine without a collar when walking home, or Shay when you first volunteered to be the distraction in your semi-successful escape plan.

Of course he would think that. Even if it was with the best intentions he remains oblivious to your own concerns. An Alpha who's never had to worry about being carted away, not had stories told to him all his life about how awful these places were. How Omegas came out as little more than shells of their former selves, nearly carbon copies of one another that lacked any spark of their previous selves. Just as traumatizing as any kidnap and ransoming, essentially the same thing but able to skate by with the consent of the law and upheld traditions.

“You don’t understand what it's like. What those places do to Omegas.” It’s impossible to keep the waver from your voice, your only chance of getting out of this moving further and further away. Like a bad dream where no matter how much you run the end only gets further away. It didn’t help that the remnants of your tousle with Nik still remained, bruises lighter yet not fully healed, still sore when you spoke.“If I get sent there, you should have just left me to die in that shipyard. It would have been better than this.”

Johnny’s posture stiffins, paper crinkling in his hands as your distress permeates the air and no doubt sets him on edge as his nose twitches. Some might consider it a nasty trick, using base instincts to try and get him to do what you want, but you weren’t even trying, unable to stop even if you wanted to. You meant every word, and the prospect of what might happen was distressing enough on its own.

“Please. It doesn’t have to be for long. Just until I finish out the time the courts assigned. I’ll sign any document you want. If you want money I have some saved up in accounts you’ll have control over if you agree.” It’s embarrassing, the way you’re nearly begging this Alpha for help, and the prideful part of you hates it yet logic tells you it's the best course of action. Vulnerability was not something you were familiar with, itching like a second coat begging to be thrown off despite the way your emotions lay bare. You want to hide. To curl up in your nest and forget about the world outside, but that same stupid world has forced your hand into action, dragging you through the mud and forcing you to stand or drown as it has so many times before.

Soap glanced back at the documents before crossing the room, placing his hands on your shoulders as he looked you in the eye. It was a traditional intimidation tactic, but no way were you going to back down. Blue eyes pierced your own, electrifying in a new way, as if peering into the very depths of your soul and taking hold.

“Be honest with me; What landed you in that camp?” His brows furrow, head tilting in question and you have no doubt those blue eyes can see right through any lie you can even think to conjure. “ An assault case is not something every Omega has on their record.”

It’s a valid concern, though not one you were hoping he would bring up. In asking him this favor he deserves the right to know what happened at the very least. To know who he’ll be living with. The case workers would tell him even if you didn’t just so he would know what he was getting into. Not many liked to take on a problem project, as they like to call you. It’s a struggle to recount the events, having shoved them as far back into your mind as possible, yet always lingering under the surface of thought, every detail sharp as when it happened.

“An Alpha I worked with wouldn’t leave my friend alone even after she rejected him. We tried to report him both at work and to the police, but they never did anything about it, even when he was following her home.” Each report had been filed away, HR having a thick binder to record each and every encounter reported at your own insistence. All of it accumulated to nothing, waved off with the promise that they would look into it only for a short email to be sent out about remembering to keep the comfort of other employees in mind. The police were no different, hardly even bothering to take down the statement before letting you know there was nothing to be done, much to your friend’s distress. She had sobbed enough to leave your shirt a new color, crying until she was too tired to and hardly having enough energy to eat as you soothed her, promising that you would make sure nothing happened. And you kept that promise.

“One day he broke a window, forced his way in and tried to mark her thinking she was alone. He didn’t know that I was staying with her.” Johnny’s hands tightened at your words, a sharp inhale as you explained. It wasn’t the most uncommon thing for Alphas and Betas to try and do to Omegas, knowing the courts would rule in their favor in many cases citing it as acting on ‘base instincts’, and not the Alpha’s fault, forcing the pair through couples counseling to try and figure things out. Still it was seen as a lesser way to obtain a mate, unable to properly court and woo them, but still legally binding all the same.

Unfortunately your own reaction to being attacked hadn’t been considered in the same way.

Defending your friend when a guy breaks through the window wasn’t a normal way to react apparently. While you had been scrutinized every which way he had only received a few mandatory therapy sessions for a year and a few weeks in an in-patients facility. Once he recovered, that is.

“They wanted to take my fangs after what I did to him, but of course that would affect any future mating prospects.” Unconsciously, your tongue runs over your teeth, gently prodding at the canines to assure that they’re still there as they ache at the memory. It had been quite the debate, and only thanks to a moving testimony from your lawyer had you managed to fully keep them. “Omegas numbers aren’t exactly booming at the moment, and they didn’t want to ruin a fully grown one. Instead they sent me to the camp with the others to learn how to ‘control my anger’ and become a productive member of society.”

Johnny stays silent, searching your face for any hint of a lie, a fraction of dishonesty to pounce on, but finds none. Only a silent plea, a single look more convincing than any number of hours spent talking.

“You won’t bite me?” He asks, equal parts serious and teasing as his eyes flick to your mouth in assessment of the small fangs. A smile tugs at your lips, begging to show off the offending weapons and barely held back.

“Are you planning on breaking through a window?” You challenge.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, making an even bigger mess of the mohawk than before, the tufts sticking out in every direction to match the thrumming energy of the room. Turning, he begins to pace, energy from before returning as his mind works overtime. It’s the same path you had walked yourself many times by now, down the aisle between the beds to the door, then back to the window and repeat. It's a wonder there wasn’t a hole in the floor by this point even if the scuff marks told their own story. It only takes two rotations for him to come to a halt.

“Why me?” He questions. “Doesn’t sound like you’re too fond of Alphas, and you don’t even know me.”

He’s right. It's important to keep a healthy amount of distrust for anyone, especially cocky Alphas and Betas, but now is not the time for that. From the moment you met him there was an air he carried. A trustful one, not led by your base instincts as an Omega, but the ones carefully cultivated over time of quickly assessing who was and wasn’t trouble. There weren’t many things in this world to trust, but your gut had yet to steer you wrong.

“Because I have a feeling that you’re not a complete jerk, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned to rely upon it's my intuition.” As he walked past you stopped him, placing a hand on his arm before the pacing made you feel any more dizzy. “You made sure I knew about my friends, that they were safe, and refused to leave me even when I was scared and you probably were too. You didn’t have to do that. It would be well within reason to wash your hands of the encounter and move on yet you didn’t. I think that lets me know that I can trust you at least a bit.”

He seems to perk up at your words. A good sign, if any, as he steps back to collect his jacket from where it had been tossed over the chair. He pulls at a few loose threads, pausing at the doorway before turning back.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Really?” You perk up at his words, stomach flopping in excitement as your scent evens out from a bitter anxiety to a sweet excitement.

He nods, holding up his hand before you can get too carried away.

“I can’t make any promises. There’s a few people I gotta talk to first.”

It’s not a definite yes, but you can’t help but grow excited, following him to the door as he leaves. Grabbing a pen from the chart clipped to the end of the bed, you rip a piece of paper towel from the holder and quickly scribble down a few numbers and names.

“They’re going to be sending me back at the end of the week when I’m healed enough for travel. You’ll need to contact my case workers before then.”

He tucks the contacts into his pocket, giving you one last nod before leaving.

Once he’s gone it’s like the weight that had been crushing you for weeks has lifted just the smallest amount, leaving you feeling almost light headed at the fraction of relief as you collapse on the bed. It's not a definite solution, but a step forward in the right direction. Everything is out of your hands for now, only able to wait to hear back an answer from Johnny.

Turning over, you catch a whiff of pine and remember how he had sat on the fabric earlier. It’s lighter than you thought it would be, more so an accent to your own scent rather than covering it. A part of you still wants to rid the threads of every trace of it but it seems too tremendous of a task now, especially when you feel so tired and don’t want to risk getting the scent on your own glands when marking them. Instead you let it be, soothed off to sleep with the memories of your friends all huddled close together, pillows piled high around you in a poor imitation of their own bodies and lacking the comforting warmth.

How long has it been since you were able to properly nest? To feel completely at ease in a fortress of your own comfort. The nurses hadn’t been able to do much when you had asked for more blankets and pillows, unprepared to care for an Omega when their patients were Alphas and Betas from the base. As much as you liked to pretend it didn’t bother you that much, it still left a deep ache in your chest, wanting a simple slice of comfort after so long without.

Sleep wouldn’t come easily, it never did ever since the incident as countless worries and nightmares kept you awake, but you would have to make due. It was almost too easy to slip into its numbing embrace this time, something you would give the radiant warmth of the sun credit for, even as you dreamed of pine forest and laying out under the stars.

___________________________________________________________

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

Johnny may be impulsive on a lot of things, charging into situations without thinking and earning more than one scolding from the others, but this really took the top spot. He hardly even knew you and he had promised to help you trick not one but two governments into thinking that he was courting you. Not only that, but he had to convince the rest of the pack that it was a good idea as well, and he knew one person in particular who would fight the idea tooth and nail. Even if he was the only one you were claiming as a mate on paper, the rest had to agree with it or else you would all just be miserable the entire time. On top of it all there wasn’t a whole lot of time to even do so, feeling more pressure than the time sensitive missions he often found himself on.

He could have said no, should have said no, but the way you looked at him, eyes wide and full of trepidation, nearly broke his heart. Every inch of the room was drenched in fear and he could pick up the way your hands shook even as you held them tightly clasped together. Your voice wavered from more than the bruises still lining your throat like the grip of a ghost.

This wasn’t the Omega he saw before. The one who let themselves take the role of doomed bait to let the others get away, knowing there would be a high chance of getting caught and killed. Who he saw for the first time fighting off an Alpha nearly twice their size with a look of defiance and burning rage even as they were deprived of air, earlier struggles evident by the blood already staining the both of you as your nails, blunt as they were, dug into skin like a vice.

An Omega that had tried to get him to leave for his own safety knowing it would doom their own. How with the last of your strength you begged him to ensure the health and safety of the others even after he assured you they were alright.

Johnny was a damn good judge in character and yours, albeit stubborn, was right as any other. It would eat at him constantly if he did nothing about it, or at least didn’t try.

‘Bloody hell.’ He groaned to himself already prepping for the battle ahead. One that he was severely under trained for.

There’s a temptation to ease them into it, to find the right way to bring up the conversation naturally, but things just keep getting in the way. Someone was always in one mood or another, or off dealing with something else preventing him from addressing the topic at the same time. A clock that was quickly counting down and he had nothing to show for it, not even a peep spoken to the others about the possibility.

Each time he tried to bring it up to them alone it was like he was choking, throat tight and unable to speak. With two days left he still hasn’t found a way to bring it up. Each time he fails to do so his mind flashes back to you, practically shaking and teary eyed, looking at him like he was your last hope.

So, as they’re all winding down from afternoon drills, he simply blurts the question, or rather statement.

“We need to take in an Omega.”

Three heads all snapped in sequence to look at him, varying states of confusion written in their faces as owlish eyes stared back. It was out of the blue, blurted with a blunt candor that left them stunned even in comparison to his normal brash words.

“Is this about that Omega from the last mission? Is that why she wanted to talk to you?” John was the first to speak up, quickly connecting the dots as his eyes scrunched in thought. They had all heard the tale of the stubborn Omega who took a bullet, the tales recounted by Johnny himself after they had met back up after the initial chaos had died down, having to answer questions on why he was covered in so much blood that reeked of your designation. He was quickly followed by Kyle, his own brow raised.

“One conversation is all she needed to have you wrapped around her finger? I expected more from you. Not even the three of us are enough?” Though his tone was light it carried its own concern at the sudden proclamation. Something that was quickly drowned out by the scent of fury radiating off the third member of their group.

Simon’s scent, normally a distinct petrichor often like that of the rainy London weather, was now more akin to snorting jet fuel, Johnny coughing on the thick way it layered the air. The shirt Simon had just rid himself of was clenched tightly, knuckles white as long nails ripped into the fabric leaving holes that would render the garment useless. He knew he would react badly, but this was a bit much right off the bat.

“It’s not like that! Just hear me out.” Johnny was quick to try and sooth the tension, hands raised defensively as a light rumble escaped him. He watched as the others sat, Simon leaning against the wall, eyes still narrowed behind his mask like lasers primed and ready to fire while they waited for an explanation.

The thrumming tension was somehow worse, Johnny desperately looking for the right words to break the silence in a way that wouldn’t have them in another immediate uproar. Clearing his throat, the carefully composed script in his head escaped his reach, leaving him grasping on the tailends of arguments he had spent the week putting together.

Latching on to the most important fact, he attempted to dispel their primary protest.

“They don’t want me to be their actual mate, just pretend.”

“Pretend?” Kyle questioned, obviously not convinced. To be fair, it did sound like a cliche plot to a romance novel with a cheesy cover that occasionally popped up in the barracks, even if nobody would claim them. Instead it turned into communal property and acted out on Friday nights with dramatic readings that had most of the group in laughter. Unfortunately this was a very real situation that Johnny had gotten himself into.

“Aye’. Got some court officials breathing down ‘er neck about something that happened before. Attacked an Alpha for getting handsy. Now they still gotta serve the time but they want to send them to an institution, whatever that means.” Johnny’s hands scratched at his neck, the prick of his nails helping to take away some of the tension that crawled under the skin.

The mood of the room shifted, attention now on Kyle as he let out a chuff of surprise. While the others were a bit more out of touch, as the only Beta of the group Kyle had heard whispers of what went on in institutes from a few Omegas, mainly other family members who were quite vocal in their displeasures about the places each time they were mentioned. Not places anyone liked to go despite how they boasted their benefits. All lies, or so he had been told. The only people who benefited from them were the people who weren’t sent there. It made his suspicion turn a bit more sympathetic even if he wasn’t fully convinced. But the opening was enough for Johnny, sinking into the vulnerability and focusing in on the chance before it could escape.

“Should ‘ave seen her. Downright terrified the poor lass was. Looked like she was gonna pass out at any second.”

“When I dropped by before there were a few suits in the room. Obviously not with good news from the smell of it. They didn’t seem concerned until I got there.” John nodded, recounting his own run in with you. Brief, but impactful enough to leave a lasting impression. Despite your battered state there was a fire still burning in your eyes. One that didn’t seem to be easily containable even as the two Betas had tried to overwhelm with their presence. “Doesn't seem like much the type to ask for help if they can avoid it.”

Johnny nodded, gripping the ounce of leverage. They were talking about it at the very least instead of downright dismissing the idea. He could work with that, watching as the cold front slowly melted in a softer understanding.

“Promised she wouldn’t be much trouble. I’d be like having another roommate. If we take her on then we'd get better housing too. One of the nice big on base ones reserved for packs with Omegas.”

Kyle perked at his words, already able to picture the accommodations. Many of them even had a nice big living room. Much more comfortable to relax in than the rec room shared by the others who lived on base in the barracks, with couches that could fit all of them at once. Plus, they’d have their own laundry room. No more worrying about having others stealing his clothing or dumping half dried clothes onto the table in a rush to get their own done. It would at least help release the tension on their days off, not having to worry about quite so much.

“As long as you and John trust her, I’m in. It would be good to have another non-alpha around to deal with you lot.” Kyle sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

Johnny turned his attention to John, knowing that the Beta’s approval would sway his own decision. The captain seemed to be contemplating the idea, hand absentmindedly rubbing at the hair along his jaw.

“C’mon sir. You know they always give the best beds to Omega households for their nest. No more back aches when you’re sleeping on a bed of clouds.”

John is silent, no doubt thinking back to the lumpy mattress he sleeps on now. Each time he’s complained but never bothered to replace it, too busy or tired to do so and seeming like more trouble than it was worth whenever he wasn’t faced with the poking springs. The chair in his office had almost become his primary bed at this point, leaving him with neck pain instead of back aches, which were only slightly better.

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he fixed Johnny with a stern look, slipping into his de facto role of pack leader and captain. His words were stern, a warning.

“Alright, as long as you’re sure they know what they’re getting into. I don’t want the pack getting set off balance just because of one person. And,” John leaned on Kyle’s shoulder, the Beta responding in kind by subtly bringing his nose to the scent gland on his wrist to show his silent support. “They have to pull their weight. We’re not here to coddle them, even if they are an Omega. There’s a reason we don’t have one. As long as they understand that and agree to some basic house rules, my vote is yes.”

That was two. Now just for the biggest challenge who had yet to say a word as they all turn to the only remaining vote.

His answer was simple, a stubborn finality in his tone as he glared at the three across from him.

“No.”

“Oh, Don’t be like that!” Johnny whined like a pup being scolded, and Simon felt like he was dealing with one. A stubborn thing that wouldn’t give up the new toy it had sunk its teeth into.

“I don’t like this idea. Omegas aren’t built for this life. Too soft, and they get attached easily. And why does it ‘ave to be you?” Simon growls, arms crossed.

In all their time together, none of the men had ever seen Simon engage with an Omega outside of what was strictly necessary despite the way many eyed him up. He was nearly perfect for an Alpha, but just a touch too intimidating for any to approach. Not that they would have gotten far. He had everything he needed in his pack, finding comfort in their routine. A routine he didn’t like encroached upon.

“I’m the only one who has a history with ‘er. Spinning the whole love at first sight thing. Some of the newbies get hitched just as quick ya’ know. Besides, the higher-ups are always on our backs about taking an Omega into the pack. All those brochures they send and seminars they make us sit through.”

The mention nearly makes them all groan, remembering how they were forced to wake up early on the weekends to attend the informational session about the Progressive Pack Program, or 3P as they called it. Hours of videos of smiling actors and behavioral specialists claiming how beneficial it was for the larger packs that tended to populate the base to take an Omega. All words and numbers that went over the heads of those gathered, who watched with dead eyes and blank minds. Didn’t even provide snacks.

Simon was a particular victim of theirs, always singled out no matter how many he scared away, two more seemed to take their place to push all kinds of pamphlets and case files filled with Omega profiles in his face.

“They know a good Alpha when they see one.” Kyle often teased.

“Then they should bother John. He’s the pack leader after all.”

“Nah, Captain’s too old. Wouldn’t be able to handle an Omega with those joints of his.” The comment had earned him a smack upside the head, banished to sleep outside the nest for a week before Kyle was able to make it up to him, earning a few new bruises of his own.

“No more waking up on weekends to attend, and the reps ‘ll stop bugging us every time we go to the gym.” It was tempting, but not enough to get Simon to change his mind. Not even close. He’d rather spend hours blankly watching as many presentations as needed than even one with an Omega whining for attention.

“We can’t even get a pet with our jobs, what makes you think a whole other person will be a good idea?”

“They can feed themselves, even have their own money to pay for things. Aren’t expecting anything but providing a cover for them and maybe some polite conversation if we’re feeling up to it.” He clasped Simon’s hands in his own, pressing the rough skin to his lips, the warmth sending shivers down his spine. “Can’t just leave ‘er Simon. It wouldn’t be right. You didn’t see how scared she was.” He whined to his mate, eyes wide and begging.

“C’mon Alpha, I know you got a heart under there.” Johnny’s tone was teasing, heavy with implication, knowing just how the larger man felt about the title. A dangerous game.

“If not for ‘er, than me? Your stunning mate?”

Simon was a tough Alpha. He’d seen many things both in and out of the military that had hardened his heart with towering walls. He had to with the things he saw if he didn’t want to break. But this, his packmate looking so soft and pleading before him, the others watching with just as eager eyes, was enough to worm its way into the cracks of his defense. Besides, John’s comment from earlier stuck with him, and if two of the four were concerned he was obligated to at least hear them out. He didn’t like the idea of having an Omega around. Despised it even. But he was weak for Johnny, caving to his wants more often than not.

Groaning, Simon was already plotting all the way he was going to make Johnny make it up to him later.

“Don’t expect me to be taking care of no whining Omega. Not scenting any nest or when we go out, and they ain’t allowed in ours. Not a single toe, or I’ll throw them out myself.” He finally growls.

Johnny tackles him, eagerly pressing his nose into the glands along his neck, scenting the larger man as low rumbles sound from his chest. Pulling back, his smile was like the sun as he beamed down at Simon, the laters face heating under his mask.

“I knew you’d come around.” He placed a kiss on the bridge of his nose, nearly cracking his own in the process of his excitement. Despite his apparent annoyance, Simon didn’t push Johnny away, instead opting to roll his eyes at the antics. “I wouldn’t worry about the bonnie. Think she’d bite your hand off if you tried to scent ‘er.”

The comment raised questioning looks from the others, to which Johnny simply shrugged. They had all felt the sting of Omega venom before, part of basic training in order for them to at least know what it was like. Even in low doses it had been painful, not even fresh and accompanied with the additional sting of teeth digging into flesh. In Johnny’s mind it was a non-issue. He knew his pack, and while they may step on each other's heels at times they knew when to back off and leave each other to their peace.

“Just don’t touch ‘er in a way she doesn’t like. Hands off kind of thing.”

Kyle scoffed, poking at Johnny’s ribs with the toe of his boot. “You sure you can do that?”

They all knew how touchy the excitable Alpha could be, though it would be a bit humorous to see him feel the sting of a true Omega bite for the first time instead of a diluted form.

Johnny only waved him off, unconcerned. You were smart, he was sure of that. Despite the sharp look you held, cutting and cold as it was, he was sure you wouldn’t turn it on him for no reason. Too smart to bite the hand that scratches your back. You’re doing each other a favor after all. You get to stay out of whatever place they wanted to stick you in while he and his pack got a bit more comfortable living conditions and a bit of a pay increase.

Pulling out his phone and folded up paper, he typed in the number of the case workers you had given him. From the corner of his eye he saw John walk towards the direction of his office, no doubt to type out a letter to command informing them of the new addition to their pack and request housing. He smiled, already imagining the look on your face when he told you.

__________________________________________

The week came and went, yet still not a word from Johnny. The Alpha hadn’t appeared or sent word once, and as the days ticked down it only made you grow more nervous. He had seemed receptive when you had talked to him, though he made no promises. He would at least tell you if he decided against it, right? Or could he not face you with the rejection, relying on his silence as an answer. In truth it might have been just as concerning if he had accepted quickly, too eager to help out and would have raised a number of red flags in your own mind.

What made matters worse was how your case workers were late now as well, scheduled to show up two days prior and now leaving you in a state of unknown, pondering any and everything that could be going on to keep them all away.

The abnormality of it all put you on edge, pacing the halls so much that the nurses had threatened to sedate you to keep you from riling up the other patients. Thankfully they hadn’t, the head nurse finding a better way to channel the energy, though you had suspicions that she simply felt bad after catching you walking aimlessly through the halls one sleepless night.

Now you were trailing behind the nurse you had been passed off to at the shift change, the Beta all too happy to have you along with them as they visited patients. Since this was a military hospital there weren’t really any Omega’s, but plenty of Alphas and Betas in pain and in sour moods as they recovered from wounds received both in and out of combat. It was a bit demeaning, to have you carted around like a therapy dog on a leash to help calm down the other patients and make them more compliant for blood draws and checkups, but at least it kept your mind off things, and you found yourself interested in the many tasks of the nurses. They seemed to have taken a liking to you as well, relaxing after a few days as they became used to your presence, accepting you wouldn’t go running the first time one of the patients snapped at you.

Maybe in another life you would have joined them, the profession being one of the very few that Omegas were allowed to join, though not without difficulty of getting into the programs themselves. They made great labor and delivery nurses from what you heard. It was still one of the easiest professions to get into even if the military hadn’t widely adapted the use of them in their own facilities yet. Maybe you being here would make them rethink it, or at least how this base hired their staff.

So, with determination, you did your best to help out, grabbing whatever was needed and making light conversation with the patients, holding their hands as they were pricked with needles. For men and women who were thrown into active war zones, it seemed a bit silly how scared they were of a small needle when they had much more grievous wounds littering their bodies.

Some were quiet, silently clasping your hand as the doctors and nurses moved about them, wrist pressed to their nose and silently taking a moment of comfort. It made you feel better to be able to help them, even if some of the others were still rather obnoxious in their comments. Touchy hands were quickly swatted away, much to the amusement of the nurses as you met each lewd comment with a sharp repl of your own.

It was in the middle of helping them hold down a rather stubborn woman that you were called away, the charge nurse peeking her head in to inform you of visitors waiting in your room. With how busy you had kept, feeding your mind with everything you could to preoccupy it to the point you had almost deluded yourself into thinking this could be a permanent thing, the reality of what was actually going on came crashing down like a ton of bricks. The trek back felt like miles as you turned down the blank halls leading back, nose flared and mouth ajar to pick up the slightest scent of who would be waiting, seeing if they had left any trace behind in the hall. The shining linoleum gave no answers, only reflecting the harsh white lights above, dull and scratched from the countless feet and wheels that had traversed them.

Was it Johnny, finally back after talking with whoever he needed to? If so you would make sure to at least passively mention his late arrival. Of course the military might take longer to organize things, so maybe it was his chain of command that was having issues with him taking on an Omega. Whatever the case they had made you wait long enough.

However, when you made it back, your heart sank as you pushed the door open to find the two case workers waiting. Their faces were masks of practiced neutrality, calm but unfeeling smiles plastered on their faces.

“They told us you were helping the nurses out. Good to see you’ve started putting more care towards others. Your file indicates you’re quite the loner.” The woman stayed standing as you approached, cautious. Her smile widened, if only a bit. No doubt they could smell your fear. “I know you haven’t been very excited about the situation, but a better future is there, you just have to be open to it. Approach things with a more open mind.”

Her eyes flicked to the brochure that still sat atop the folder on your nightstand, and your heart sank. This was it. They were coming to take you away, staying away just long enough to give you hope before ripping it away. Her partner moved, walking towards you with a blank indifference. Before, his size had seemed odd. Large figures didn’t often put people at ease, but now it was obvious he wasn’t there for his talking skills.

A defiant spark, hot and jumping, sprung in your chest. No. You weren’t going to let them take you like this. If you were going, then it wouldn’t be quiet. They would have to sedate you if they wanted to get you out of here without at least a few cuts and bruises. Make them think twice about not removing your fangs.

Bracing, you prepared for a fight, fist tightening and teeth grinding, ready to sink into flesh. Yet as he approached, he continued right on by, going around your rigid form and back to the door leading to the hall, leaving you confused.

Were they leaving? Was he going to just pull the car around so they had to travel a shorter distance with your thrashing body?

As he opened the door and stepped aside, the scent of pine hardly had a chance to hit you seconds before another person stepped in, boots thumping heavily across the floor and their figure little more than a blur as they quickly crossed the room. Your feet left the ground as the air was chased from your lungs, unable to do anything but shout in surprise and cling to the form you found yourself pressed against in hope you wouldn’t drop.

“Ah lass! It’s so good to see you again!” The Scottish accent, paired with the scent, gave away the identity of the force you were currently being crushed by. Struggling to get your bearings, you pulled back to a face that had your knees weak with relief, now glad that he clung to you so tightly.

Johnny. He came back, the realization sending a tingle through your nerves. They weren’t going to take you away. Not with him here.

The tears that gathered in your eyes weren’t fake, nor was the way you clung to him as the spinning slowed to a stop. A small whimper escaped you, burying your face into his shoulder as you tried to ground yourself once again. He only laughed, running a hand through your hair as he purred, comforting you as if you were lifelong friends. It was embarrassing to have so much emotion upon seeing a man you’ve met twice, but you’d allow this moment of weakness. After months of having to keep everything in it felt almost like a relief to allow yourself to be held up by someone else, the nightmares of the Institution blocked out by his overwhelming presence.

A stunning acting job from you both, at least your two guests seemed to think so, watching on with a look of satisfaction. A tender moment between two people starting a courtship as far as they were concerned.

“Seems you do have some Omega charm after all.” The agent observed, pulling out a stack of paper from their case, settling at the table by the window. Pens were arranged neatly next to each pile, ready to finish off the process with a few signatures. “Of course there are still some technicalities to take care of, but they should be rather quick to process even being an overseas affair. The courts were rather…excited, when they heard about your courting intention.”

Of course they were. To go from a problem case to courting a ‘traditional’ appearing Alpha must have had the prosecutor stroking his own ego, convinced even more that he knew what was best for wayward Omegas. Pulling away, you slightly stumbled and a bit dizzy as he set you down, both headed to where the others sat, Johnny only dropping your hand once you sat down in favor of picking up a pen and combing through the papers, signing wherever directed.

It was quick. Irritatingly so. A few signatures and clarifications of what expectations were. There were only a few things for you to sign while Johnny had his signature jotted down no less than fifteen times. As if he were the one signing over his rights to another.

Still riding the high of now knowing you wouldn’t be sent to the institute you allowed it to pass, spending the time instead observing as Johnny listened to the two with rapt attention, only sparring you a few glances, his smile reassuring each time.

Medical decisions, assets, potential property. All of it was now under his control. Even your bank account had been wired over, accessible from a card handed over with a few other documents.

They seemed to be getting a bit frustrated as you read over every paragraph, insistent on knowing everything you were agreeing to. Not that there was much of a choice, but having an idea of what you would be working with was best especially when it came time to cut things off. Their rushing words and hands that tried to cover different sections only stopped when Johnny spoke up, encouraging you to take your time. He was far from finishing his own stack even as they helpfully told him the details of each document unlike your own.

An hour later and you were done, now legally bound together as each applied their own signatures to the documents as witnesses.

“I think the compatibility is obvious, but if at any time you are not happy with your match please let us know.” Passing over another folder, this one was thicker, a small label with your full name printed in the corner. A small horseshoe shape was stamped just before it, a signifier of your status. Dark and bold, the black ink is at least two font sizes larger than the rest.

Always an Omega first.

“This should be all the basic information, but if there are any questions feel free to contact us and we’ll send any further documentation that we have.”

They stood, collecting their things and reaching over the table to shake Johnny’s hand, now content to ignore your presence in favor of your newly appointed guardian. He only gave them a polite smile, wordlessly nodding as they talked.

Leading them to the door, goodbyes were swift as Johnny shut the door behind them with a restrained care, abruptly cutting off the tail end of their conversation. Huffing, exhaustion weighed his shoulders as he leaned back against the door, head titled as he listened to the footsteps outside. Content that they were gone after a few beats of silence, the air of the room shifted, relaxing as he broke the silence, face cracking into the contagious smile you were quickly learning to associate with him.

His nose wrinkled as he spoke. “Thought they’d never leave. Creepy bastards.”

“How do you think I feel? They’re like grim reapers. Must have their souls sucked out when they sign on for the job.”

You both laugh, taking a moment to appreciate the eased tension before the full reality of everything comes barreling back like a train.

“You definitely owe me one.” He grabbed at his hand, flexing his fingers as the joint let out a few soft pops under his firm pressure. “Haven’t written tha’ much since secondary school.”

Rolling your eyes, you watched as he grabbed a duffle bag that had been tossed aside when he first entered. Tossing it your way, you barely managed to catch the canvas material in time as he nodded towards your small collection of items.

“Pack your things. Nurses told me you were all clear to head out and I’m sure you don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Packing everything up is a quick job, mostly consisting of things that had come from the storage locker of the camp from before, returned to you just after you had woken up. Mostly clothes, a few personal items. It seems kind of sad, especially as Johnny easily takes it from you, tossing it over his shoulder like it was nothing despite your protest. You were still injured after all, the wounds still twinging when you managed to move the wrong way.

The nurses were a bit sad to see you go, or that's you chose to see it, stopping by your room to wish you luck while eyeing Johnny up with suspicion each time they did. Activity in the area seemed to increase, never a moment left alone with the revolving door of visitors. No doubt they were curious about the Alpha that had supposedly caught the eye of the Omega they had gotten to know in your short time here.

The shining floors squeak under your feet, two steps ahead of Johnny as the front entrance grew closer. Energy thrummed with each step, the moving world beyond like a forbidden eden, now within reach.

There was no sun today, but it wasn’t enough to dampen the occasion. The air itself was enough, free from the oppressing cloud that seemed to hang over the entire hospital like a bad omen. They weren’t keen on letting you out since you had been flagged as a flight risk and had your shoes confiscated, only able to walk the rather small garden area they had, so it was the first time in weeks you had been outside.

Taking in a deep breath, the last of the shadows of worry were chased off. Johnny allowed you the moment, instead continuing ahead to a black Jeep parked not far off. Tossing your bag into the back, he leaned against the passenger door patiently as you approached. Despite the worries you had shed, new ones quickly wormed into their place as you eyed the vehicle that would take you to your new home for the foreseeable future.

Feet stuttering, you nearly trip.

A brief thought runs through your mind. What would he do if you tried to run? Was he worried that you might, even if he appeared relaxed? But with all the paperwork filed away they would just return you to him when they found you.

You were confident in your judgment that Johnny wasn’t the worst person you could be forced into this situation with, but that didn’t mean he was perfect.

Trying not to appear too hesitant in your approach, he opens the door for you to climb in, having to give a small jump to get into the car before the door shuts behind you, trapping you inside. Rounding the front of the vehicle, he opens the door and easily jumps in, sending a small shake through the frame as he bounces in his seat.

“Well,” Shoving the key into the ignition, the vehicle roars to life, slapping a hand on his thigh as you buckle into the seat next to him. “Seems like we’re stuck with each other for the next ten months.”

“Seems like it.” Nodding, you struggled to pick through the scents of the car.

Undoubtedly it was his from the sweatshirts and a few energy drinks tossed in the back, but a tangle of others clung to the fabric of the seats. Not surprising, but enough to pique your interest with the intensity. Close friends at least, maybe even family. People who rode in here often enough to leave their distinct scent etched into the threads.

A few different Alphas, but one distinct Beta scent cut through them all. Citrusy, like you had stepped into an orchard in full bloom. Your eye caught sight of a pair of shoes that had been tossed in the back, looking too large to be Johnny’s. Maybe they just looked big from where you were sitting? It felt a bit awkward to just turn around and dig through the back even under the pretense of looking for your own things.

The vehicle shifted gears, prompting you to face forward in favor of being caught snooping. Whatever was in the back of the car, short of a dead body, wasn’t your concern even if the amount of empty energy drink and protein bars was enough to raise questions about his eating habits. At least now his relentless energy made more sense.

Johnny seemed none the wiser, briefly checking his mirrors before giving you a quick glance.

“Hold on.” You hardly had time to ask ‘to what’ before you were off, shooting through the parking lot like you were trying to escape. Not too far off, but as Johnny took a particularly tight turn you couldn’t help but grab onto the handle just above the door, grateful you had the seat belt to keep your head from slammed into the window.

Your companion had no concerns, taking another tight corner as the cans in the back rattled about in a cacophony of shouts, almost as if they were encouraging the driver in his reckless maneuvers.

Hopefully wherever you were going was close.

Chapter Text

“Nice furniture at least.” Kyle pants as he pushes the couch across the room, doing his best not to scratch the floor. Just a few feet away John is doing the same thing to a chair.

The furniture had all come with the house, covered in plastic when they had first arrived that morning. Everything was covered in a thin film of decenter, completely erasing any trace of the previous family that lived there.

“Yeah, the military likes to cater to packs with Omegas.” John huffs, wiping the seat from his brow, dropping into the chair now bathed in sunlight. No doubt he would claim it for himself once they were settled.

“Reason that if they have nicer accommodations it’ll lead to an easier environment and more pups down the road. Alpha and Omega pairings have a higher chance of producing Alphas after all, and when they’re raised in the military are more likely to join when they get older.”

Kyle's face sours at the thought, glad they wouldn’t have to worry about it in their own pack. They had enough of their own issues, and bringing pups into the mix was just asking for trouble.

Joining John he squeezes himself into the chair, legs tossed over the side as they relax, both panting and warm from the exertion of moving furniture from room to room, up and down stairs. Johnny’s gone to pick up their newest addition, and Simon has busied himself upstairs leaving them alone.

Outside they could hear the sound of their neighbors flowing in through the open window. The shouts of parents and the rustling trees. A far cry from the constant thumping of boots and shouts of rowdy recruits as they found whatever they could to entertain themselves between rotations.
It was peaceful.

“You think this was the right thing to do?”

The question takes Kyle by surprise, watching as John stares off into space, mind no doubt racing with all the possibilities their new living situation brought. It was odd to see the confident Alpha questioning himself, though that may have been a bit of a strong word. More so pondering the thought.

Firm hands wrapped around his shoulder, gently bringing his mate closer, scenting the stubborn man as he spoke.

“Have a bit more faith in Johnny, yeah? You said it yourself, they needed our help.” Kyle’s thumb stroked his knuckles, humming while John’s body continued to slacken. He was practically putty by this point, equal parts thanks to the plush hold of the chair and his own touch. It was the first time in years they didn’t have to worry about others intruding on the space, only their own scents hanging in the air.

Soon enough there would be another.

“Enough slacking. I want a proper place to sleep tonight. That was the deal for all this.” Simon’s entrance was met with half-lidded glances, already tired from earlier and thinking about the work still ahead making them more exhausted.

With great difficulty they managed to get up, lumbering out of the room and getting to work on their nesting spot. Not a proper nest without an Omega, but still what they chose to call it. A space where they could all sleep together and relax after a rough day, basking in the presence of their pack when they didn’t want to stay in their own rooms across the hall, Simon and Johnny in one room with Kyle and John in the other. Space when they needed it, or a banishment from the others when they acted up.

“Johnny will be back soon, and I want everything in place.” Simon grumbled, grabbing the edge of the mattress and flipping it a few feet away like it was nothing. Pushing it with the others, he quickly tossed the blankets and sheets over top.

It was nice to have a space so big, just for themselves. Their own personal touches lingered in the room, the most filled of any space in the house thanks to them starting to move everything the day before. Everything else could wait in favor of a restful sleep.

It was almost criminal for the government to keep mattresses like this tucked away, airy layers of memory foam covered in silken sheets with thread counts that spanned four numbers found in every linen closet of the floor and reserved for the pack Omega housing, but that was the draw after all.

In any case, it was at their disposal now to do what they wanted with the numerous sheets, even setting aside a few for the Omega arriving soon. They were the reason they had access to it after all, so it was only fair. A step in the right direction to an easy cohabitation. Hopefully they had similar hopes of a peaceful existence.
______________________________

The neighborhood is surprisingly spacious, a decent amount of spacing between the houses. Much more than the ones you drove past earlier, which had been nearly stacked on top of one another with little more than a fence separating them. Not even tall enough to keep the neighbors from peaking into each other’s yards.

Thankfully Johnny’s driving had tempered down a bit in the residential area, going the speed limit for the first time and allowing you to finally release your grip on the door handle though they still remained firmly gripped together in front of you. The further you drive the more spaced out they grow, and they turn from single stories to two, the fences higher and yards bigger.

The clock on the dash passes around forty-five minutes before you reach your destination.

Pulling up to the house, it’s innocent enough, though that doesn’t mean it will stay that way. The worst secrets hide behind pristine paint jobs and shiny windows with curtains drawn.

Two stories, light gray siding framing white windows, with a door the same stark color as it stood ajar. There’s no garage, one car already parked in the driveway as you pull into the spot next to it. A moving truck sits just out front along the pavement, the back door open revealing the half empty interior still stacked with a number of boxes.

The sheer amount took you by surprise, not expecting so much from a military man. They were supposed to be tidy and all that stuff, right? Always moving around and sharing spaces with others. Where had he kept all this stuff before now?

The car jerks to a stop and Johnny is quick to climb out, staring at you through the window. Expectant.

The previously innocent building now seems daunting. This is where you’ll be spending the next ten months, stuck with a man you hardly even know but are now forced to rely upon. Hopefully he won’t be around too much, though with no previous experience with the military there was no way to know how often that would be.

In any case, it’s better than the Institute. Something you chant like a mantra as you hesitantly open the door, trying not to let it slam behind you. Johnny rounds the front of the car, hand heavy as he grabs your shoulder.

It’s not hard but still makes you jump at the contact, the constriction knocking the wind from your lungs. Frozen. Unable to move around the fear that grips you. Memories of rough, cold hands and bruises resurface like a diver from the dark depths, leaving you gasping all the same.

Johnny’s brows furrow for a moment, looking almost hurt, before a realization flashes. Understanding. You want to apologize, to assure him it's not his fault, but he simply turns, gesturing you to follow.

“Everything is being moved in now, but I can show you around and we can get you situated.”

Nodding, you trail him into the house, swallowing your nerves and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

Reaching the front steps, there’s dirt trialing through the doorway. He must have hired movers, judging from the open door and number of different footprints you spot in the mess, their prints crossing over each other like an abstract pattern. A series of scents swirl through the space in a similar fashion, telling of how long they had been there. You do your best to block them out even as they tickle the back of your mind, itching in a familiar way that has you puzzled.

Boxes are piled high in every corner, various states of empty as their contents cover the floor and tables in a sea of paper and wrappings. The inside is just as innocuous as exterior, a relatively open floor plan that allows you to see almost the entire first floor upon entry. All beige walls and hardwood floors, the ceiling a textured bone white.

The living room is just beyond the stoop, bleeding right into the kitchen to the left and beyond a set of couches is a large sliding glass door that leads to the back yard. To the left is a short hallway, and upon further investigation you discover it to be a decently sized bathroom and bedroom with an office across the hall. What comes as a surprise is the stairs, a set going both up and down revealing a basement.

“Most of the rooms are upstairs, so you don’t have to worry about sharing.” Johnny assures you, already heading up and taking the steps two at a time. The upstairs consists of one main hall that creaks as you walk, a few of what you assume are rooms and bathrooms lining the sides.

The further you get the more you can see and hear, voices floating from down the hall and making you pause. It must be the movers, you surmise as Johnny’s pace quickens towards the source as the sound of what you assume is furniture being set down thumps. With every intention to follow, your attention is caught by a flash of color, pausing mid step to peer through the crack.

Looking back down the hall Johnny has already disappeared, the voices growing loud at his appearance with a few choice words legible. He seemed to be doing well enough, and there was no reason for you to have to talk with them, right? It’s not your stuff being moved around. Besides, you weren’t in the mood to be meeting with new people, already looking forward to crashing in a bed that didn’t have thin blankets and a lumpy mattress.

The door is surprisingly heavy, taking more than a light shove to open, not even creaking as it reveals the room beyond.

Stepping inside, you’re surprised by the number of blankets decorating the area, scattered over a few mattresses pushed together on the floor, standing about a foot off the ground with some risers. The master bedroom if you had to guess by the size, a door on the side revealing a bathroom with, from where you stood peering in, what looked like a tub. It faced the backyard, large windows allowing in sunlight dappled from the tree just beyond.

It was nice, the best room is the house, and already claimed it seemed. The nest was rather impressive, if a bit large for one person. Odd that it was already set up when the rest of the house was still in such disarray. Johnny seemed the type to have a nest even without an Omega, a comfort for the kind Alpha who had a rough job, so it was no surprise even if it made you a bit miffed that he had already claimed spaces without asking. But that was his right as an Alpha, wasn’t it. To take what he wanted without thought.

Unmalicious, but annoying.

Fine. If he wanted the big room he could have it, as long as he was alright with sharing the tub, the only one you had seen so far. There were plenty of other rooms to choose from in the hall so there was bound to be at least one you liked. But along with the reassurance the oddity of it struck you.

Three floors. Multiple bathrooms and bedrooms. Even the kitchen had more chairs than anyone you had ever had over for dinner.

Why was there so much space?

There were only two of you, supposedly courting. One of the smaller houses you saw earlier would have been more than enough space, two bedrooms even generous. Maybe they had more money over here? He had mentioned something about specialty housing since you were an Omega on the way over. The military loved Alpha-Omega couples, a truth that seemed to follow no matter where you went. But even this seemed to be a bit extravagant. What if-

Your adrenaline spikes, flooding your system with hackles rising before you even know what’s happening. The previously serene scene now foreboding, unease settling in your bones as a chill erupts across your skin.

Fear wasn’t a new emotion to you, acting as a guiding force in your life and essential to your successful assumptions so far, hardly ever clouding instead of guiding. And right now it was screaming at you to run, so loud it drowned out every other sense, frozen in place. Prey already in the jaws of a predator. Never had it hit this quick, this unyielding as it ran away with any common sense.

There was no time to react as the crushing grip pulled you back, fingers laced so tight around your nape a soft pop escaped from under their grip. A small gasp escaped as you were torn out of the room, picked up like an unruly kitten, feet barely touching the ground before you were tossed back out into the hall. Bone met drywall as your skull bounced off the wall, sure to leave a dent in its place as pain left you paralyzed.

Hopefully you didn’t have to pay a security deposit for this place.

The hardwood floor is the only thing to catch you as you land in a heap, a small chirp of pain escaping as your still-sore body crumples on impact, wrist twisting at an odd angle trying to catch yourself. The blinding pain is nothing compared to the smell though. Sharp and burning, eyes watering as you cover your nose in an attempt to block it out. It carries the scent of crackling ozone, the promise of lightning that tears you apart with its brutal strike.

Still it persists like a rabid dog with its jaws locked, attacking your senses and leaving you vulnerable to the thundering footsteps that follow. It reminds you of the camp counselors, always upset about one thing or another, and their scents similarly so as they stomped around without a care in the world. As if they weren’t the ones enacting hell on their charges.

A figure, little more than a dark blur thanks to the tears that crowd your waterline and try to flush the burning scent away, stands like a sentry before you. Deep, rumbling growls cut the air, only sending you into even more of a panic as every fiber screams to get away. But as you attempt to scramble back your attacker moves in a flash, snatching both your wrists in one hand and twisting them behind your back in one deft movement, forcing your face to the floor in one easy flip as they pinned you.

“What the hell is going on here?”

A voice, vaguely familiar, shouts over the growls coming from the person behind you. A wheezing snarl is all you can manage, trying to squirm out of their grip but to no avail as blunted nails scratch any skin in reach. Their own sharper, longer, deadlier, dig back in response, threatening to pull a yelp held behind clenched teeth. As a last ditch effort you throw your heel back, managing to clip their side with a solid thud. It does nothing to move them, the only reaction being to increase the bone crushing pressure.

Fuck. It hurts. Not the kind of pain that gives a boost of rage induced strength but the type that erases any hope of triumph.

On the verge of snapping, the weight is lifted. In a flash you’re up, back to the wall as you spin to face your attacker.

Dark eyes meet your own, just as scathing even from his position under Johnny, who is currently holding him in a headlock. His chest heaves, huffing as he tries to escape the hold. Sandy hair sticks to pale skin, stuck with sweat thanks to the heat of the house and his current struggles. Despite the mask covering the lower half of his face you can clearly picture the snarl beneath, teeth barred like knives. Each time he moves to get out Johnny tightens his legs, muscle corded legs keeping his arms pinned to his sides as the two men struggle, grunting in a fight for control.

Movement draws your attention, eyes flicking up to meet two others that stand just beyond the tangle of limbs.

Price.

Owlish, you stare back at the man, not having expected to ever see him again after your last visit. He’s out of the military uniform, though that doesn't take away from his cutting figure, glaring down at the two men grappling on the floor. Despite the displeasure that carries in every inch of his posture he seems less intimidating than before thanks to the soft light coming in from the window just behind him, his hair out of place and face flushed.

His hands rest on his hips, elbow nearly knocking into the person next to him. An easy touch between the two already standing so close. A Beta, telling by the way his jaw is set. The extra set of canines they have on their lower jaws gives it a distinct shape.

Instead of watching the current MMA match he’s instead focused on you, brows furrowed as they scan your form, calculating. They’re sharp in their movements yet lack the predatory glint of the other. Focused but not scathing. They zero in on your side and he’s quick to move, stepping over the two on the floor and carefully making his way over to where you remained frozen.

“You’re hurt.” His voice is low and smooth with that subtle beta lithe, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the thudding struggles. It could be the potential concussion or the warmth he emits, but you can only stare back in confusion. He gestures to your side, careful to keep his hands in view. Hesitant you follow the gesture, trying not to puke at the movement. A dark stain can be seen blooming across the soft fabric, side pulsing as it grows along with the crimson petals. A new wave of nausea takes over, feeling sick as you huff.

“I thought it was healed enough.” He snorts, head shaking.

“We have some bandages around here somewhere. Stick around long enough and you’ll learn these guys are always hurting themselves.”

Posture stiffening, his words echo. What did he mean by stick around? You were courting Johnny. He was, should be, the only one you had to deal with. The only one you had mentally prepared yourself to deal with. Maybe they were just good friends. Price mentioned before that they were on a team, so maybe they just hung out a lot. Would that mean you had to constantly be on edge whenever he invited them around, or could they go to one of their places?

Before you can question it too much, Price is barking out orders, just as he had the first time you met him.

“Everyone, downstairs now!”

Johnny breaks away from his wrestling partner with a growl, quickly picking himself up off the ground with a huff and stomping over to where you stood. Despite the anger radiating off him, he’s gentle as he takes you by the arm, guiding you back downstairs and settling on the couch.

“Stay here.” Is all he says before going off towards a stack of boxes, digging through their contents as they clatter to the ground with growing intensity. A jumble of unfamiliar curses, or what you assume are, laid heavy by his accent.

You’re not alone for long, the brief shouting of voices from upstairs followed by muffled footsteps as they descend. First is the one who grabbed you, looking just as angry as he had while being pinned. His jaw is clenched so hard the veins of his neck stand out as he fixes you with a piercing glare. Leaning against the wall, he makes space for the others to enter as Johnny turns back around. A bottle of peroxide and a few adhesive bandages rest in his hands, taking you by surprise. There had never been more than a few small bandages for the occasional papercut in your own apartment, yet he seemed to find the supplies for your sizable healing wounds easy enough.

‘Stick around long enough and you’ll learn these guys are already hurting themselves.’

The words come back to you, making you wonder just how often they fought with each other in order to have such supplies on hand. Before he can sit down you snatch the supplies, quickly moving to stop the spread before it can bleed onto the couch. With the tension in the air, there’s no reason to cause another fight.

For a moment Johnny looks like he wants to argue, a trill of protest with lips parting in protest only to pause as you quickly begin tending to the wound yourself. Instead he takes a seat on the other side of the couch, silently watching as Price and the Beta filter in, taking residence in the remaining spots. The only place left is between you and Johnny, but from the way you’re being glared at like it could set you on fire, there’s not much worry that it’ll be occupied.

They’re silent as you work, the silent gathering watching as you dab at the wound with the peroxide. Chemicals burn from the soaked cotton as it bites at the open wound, latching on to the pain to avoid the awkward stares. The stitches had only just come out, healing prolonged by your malnourished state. Despite escaping your captors it seemed their influence reached out even now, continuing to make your life as difficult as possible for as long as they could. Weeks of healing and being the utmost careful not to reopen them, only to have it ruined by an Alpha with a bad attitude. He doesn’t have to say itl for you to know, the distinct scent and pure entitlement are more truthful than any words.

The first set of bandages goes on without issue, but as you try to reach around and apply them to your side the angle is just right to send a jolt of pain, making you jump and unable to suppress the small groan of frustration. The blond in the corner scoffs, earning a glare as a low growl rumbles in your throat. He hadn’t said a word. Didn’t need to for you to hate him.

“Here, let me help with that.” The Beta approaches, kneeling next to the couch and holding his hand out for the bandage. You eye the limb wearily, knowing it’ll be near impossible to wrap the bandages without help, and not without a whole lot of pain and woe. As embarrassing as it was to have to rely on yet another person for help, the prospect of continuing to struggle further in front of the four men was just as bad. Best to rip off the band aid, or in this case put it on.

He takes the bandages with a small smile, quickly inspecting the wound before soothing the adhesive cotton over and staunching the trickle of blood. His hands are soft, so light you can hardly feel them as they glide over the edges to make sure it's secure. This close, and no longer in a state of panic, you get a better look at him.

His eyes are a comforting brown, like the earth just after it rained. They hold a warmth like Johnny’s despite their tone being more akin to glare from before. He’s cute, in a rugged way, clearly younger than the others even if the light shadow along his jaw makes him look older. It wouldn’t be a surprise if you were the same age, maybe even younger. It was too easy to imagine him as a coworker or classmate, joining you on the way out of the building to discuss your weekend plans.

His skin is smooth, light lines barely visible marring the surface unlike the way they hang heavy on Price’s own face. His hair is cropped short. Everything about him is neat and tidy, giving him an air of competence. Not threatening but trustworthy. Dog tags peek from under his shirt, the gap allowing you to catch the words etched onto their silver surface.

Kyle Gerrick.

A name for a face, taking away a level of uncertainty around him.

This close, as he leans around you to check that everything is in place, his scent is inescapable. Nowhere near as strong as the Alphas that populate the room, but all the more reassuring in its subdued tone. It’s a small reassurance to have him here, far more comfortable than if it had just been you and the others and is the only thing ground you to keep from snapping. Sweet citrus tickles your senses, unintentionally taking a deeper whiff of the smell to drown out the others' competing presence. It’s strong but not overbearing, distinct enough to jog a memory from the back of your mind.

Kyle startles as you pull away, eyes snapping around the room to fully take in the objects that lay scattered about. Once so seemingly innocent, random even, no fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. One you didn’t like the picture of.

A number of jackets are tossed over chairs and on the rack, some folded while others lie in a crumpled heap. Running shoes remain piled by the door, all different sizes and styles. Open cabinets are filled with mugs and plates of every color, chipped from years of wear. Too many for one, even two people. All easy to overlook at first glance and nothing any normal person would give a second thought.

What’s not so easy to ignore is the picture frame, still in the box and now only visible as it sat by your feet, mocking your oblivious ignorance.

Four men standing in front of a helicopter, their weapons casually dangling at their sides while leaning on each other in a way that spoke of a comfortable familiarity. A dependence even. They look different than now, dressed in the heavy layers of military clothes and gadgets filling out their bulk, but it's easy to recognize them.

Johnny is the most recognizable as he beams back at the camera, Price’s face shaded by a fisherman hat against the heavy sun with a content pull bringing up the corner of his lips. Kyle is sandwiched between them, a baseball cap and sunglasses covering his face but not obscuring the easy smile he wears. On the other side of Johnny is a man obscured by a mask, a dull white skull covering the upper portion and contrasting the black fabric below. Maybe a bit funny looking on any other, like a highschooler trying to seem dark and mysterious, but his demeanor helped sell the look into something truly threatening. The mask makes his eyes look far too sunken in giving him a ghoulish gaze, the only thing you could see.

While it's impossible to compare his face it isn’t a far jump to assume it is the figure currently standing across the room, still seething as the scent of his anger pollutes the air. A far cry from the relaxed postures he takes in the photo, easily leaning on the others, an arm thrown around their shoulders possessively. It's closer, more intimate than any would get with their teammates. The way their hands rested on each other, head tilted and bodies turned as if to soak up as much of each other’s presence as possible.

Risking another look into the box there’s stacks of other photos peeking out from beneath carefully placed packing paper. Each depicts them in different situations, from blazing deserts to a rocky looking boat, but all telling the same story.

They were close. Very close.

“What are you doing?” Kyle jumps, pulling back as you yank the fabric of his collar away from his neck as the threads stretch and shout in protest at the treatment. His hands catch yours, firm and strong, but you’ve already seen enough. A slight scarring on his shoulder, three marks all overlapping one another. The mark of a mated Beta.

The sight is enough to have you flinching back as if burned, like his mere proximity is enough to cause pain, quickly turning on your next target. Johnny doesn’t have time to move beyond a brow raise, shoulders stiffening as you give him the same treatment while fingers dig frantically at the fabric all the while praying your hunch is wrong. That he wouldn’t be stupid enough to not mention such an important detail.

Beta and Alpha bites, located on their shoulders, were always less obvious than Omega markings. Evolution made it nearly impossible to bite hard enough to leave a proper mating mark on their necks without killing them, the skin tougher thanks to generations of fighting and tearing out each other's throats. As a result they adapted them to be lower, working the same way and easier to hide and protect. Lighter in color, just like the same ones staring back at you from Johnny’s skin.

“You’re mated.” It’s a simple statement, carrying all the weight of a loaded gun as you fire the words into the silence of the room, shattering the tension.

Stupid. Fucking. Stupid. Of course you should have expected something like this. The universe couldn’t do a single thing that wasn’t some elaborate joke, practically foaming at the mouth to pull the rug and leave you sore from the tumble.

“Of course he is.” The blond snaps, snarling as he pushes off the wall. “And you’re the Omega pushing their way into our pack.” Stalking closer, his face contorts as he approaches, hostility evident as you realize you’re practically straddling Johnny with his shirt still in hand. His mate.

Before he can get halfway across the room Price is moving, a wall of stone as he stands between you, arms crossed and chin raised. They’re both growling, like the sound of distant thunder despite the clear sky outside as they stand toe-to-toe. One breath away from a fight. Muscles clenched, you're ready to make a break for the front door the moment they move.

“That’s enough Simon. Stand down.” His voice is rough, carrying the tone of command that has your skin itching to obey. He’s not as tall as the other Alpha, but his shoulders remain squared under the pressure weighing the air.

Despite the anger and pheromones that flood the room your mind quickly connects the dots. The room upstairs wasn’t Johnny’s, but all theirs, set up while he was gone just as they were doing the rest of their house. Their home, which you were intruding upon. Simon’s reaction made sense now, even if you still found it rude. If anyone intruded in your nest, your place of safety, it would be cause for anger, if not a swift nip to get them moving along.

It makes sense now. How the approval had come so quickly and with little issue. Even if Johnny was a prime candidate there still should have been at least a little push back, some questioning on if he alone would be able to handle someone with your history when he was gone for long stretches of time. This was the answer. A full pack of trained military personnel, all ready and capable of handling any issues.

One alone would have been sufficient, enough to handle whatever predicted temper tantrums or escape attempts you had planned, but four? Overkill.

The military must have been just as eager to get an Omega with an established pack, remembering a few coworkers who had family in the service talking about some of the regulations that they had begun pushing for all across the world. It wasn’t uncommon for a group to become packs when they spent so much time together in stressing circumstances and was even encouraged.

One of your roommates in college, a meek Beta with a talent for writing papers the night before they were due, had been getting their master's in psychology, their area of study being on pack bonding in relation to trauma and how those bonds stood against those forged in differing circumstances to assess long-term health. If whole pack therapy should be considered as more of an approach, and if they did more harm than good.

Getting Omegas in the mix was a bit trickier considering they were barred from any branch, and the last you heard there was a sign on incentive for Omegas willing to be assigned to packs. A nice signing bonus that would inevitably go to whoever they were given to.

It was a delicate and intricate process of selection and placement. Bonds already forged and new ones being woven in, careful not to step on any tails as each person took their time coming to understand what being part of a pack rather than a mated pair meant, preparation given ahead of time. Scent soaked clothing and courting gifts exchanges, slow introduction of each pack member in a controlled environment. Even then the rate of rejection hovered around forty percent for the average pack.

For some forsaken reason, Johnny hadn’t seemed to consider this important enough to bring up. Call it a blind positivity or blissful ignorance. It was a bit late for scolding, especially when you had been the one so desperate for his help, not even thinking twice about asking any contextual questions and simply happy with the fact he was willing to do so. Not all the blame could be placed on him, though a sizable portion could be attributed.

In any case it was time for damage control before things got too out of hand.

Standing, you move around Price, squeezing between him and the coffee table to face the angry Alpha on the other side. Here you’re under the influence of his full presence, flinching back only to realize Price form is caging you between them. No room for escape.

Deep breaths. In, out.

“I didn’t know he had a pack.” You level your gaze with Simon’s, refusing to back down even as he inches closer. Another wave of musk hits, a low growl coming from Price. A warning.

“I didn’t even know he had a mate. Or rather, mates.”

Simon is silent, eyes narrowed, sliding over to where Johnny rested on the couch. Looking for confirmation if you had to guess, which he must receive as his brow quirks.

“If I had known I wouldn’t have asked. I would have tried to find someone else.” Despite the horror of the Institute, the prospect and now reality of living with three Alphas and a Beta was easily just as dangerous. A lot harder to fight back against in any case. Institutes were still government monitored, and even if they broke you down they couldn’t kill you. These men, from what you knew, could make you disappear with little question. Hide your body and claim for years that they just wanted to keep their Omega secure. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened, especially in the military.

“That so?” Simon scoffs. His posture slackens but doesn’t relax even as the tension eases just a fraction. Smothering instead of strangling.

Nodding, you flinch as he huffs in annoyance, a hand coming to scratch at his neck as his claws leave light lines behind. The sound is quickly followed by a sharp smack and that of Johnny yelping. Turning back, you see Kyle standing behind him, arms crossed and glaring as Johnny rubs the back of his head.

“You didn’t feel like that was important information?” Kyle’s tone conveyed the same annoyance you felt. A sense of satisfaction fills you at the fact that you’re not the only one upset about the information.

“She seemed a bit desperate at the time. Since it wasn’t a real courting, I didn’t think it mattered that much. Like taking on a roommate.”

“How would you feel about being sent out on a mission blind? Be real shit wouldn’t it.” Price chastises him, all attention now focused on Johnny who squirms under their combined glares.

“I…I guess.” He mumbles. Despite the situation you can't help but feel bad for him. There didn’t seem to be malicious intent behind his actions, just a lack of thought at the consequences. Not only that, but he’s your closest ally so far and you still owe him for taking the chance.

Their raised voices and harsh tones are grating, and a feeling of dread builds like water against a dam. Not because of their words. No, you had heard far worse before, muttered in corners and tossed right in your face, always talked about as if you weren’t there. An unsightly painting hung by an eclectic collector. You could hardly give a damn about what they thought about the situation, but the revelations and disagreement was enough to sprout a new line of thought.

What if they decided to cut the agreement off?

Being returned so quickly would raise even more suspicion at the fact that not even a full pack could handle you. Enough that they might decide to add more time onto your sentence to ensure a full reformation, months not doing enough. Maybe even years. After that they could declare you incapable and be appointed an overseer who would make all your decisions, and everyone knew what happened to Omegas after that.

“In any case, we’re stuck with each other now.” Cutting in, you attempt to keep your panic from showing as you clear your throat. “We’re all getting something out of this. I apologize for my behavior earlier,” Not entirely true, but an apology that seemed to pass the test as Simon’s posture relaxed for just a breath, no longer clutching his arms across his chest as if it were the only thing keeping him from sinking his nails into you. “,but now that everything's out in the open we can adjust as needed.”

Taking a moment to glance at each man, you push every ounce of sincerity you can. Playing the part of the meek Omega.

“I’m not looking to intrude on your lives. You don’t even have to act like I’m here. Johnny is the only one that I have to talk with for things and I’ll do my best to keep out of the way.” It would be no different than before, going about life, gaining as little attention as possible while doing your best to live peacefully and to the fullest.

“Please.” Head downcast, it's impossible to face them with dignity as you all but beg, teeth clenched while pleading for understanding you refuse to voice, to not let them know what you truly fear, even as your tone quivers. “I can’t go back. Not until it's over.”

They’re silent, and it’s even worse than when they had been yelling. A judgment that weighed without proclamation as your mind buzzed with uncertainty.

“We’re not sending you back.” It was Johnny who spoke, getting up to approach. His hand was heavy, grounding you once more as he gripped your shoulder. An anchor in the storm of swirling thoughts and scents. “I made a promise, and I’d be daft to break it.”

“Not your fault he’s a bit thick in the head.” Price cuts in. “One too many concussions on that one.”

There’s a teasing truth to his words, and it does enough to ease the remaining tension in the room. Enough so that even you find yourself laughing along with the others as Johnny sputters out a defense.

“Thank you.” Smiling, you watch as they move, stretching and heading back towards the stairs. Making to follow, you’re stopped by Kyle.

“We can get started on bringing your stuff in. I’m sure you’d like to get settled after all the excitement of the day.”

“I’ll help ya’. Don’t want to spend all day dragging everything in.” Johnny heads for the door, a tilt to his tone as he takes a swipe for the keys only to have Kyle snatch them away. Pushing the man towards the stairs with a firm shove, he twirls the metallic ring around his own fingers.

“I’ve had enough of putting things together and moving furniture. Time for you to do some heavy lifting while I help our friend here.”

It looks like he wants to argue but is interrupted as Simon’s voice carries down, calling him up. Defeated, he hikes up the stairs, making his displeasure known with each heavy step. It’s odd to see him follow orders after having him as a carefully constructed figure in your mind, independent and headstrong. At least there’s somebody who can reign him in.

“Keep him on a tight leash, don’t you?”

“We have to. Otherwise we'd get too many calls about him from the other squads. Though we do release him on the newbies every once in a while. Let him get some enrichment.”

His grin mirrors your own, feeling lighter as you walk back out to the vehicle. It’s odd after so long, face hurting at the unfamiliar stretch.

While Kyle heads to the back you round the front to the side door, quickly popping it open and grabbing your bag from the back seat, buried under the cans and stray shoes that had migrated during the drive. Just as you slam the door shut Kyle has managed to open the trunk, blinking at the empty space.

“Is that it?” He peeks around the side, eyeing the bag half-full on your shoulder.

“Yeah. Not much they let me keep from before. I asked about getting some of my things from back home but they said it had been put in storage already and without somebody to sign for it I couldn’t get anything shipped.” Shrugging, you ignore the way the strap scratches your skin, wishing it was heavy enough to be a burden, to feel the weight of material possessions. At least that would mean you had a few more items of your own instead of your entire life being on lease, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

“I’ll talk with Johnny about it later.” Kyle stares a moment longer at the mess, debating, before slamming the trunk. “Maybe for the best. Not sure you would have been able to fit anything in that monstrosity he calls a car.”

Heading back inside past the shoes and other items that now stand out like red flags, you head back to the stairs in time to see Simon coming up from the basement. He eyes you briefly, flicking to the bag you carry, before addressing Kyle.

“Everythings all set up.” Is all he says before quickly turning and heading back up. Not a word to you or even an acknowledgement of your presence. Fine. One less Alpha to deal with.

Best to stay as far away as possible from all of them so that eliminated the rooms upstairs. That left the first floor, which would thankfully be less subjected to their scent. A blessing.

Peering around the corner, you notice the bed from the room before is gone, the desk and dresser left behind. A few boxes stand in its place with the words office scribbled along the side.

“Oh.”

You turn back to Kyle, head tilted, and who grows sheepish. He instead turns back, heading down the steps and pointedly avoiding looking back.

“Sorry. It was one of the conditions of this whole thing. If you want I can talk to John and-”

“No. It’s alright.” You smile, watching as he reaches out alone the dark wall, hand searching for the switch as the light blinks on. There’s only one, the bright white fluorescent bulb hanging in the middle of the room without so much as a cover.

As far as basements go there could be worse. It’s not big, the bed pushed to the corner and taking up a large portion of the space, but there’s still plenty of room to navigate. It’s finished thankfully, though a few decades out of date if the wood paneling along the walls and stained carpet are anything to go by. Across the room is another door which leads to the electric panel and boiler, as Kyle explains. The only other feature is a small window on the far wall, wider than it is tall and debatable on if you could even fit through in an emergency. Light seeped in around the bushes planted directly outside, their evergreen branches so thick it’s near impossible to see through. At least privacy won’t be a concern, though a stray possum might give you a scare.

The lingering scent of ozone hangs like an omen, a subtle burning and telling of who had ordered the move. Not that it would have been a hard guess. Vaguely, you realize he must have carried the mattress down here by himself. A task that would have taken both you and your two previous roommates working together to do.

A few blankets sit folded at the end of the bed, the same bland colors of creams and tans you had grown accustomed to by now. At least they were better than the ones at the hospital, feeling like silk under your touch but no thicker than any other, and a whine of displeasure curled at your throat, missing the thick and fluffy comforts you were used to. Hopefully there was decent heating down here.

“I’ll let you get settled then?”

Turning back you find Kyle still standing by the stairs, remaining on the last step as if the floor were lava, and it took a moment for you to realize it was his own way of respecting your space, as informal as it was. The consideration after months of every boundary and personal line being crossed was enough to endear the Beta to your heart, as if he had built the house himself.

Nodding, he turns to leave. The thought of being alone again, as tempting as it might have once seemed, now makes you falter, a shoot of panic prompting you to call after him. To delay his departure for even just a moment longer, and keep the first caring connection you’d felt in weeks.

“Thank you, Kyle. For everything.”

He pauses, turning back as the creases of his brow smooth.

“Of course. We’re just upstairs, so call if you need anything.” With that he’s gone, heading back up and leaving you alone in the room. Your room.

The process of putting everything away is quick, the few clothes in your possessions finding a home in the dresser shoved in the corner along with the only pair of shoes you had, given by the nurses just before you left, were set neatly in front. The entire process took only a few minutes even as you meticulously folded each item, making sure they wouldn’t suffer from a single wrinkle and placed like fine dishware in color order. The bag itself was folded and placed alongside the other items, taking up more space than the clothes themselves.

The bed is nice enough. A queen size, bigger than any you had before and feeling like clouds as you flop back onto the top once the sheets are in place. There’s only one pillow, the cotton casing making you wish for the silk ones you once slept on. A gift to yourself one Christmas, the tree looking sad without anything underneath, roommates gone home or with friends for the holidays and leaving you all alone in the small apartment.

It wasn’t too bad. Work offered overtime for the holidays and you were quick to jump on the offer, justifying the few gifts you had gotten yourself with the extra money and the thought that your dedication towards the job would be enough to convince them you were ready for a higher position. Work was all you needed after all. To do well and prove you could do better than any other despite the snide comments and looks thrown your way, grinding your fangs together and keeping you scent blockers applied in thick layers as you worked late into the evening.

Two months later a Beta who had been there for a year less had gotten the position your manager had assured you was yours.

Now it was like starting all over again, back in the cheapest apartment you could find that would allow you to sign without a mate, with nothing but a grocery bag of clothes, conveniently located in the less desirable side of town. But if five locks and bars on the windows weren't enough to deter you then, a bland room with a constant chill and ceiling that creaked wouldn’t now.

You would be fine. You had to be fine. There was no other option.

Sleep must have claimed you at some point, the mattress forming around your body like a hug and making you feel less alone. By the time you woke it was darker out, with the light from the window little more than an orange glow, the main source of light coming from the fluorescent bulb above and making you cringe. Its white glow was sterile, reminding you of the hospital and its empty echoes at night. That would have to be the first thing changed.

Steps, light thumps only signified as anything but normal house creaking by the cry of the wood under them in a rhythmic pattern, drew your attention to the doorway. Johnny appeared around the corner, leaning against the frame and staying on the last step just as Kyle had. Apparently the Beta had given him a lesson in manners.

“Food’s here. Figured you want to eat since we didn’t have lunch today.”

Despite the instinct to brush off the favor, you could already feel the hunger scratching at your insides, warning of the protest it would unleash soon enough. Months of starvation prompted your movements, the promise of food tempting and the unknown of a next meal prompting a wave of unease. The hospital had brought food on a reliable schedule, but how were you going to feed yourself here? Were you expected to do the grocery shopping even if you didn’t have a car? Before the work had been split between your roommates, cabinets and the fridge marked off in sections like feuding countries.

Hopping off the silken sheets, Johnny seems relieved at the accepted invitation as you head upstairs, careful to keep a respectable distance between you as the sounds of the rest of the house comes in to focus.

The living room was more setup than before, though still housing a large number of boxes and littered with wrapping and tape. In the few short hours spent downstairs they had finished moving the furniture around, placing a few pictures and apparently hooking the TV up, a football game blasting on screen.

Price sat in the recliner, feet kicked up with a takeout container placed on a box beside him. Two more containers sat on the coffee table with Kyle eating from one, the other you assumed to be Johnny’s based on the empty seat beside him. They were still steaming, the smell drawing you closer.

Movement in your peripherals, looking just in time to see Simon pulling his mask back up, seated in his own cushioned chair while a plate sat balanced on his lap. One hand held a cup of tea, judging from the string that hung off the side, a fork tightly clenched in the other. No doubt the utensils would find a new home if you ventured too close judging by the way he craned his neck to glare as you passed.

“We weren’t sure what you would like and didn’t want to wake you, so I hope it’s alright.” He dug a container from the plastic bags littering the counter, passing it on. “We can switch if you want.”

The warmth of the box seeped out through the thick paper, hardly caring about the contents as you popped the top off. The smell was like heaven, mouthwatering at the prospect of something not boiled or raw. Not bothering to even sit, you dug into the food with enthusiasm, lifting a forkful to your mouth and nearly stabbing yourself in the process. It was hot, forcing you to pant around the bite before swallowing, a content hum escaping even as the roof of your mouth burned.

“Much better than hospital food.”

The comment drew a laugh from the others, attention turned away from the ads that flashed across the screen. The air was warm, a comfort in the unfamiliar space.

“Don’t get used to it.” Price took a swig of his drink, careful not to spill any as he placed it on the flimsy cardboard that acted as a table. “You’ll be begging for their food by the time you get a taste of what we live on.”

“I’m sure I’ve had worse. As long as it’s warm and won’t kill me I’ve got no complaints.”

It was all too easy for the memories of college to come back. The taste of microwave cooked rice and unseasoned black beans from a can, dented for discounts of course, lingered like a paste on the tongue. Not bad once in a while, but after the third week in a row of nothing but was enough for just the memory to prompt a gag. The dorms didn’t have a kitchen, and your cooking skills had only gotten a margin better afterwards. Not much beyond the basics and a few fancy tricks from the food network.

“Thought Omegas were supposed to know how to cook. Seen more than one turn their nose up at a plate. Though I guess you didn’t have much room to be picky with your…captivity, and all.” Like a vortex, the barb sucked all of the warmth of the air in a flash. Kyle choked on his food midbite, coughing as Price passed him his glass.

It was a tasteless comment, each syllable loaded with a sharp edge aimed to cut as deep as possible. Simon, content to ignore the looks from the others, sat peacefully in his seat, twirling his fork.

He had yet to take another bite or even sip of his drink, mask staying firmly in place while his gaze remained straight ahead at the screen.

Instead of taking the bait, falling to anger and snapping back, you simply shrugged and allowed the words to roll off. He wasn’t the first Alpha annoyed at your presence and he wouldn’t be the last. His ego was most likely just bruised at the fact his mate took another, an Omega, even if it was just a ruse.

Shifts in pack dynamics always had people on edge before settling into a new routine. It had taken months to adjust whenever a new roommate moved in through the revolving door of tenants in the complex you lived in before.

Hopefully there will be a time you could live without being at each other’s throats, but until then you’re well practiced dealing with men like him. Confidence that blurred with arrogance, steps heavy and shoulder set wide everywhere they went. Maybe none as big and capable of killing, but the same nonetheless.

“I found it wasn’t that bad with the right company.” Refusing to back down, you padded across the cool wood floors of the living room, maintaining eye contact with each step, his eyes following while his head remains turned away. A direct challenge, both refusing to back down. His chest puffed up even as he remained seated, making him take up even more space in the recliner.

Stopping just out of reach, your head tilted to the side, glancing from him to the container in your hands. A brief thought, the vivid image of dumping the piping hot mess in his lap, flashed through your mind, though was quickly pushed away. No need to waste good food. Free food. With how empty the cabinets were it would be a long wait until morning on an empty stomach.

A silent, empty threat, but a threat no less.

“I think I’ll enjoy this in my room.” Placing emphasis on the last word, it was difficult to keep your face neutral. “Wouldn’t want to spoil my appetite.”

Heavily, as if a chore, Simon’s head rolls to face you.

He looked ready to jump, eyes narrow as the spinning fork slowed to a stop. The intensity of his gaze grew, laying heavily as dark eyes carried the weight of lead. Just as ready to crush as the hands clenching around metal, the thin strip deforming between his fingers.

His claws were long, curved under their own weight and nearly digging into his own skin, and another curse was placed upon whoever allowed the regulations to state a minimum length for service members. Another thing to watch out for, to worry about those claws turning on you in the dead of the night to exact a satisfying revenge.

You were teetering on the edge, both itching for the next chance to throw a jab. Unfortunately there were more than a few weight classes between you. Your mother had always scolded that you didn’t know when to stop, but it was difficult to let someone step on your toes without biting back, leading to more than one incident that had left you worse for wear.

A cough broke the tension, drawing Simon’s pinning stare away long enough to allow a quick retreat to the sanctuary of the basement in bounding steps. Despite the lack of doors and corners, the depth was enough to muffle the noise that chased you as voices rose, little more than rumbles as you settled at the end of the bed.

Fingers itching for your phone once taken and never returned, now with little to entertain yourself other than the thoughts of what the others were doing upstairs. It was like a game, guessing who was who based on their walk as the floors creaked above while you finished off the food. It was tempting to save enough to avoid breakfast but it was gone before you could even begin to think about portioning, devouring each bite until you were licking the last of it for the utensils and wishing for more.

The food wasn’t very seasoned but it could have been boiled and still more flavorful than the slop you normally had. It hadn’t been an exaggeration when you told John about your less than exciting flavor profile in recent times. The hospital food almost had you wishing for the food of the camp, at least which had been forged from the surrounding area and flavored with whatever you could find.

Wild dill, rosemary, and even the occasional mint patch. Maybe there was enough space to start a small garden somewhere around here. It would take time and money, only the earlier of which you had, but at least it would be something to do.

As the empty container stared back, your mind drifted to Simon’s words. They had been delivered with the intention of damaging, but they weren’t untrue, reminding you of your place in the new pecking order.

A captive. No longer held by government bodies or militant groups but still contained all the same. Bonds of iron were changed for that of cloth, less heavy, their presence laying lightly, but still restricting. Ones that you had reluctantly slipped on when you had asked Johnny for help, hoping they would be easier to snap than the endless wearing down of the others.

Within the groups of Omegas you had at least some standing, turned to for answers and reassurance. Always the first to step up when something needed to be done. To them you were strong, confident in a way that was normally beaten out of Omegas since their presentation. But here you were nothing. Could do nothing. Not without permission.

They could act as kindly as they wanted to, pretend like they were all smiles and gentle words, but Simon was the reminder of what they could be. What they would be, when driven to the point of frustration. Power was a fickle thing, and never did it go without abuse to make the lives of the wielders easier even at the detriment of others.

You weren’t equal in the eyes of anyone in any aspect, no matter how many fallacies were exposed and proven. It was only hoping that their kindness was greater than their temper. The others regarded you with pity, like a wounded dog that needed to be taken care of as their eyes held you with the same demeaning shine you had stared back at your entire life. Like something to be pitied. Simon instead saw you as an annoying stray, taken off the street and just as ready to toss you the moment you nipped. It was nice to have the truth seen, even if it felt painfully raw. Like the first breath of winter air, a shock that cleared the system and locked it at the same time.

All you could hope was that they didn’t decide to put a collar on you.

Despite your earlier nap your eyes still felt heavy, drooping with the weight of a full stomach and the exhaustion of the day's events, mind still struggling to catch up and process everything. Not even the heavy footsteps above could keep you awake, curling into the sheets and seeking an ounce of warmth within. Hopefully you could get more materials soon, even if you doubted you would feel the urge to properly nest. Not with mister dark-and-stormy thundering around, though thankfully his scent had faded enough from earlier to ignore, allowing you to slip under the grasp of sleep.

So deep you fell, that not even the subtle scent of pine woke you, instead invading your slumber and bringing about dreams of sweeping forest and camping trips. Filled with laughter and food, clear lakes and warm sun. If only you could stay there forever instead of facing your new reality.

Chapter Text

Stargazing had never really been your thing. The cities often had too much light pollution for even a glimpse of the lights that dotted the inky sky, and beyond basic navigation skills there was never much point in studying them simply beyond the occasional admiration of their beauty on camping trips.

Your brother had been far more into the science of it all, countless charts layering his walls like they were painted on. Books scattering his floor like landmines only he knew how to navigate. Heaven forbid you moved something. He would know right away and there was nothing to save you from his wrath once he was started. It had gotten to the point he was forced to move out to the backyard and into the treehouse, though he never complained. Not even in the winter when he had to have a space heater up there with him, content with his professional grade telescope he received after months of begging for his birthday.

The party had been space themed of course, the food themed and the house looking like a leftover casserole with all the reflective decorations mother had put up. That night, long after the last guest had left and into the early hours of the morning, he had spent time pointing out various stars and constellations as your eyes drooped, only half paying attention as you squinted through the lens at the distant lights.

“He’ll give it up eventually.” Your mother had said.

“Once he presents he’ll take on a proper Alpha hobby like Aria.”

At the time you had only rolled your eyes, unable to understand their obsession with what you found to be just fun hobbies. The day your older sister had made captain of the track team and made it to states was a day of celebration, overshadowing your own win at the district math competition. Not a single person had shown up, dropped off at the beginning of the day and picked up far after everyone had gone. Left holding your trophy while sitting on the steps of the school late into the evening when the stars had begun to show.

Oh how you would give anything to see those stars now, the trees stretching in an endless canopy overhead, the pine needles doing nothing to soften the ground as you ran. Faster and faster your legs carried you, branches blurring together as you gasped for air, fear driving you further. You couldn’t remember what it was you were running from, but you knew it wasn’t good. Knew that if you stopped then the pain never would.

And so you kept running with no idea of where you were headed as glowing eyes peered from the dark, threat unseen be ever-present.

Run.

Run.

Run.

The cushioned pine of the forest gave way to slick steel, cold biting into your heels in place of earth and stone, staccato breath bouncing between the endless walls as voice taunted. They preen, confident and lackadaisical but no less sharp as each syllable sunk into your flesh, intent on dragging you back into the consuming darkness.

The corner came so sharp you nearly ran into the wall, skidding to a halt and slamming into the steel with a dull thud, bones rattling on impact as you pushed off, continuing through the endless maze. There was no rhyme or reason to your movements, adrenaline fueling each step with every twist and turn. Your lungs burn, yet you refused to give up even as tears well, yet you refused to yield to them. There was no time to cry, to waste energy. Only to escape.

Another corner, identical to every other, yet as you took a sharp left a new sight filled your field of vision, nearly stumbling as the light shone just a few dozen yards away. Freedom. Escape.

Legs pumping faster, the warmth of the light beckoned, promising to wipe the fear that chased on heel. It was so close just a few more feet and-

The light cut out, doors slamming shut and leaving not even a sliver of light, of hope. The new barrier didn’t budge even as you threw your weight into it, pain lacing through your shoulder on impact. It did nothing to deter you, panic and desperation growing as you beat at the wall even while knowing there was nothing to make it budge. Not even a seam to sink your nails into. Like the exit had simply vanished as if it were never there to begin with. A figment of your imagination that couldn’t be conjured no matter what as the darkness quickly consumed your path, gaining like hounds on a scent, teeth sharp and breath hot as you curled into the corner in an attempt to escape notice, knees brought tightly to your chest. But there was no escape. There never was. You could close your eyes to the sight and cover your ears to the howls, but there was nothing stopping the screams that tore their way out as the claws of your pursers descended, sinking into flesh and pulling you from back, deeper into the darkness even as you fought back, kicking and screamed, tooth and nail.

Sharp pain, like injected poison, erupted, spreading between ribs and climbing to wrap its grasp around your throat. A voice whispered from the dark, rumbling like gravel over still grates.

“Poor Omega. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

The grip tightened, vision growing dark as laughter bounced off the walls, taunting in its glee.

“NO!”

The shout was met with no answer, only the still of the room as you shot out of bed. There was nothing but the vague outline of familiar shapes in the bare space, backlit by the dull light of the crescent moon seeping through the branches outside the high window.

Legs tangled in the sheets, you struggled to escape their soft, constricting grasp, only succeeding in tumbling from the mattress as another sob tore its way out as you met the finished cement floor. Knees met the cold surface with a dull thud, pain shooting through your legs but not unwelcome in any way. Not now. Anything to wake you, draw you further away from the grasp of nightmares and creatures that lurk in the shadows, waiting for their chance to strike both past and present. To take advantage of your vulnerability as you lay gasping, blunted nail digging into your arms as the other flew to your side where the claws had sunk into.

The skin was imperfect, still bumpy and swollen from the previous stitches removed by Kyle not even a week ago. It should have been something done at the hospital but the thought of going back to the sterile white halls, the constant smell of disinfectant and descenter, was enough to raise your hackles. Something the Beta took notice of when Johnny had mentioned the upcoming appointment.

“I have some basic field training. More so putting them in, but I can’t imagine it’ll be too difficult.”

Of course you had jumped at the chance, feeling much more at ease as he and Johnny had distracted you while you lay on the granite counter turned operating table, the previous chidding the later each time he got in the way of the light.

“Sound like my Da’.” The Scott grumbled, pouting as he leaned on the opposite counter twirling one of the removed stitches between his fingers. He held an ice cream scoop in the other, pausing in his task of scooping three bowls that were to be a reward for the ordeal. Johnny of course claimed the largest bowl without argument. Not when his nose was still red and stuffed with tissue from your heel after he had tried to hold you down to keep from moving. It had been a knee jerk reaction, the sudden immobility triggering the action, synapse firing in response to the restriction from instincts both primal and developed.

It seems he had been caught off guard as after that you hadn’t been able to move an inch while Kyle got the more troublesome stitches. A reminder of how strong he was, the corded muscle of his arms hardly even flexing to keep you locked in place. How strong they all were, and where you lay in comparison. No amount of good intentions could change that.

You still felt bad even as he waved off your apologies, rushing to get something to stop the bleeding while Kyle remained immobilized by his own laughter.

Kyle’s hands were calloused, rough from years of training, yet handled each thread with the care reserved for fine china. Delicate but firm, steady as he did his best to not react to every flinch of your body as the blade cut. His claws were just as sharp as he held the scalpel carefully, only lacking the delicacy for the job with the thick keratin that protruded from each finger. Another advantage nature had given him with his Beta presentation, twice as strong as any Alpha or Omegas. You had a roommate once who was in the habit of using them like can openers, cringing each time her claw punctured the metal lids.

The pads of said fingers gently ran over the fading pink line as warm eyes observed the wound in search of anything missed. A far cry from how your own tore over the flesh, phantom pains spreading from the wound like a web that sought to catch you once again, keeping you stuck in the memory of its delivery, the fear and panic of the moment.

Deep breaths.

In…2..3..4..Out..2..3..4..

In…2..3..4..Out..2..3..4..

It shouldn’t scare you like it does. These nightmares. You felt like a pup each time you woke crying. They were a plague even before your capture, never leaving but always taking on a different form. First classmates, then your family. An endless cycle of whatever fears plagued your mind.

The nurses in the hospital hadn’t even given you a second glance after making sure you were okay after being woken from your dreams, shaking and crying. They gave you blankets and a warm drink, assuring that everything was fine and leaving you to lay awake in fear the rest of the night. No doubt they had seen countless others in the same situation, and the thought was enough to keep you from feeling too embarrassed, but it did nothing to keep you from craving your nest back home. The familiarity and comfort it brought. There was nowhere, no one, to turn to but yourself then.

Even now with a pack, you were alone.

‘No’ you mentally chided yourself, teeth drawing blood as you bit into your tongue, hand clasped over your mouth as another silent sob racked your body, nearly drawing blood with its intensity. They weren’t your pack. They were a pack, long before you had gotten there. You were just an outsider there until you could be returned, use having run its course for all parties.

Even if you didn’t know them, a part of you, kept in a sturdy headlock, ached to make the trek upstairs and seek them out. Just two flights of stairs. To be assured by Johnny that everything was going to be alright. For Kyle to make you chamomile tea with honey and cinnamon, his preferred drink and a sign he was up in the mornings. Price would say nothing, but his presence would be all that was needed, the silent confidence he seemed to always carry with him that shook away lingering doubts, knowing that if something were wrong he would take care of it.

But they weren’t your pack. It would be crossing the self-drawn lines to consider them so. You would do this as you had always done before. Alone.

All at once the walls seemed to close in further. Six solid surfaces to contain you. To keep you cut from the outside world with their suffocating resolution. The moonlight streaming in from the window is no longer as bright, only illuminating the small particles that aided the air in turning thick as you gasp for breath.

Trapped. Nowhere to go. It was too small, claustrophobic. It’s nearly impossible to untangle from the blankets, like hands that grip you tighter as panic swells even higher, tearing holes in the sheets in your scramble with nails hardly grown out enough to do so.

The stairs hardly have time to shout in protest as you ascend, feet flying over the wood as you take them two at a time around the corner and to the main living area. Everyone has gone to bed long ago, the room cast in shadow as you barely avoid crashing into the furniture. The light from the siding doors is like a beacon, nearly crashing through your glass in haste as trembling hands fumble with the latch.

The night is chilly, almost freezing, a shock to your system as you stumble into the grass. Falling to your knees, dirt and stone bite skin as you grasp the blades so tightly they rip from the ground, searching for anything to cling onto. To ground you back to reality and away from the shadows of grabbing hands and taunting voices, mind threatening to escape to the expansive inkyness of the sky above. Not even here are the stars with you, the light pollution too much to see more than the most faint of glimmers.

Morning dew shines, blending with the tears that quickly accumulate and threaten to spill over, held back with the sobs that tear at your throat, burning with anger and fear. Yet even now you can feel yourself slipping away, all sense of reason numbed as time passes without count, the only measure being the gentle tapping of the chimes from the neighbors yard.

You press the heels of your hands into your eyes until stars bloom behind the lids and the familiar ache of a headache rises like tidewater. If only it could drown out your thoughts.

When did it all come apart? The question pressed at the back of your throat until you choke. You try to map the threads that made up your life, to find the first stitch that slipped loose, but the thread comes apart in a dozen places at once.

Was it the increasing office tensions, or the fight? Maybe even before then, before college. Before you had been abandoned for the first time. It could be since your presentation, when your mother first got wind of the overly-sweet scent of Omega. The conversation you let die because an apology felt too humiliating to ask for. The job you pushed for that became your whole identity. The man you met who promised and then demanded. Each memory fastens to another, and the pile of ‘if only’ grows into a small, impossible mountain, leaving you abandoned at the top with no way down.

You could have fixed it, you hissed, teeth clenched. If you'd been braver, stronger. Not allowed yourself to be walked over even as you clawed at the feet that stood on your neck, merely growling instead of snarling and snapping like the rabid animal they accused you of being. Or maybe that was the issue. If you hadn’t pushed so hard to get that damn job, if you had never met that man, never been forced to defend yourself in the way you had. And now everything had been ripped away. Everything and everyone you knew. You wanted to call someone, anyone. Shay. Rick. Hell, even your sister. To hear a familiar voice that could provide comfort, even if the words were empty. A rock to cling to of familiarity to smooth the rawness as the dark seemed to close in, inky shadows escaped in the house now reaching out from the edges of the yard, dancing on the edges of your vision and persistently closing in as your breathing became even more labored.

Then a flicker. Nothing bright or harsh on the eyes. So small it would be easy to miss if the yard light had been on, but drawing your attention, bringing you back from the edge with its soft glow.

A firefly. Perched on your knuckle, unconcerned with the tension of the skin it sat atop of.

Its light fades momentarily, before lighting once again. A pattern unknown to you, but hypnotizing, your breathing syncing with the slow pace of its luminance. It moved, undeterred by your shaking hand as you slowly brought it closer to eye level, watching as it turned to look at you. Its wings fluttered, once, twice. Each sends a chill down your spine at the tiny breeze felt only on that small patch of skin. It crawls, winding around your fingers with curiosity, from one to the other until it has explored each one. Content, its body lights once more before it takes off, flying towards your face and forcing you to jerk back.

That's when you notice that it's not the only one. The yard is full, twinkling in the night like the stars that are muted above, even more numerous. It's odd to see them out so late in these numbers, normally reserved for the twilight hours of the evening. The darkness is alive, stitched together with small, steadfast lights that keep blinking as the inky night presses down.

They’re so tiny and fragile. Persistent in their refusal to be swallowed by the shadows as you watch them dance through the air, a call and response to those hidden amongst the grass.

A memory flashes in your mind, prompting you to head over to the small shed located in the corner of the yard. It was filled with a number of tools that came with the house, all rusted with use and time, but also a few boxes that held the belongings of the previous tenants which you hadn’t gotten around to setting out by the curb.

One afternoon while bored, you had gone through the contents, quickly discovering that they must have had children from the amount of outside toys they held. Monster trucks and shovels, plastic watering cans in bright colors and half-used bubble wands. It doesn’t take long to find what you're looking for, carefully closing and latching the door behind you.

Treading to the edges of the property, you inspect the ground on hands and knees. With gentle hands, you pick a number of the glowing bugs from the foliage and place them in the sky-blue bug catcher. After gathering around a dozen, you slide the front closed, picking up the container to inspect them as they cling to the mesh netting that makes up the majority of the walls. Inside, the small insects crawl about, unconcerned as they explore their new environment. You’ll need to put some food and water in there for them when you head back in. There's a few apples on the counter that should work well enough.

“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” You whisper, turning back towards the house, legs more steady now then when you had stumbled out. “I’ll let you go tomorrow. For now, can you just keep me company?”

They say nothing at your assurance, only glowing in an abstract pattern to one another in their own language as they crawl about. So absorbed by watching your new companions, the weight of the world fades away, if for just a moment. As does your awareness of your surroundings. If you had been a bit more observant you may have noticed more of your environment.

Silent eyes watch from the shadows, the light of their cigarette blending in with the periodic flashes from the bugs around them as they tag a heavy drag. The wind blows both smoke and scent downwind, leaving you unknowing of the silent observer as you head back inside in search of a snack to give your new companions.
_____________________________

Adjusting is easier than you would have expected, though that may be simply because of the absence of your roommates during the day, allowing an acquaintance of the space without their looming presence keeping you on edge. Their patterns are predictable after a week, ingrained like lines in wood on a strict schedule Monday through Friday. A military quirk no doubt, but one that allowed you to settle in with the knowledge of what each day brings.

They would be gone before you woke up, the sunlight hardly cracking through the window of your basement dwelling as the birds picked through the bushes. A few footsteps that never fully pulled you from sleep and the muted voice of the TV were the only signs they hadn’t vanished in the night like ghosts. Some used dishes here and there, but the mornings were always a silent affair. Were they always like this, so silent, or was it purely for your own sake? To avoid disturbing you, or to prevent any interactions in the morning?

The house remained undisturbed the remainder of the day, just you and your own thoughts to fill the silence. Sometimes you turned the TV up until it hurt your own ears just to make the large house feel less empty, sure the neighbors would complain despite never receiving so much as a knock. It was odd, especially when you never heard a peep coming from the other identical structures lining the streets.

Despite the fact the neighborhood seemed to be bursting with families, you hardly even saw them apart from a glimpse here or there as they got in their vehicles, most with multiple children running around their feet. Sometimes they would be playing in the front yard, though they seemed to favor the privacy provided by the back of the house. You were tempted, itching to talk with them and break the quickly growing monotony of your routine and distract your mind from wandering but after months of being within the same small group you felt wary of strangers, the idea of approaching them on your own anxiety inducing. So instead you watched afar from the window, willing yourself to gather the courage to go out and introduce yourself to the other Omega and Betas that scurried about.

Once, after the silence of the house had driven you into near insanity, you had ventured further beyond the end of the street. A moment of courage brought on by sheer boredom and desperation to talk with others. Johnny could talk the ear off anyone, going on for hours if you got him going about one thing or another, but you needed more. Someone who understood. Another Omega, who you could connect with on a deeper level. Who understood more of your experiences than any Alpha could even attempt to. It had been the same everywhere, naturally flocking together as if drawn by an invisible force. Maybe a leftover evolutionary instinct that promised safety in numbers. Whatever the case, even as solitary as you had been before in your own small circle of friends, you had never felt so alone.

The adventure had started out fine, walking down the first few blocks without issue. The houses all looked nearly identical, with only slight variations, many brought about by the decorations put up, giving small glimpses into the personality of their occupants. Rose bushes lining under window sills, sports flags hung on porches. Some had spaces for cats to rest outside, while others had dog ties linked by deeply driven posts. All portraying a peaceful, idyllic life. Kept neat with a white picket fence. Nothing like the cramped, dingy apartments you were used to.

You hadn't even noticed at first, the footsteps behind you blending in with the white noise of everything else, senses overwhelmed in every aspect as you eagerly took in the sights and smells. The scent of fresh cut grass was so heavy you could practically taste it. But after stopping to admire a rose bush that nearly engulfed the mailbox at the end of the street, the footsteps that had been filtered out with everything else, once approaching, did as well.

Old instincts honed from spending years living alone resurfaced as your mind caught the threads of warning.

Instantly on alert, you made sure not to make a commotion of glancing over your shoulder, pretending to be looking at rooflines. An Alpha, if their scent was anything to go by. Thirty feet away. Middle aged, with a baseball cap snug low on his head, blocking his face from view. Dressed in casual clothes and scrolling on his phone.

No problem, you assured yourself. Nothing to panic over yet. There were plenty of people out and about. Walking on the sidewalk wasn’t a crime. Turning back, you continued walking, ears perked, straining to pick up even the slightest of sounds. After only four steps, another joined yours, walking in perfect timing to be covered up to those not paying attention.

No big deal. Maybe he just lived this way.

At the next corner you took a left, pace increasing when the steps behind you continued to follow, hastening in turn to match. Another left confirmed you were being followed, now on the edge of panic as you attempted to get back to the pack’s house. A cold sweat broke out across your skin, stomach sinking as you realized that you were lost, the cookiecutter houses creating a maze of confusion as you began a light jog, head whipping back and forth, nose scenting the air for anything familiar.

The sun beat down harshly, only adding to your exhaustion, still sorely out of shape from your confinement.

Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

The mantra ran on repeat as you passed house after house, across streets and roads, not stopping even as a red truck had to jam on its brakes to avoid clipping you. Air was getting harder to breath, now feeling suffocating as it escaped each ragged inhale.

You should have never gone out. Not without something to protect yourself with. Alpha repellent or a taser even, the hubris of being on a military base leading you to think nothing would happen. How naive. Stupid. To think that a place teeming with cocky Alphas in a violent field of work would be any better than a corporate office building. You might as well have offered yourself up on a platter.

The Alpha was closer now, distance cut nearly in half in his approach.

Purple hydrangeas cut off your mental beratement, mind flashing back to seeing them just at the start of your walk, thinking how nice they looked with the matching pillows on the deck furniture and hanging baskets along the eaves. Taking a sharp left, you cut across a row of lawns, jumping over a fence as the familiar flag of Johnny’s favorite football team waved in the wind, its flapping fabric a beacon of hope as the heavy thud of a body sounded behind the fence you jumped over just moments before.

Making it to the lawn, you were across and upon the threshold, not even touching the stairs as you jumped over them, wrenching the door open and slamming it shut behind you, lock clicking into place as you collapsed against the wood, panting.

You made it. Safe. You were safe, even if your racing pulse refused to believe so, drowning out everything else you could possibly hear.

Upon gathering the courage you chanced a look outside, peeking through the thin vertical window next to the door as your eyes scoured the lawn and street.

Nothing. Completely empty, apart from Kyle’s car, which had been left in favor of riding with Johnny that morning.
Your breathing slowed, though the echoes of panic still throbbed in your chest. Every shadow outside seemed larger than it was, every creak of the house a possible intruder. Your mind replayed the steps, the fences, the Alpha behind you, your pulse thrumming in memory.
You sank to the floor, back pressed against the door, legs stretched in a trembling sprawl. The wood under your back was cold but steady, grounding you. Slowly, the racing thoughts began to untangle themselves. Relief seeped in, tentative at first. Relief that you had made it back. Relief that the lock was secure.
Even as your heart gradually slowed, there was a trace of lingering panic. Your hands shook slightly as you pressed them into your knees.
You were inside. You were safe. You had made it.
The quiet was profound now, almost sacred. A stark contrast to the chaos that had pursued you outside. The distant hum of the refrigerator, the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the house, the soft shuffling of the leaves outside. Each mundane sound anchored you, pulling you further back to reality.

After taking another length to steady yourself you got up and cracked the windows, hoping you could flush out the burning scent of your panic from the house before anyone returned.

Despite calming yourself in the moment, the experience put an end to your outdoor explorations for now at least. But that meant you were back to being restricted to the bounds of the property.

The only company you had was your temporary pack. They themselves were scarce most of the day during the week, returning in increments as they finished whatever they needed to, nothing ever specified. Not that you had asked, only picking up a few snippets here and there as they complained about one thing or another.

It was easy to imagine you lived there alone, curled up on the couch and sipping coffee in the morning. The two chairs that sat to either side, plush cushions that promised to swallow you whole, were already claimed by Simon and John.

Simon’s you refused to touch out of principal, as well as the fear of what he might do if he came back to find your scent absorbed into the fabric. The memory of his hands around your throat had yet to fade and you were none too keen on getting a refresher.

John would hardly have an issue if you chose to curl up on the plush leather, but the idea was daunting. He was the pack leader, as you had learned, and despite your disregard for the dynamics on any other occasion he had been far too kind to you so far to warrant wanting to make him uncomfortable in the slightest. He always seemed the most tired when he got back, always groaning as his joints cracked.

The illusion of being alone was only ruined by the way their mixed scents still hung in the air, fighting for dominance while you kept your own restrained as much as possible. As if minimizing your presence would make them forget about you, allowing you to wait out your sentence in solitude.

Kyle was normally the first back, his presence silent but comforting as you continued about your routines, sometimes sharing a snack or watching TV. He was never intruding, yet always there, chatting along with each plot hole pointed out and new box unpacked. You only ever did so with his direction, not wanting to be accused of snooping but hardly able to live in the mess of boxes that populated the house. Through unpacking you discovered a set of curtains, which he had suggested setting up as a mock door at the end of the stairway. They weren’t the fanciest, but did a good enough job of blocking out sound and noise.

He brought you a sense of comfort, able to feel at ease with him over the others with his subdued but bright citrus scent. Kyle never pushed or prodded. Not even when you were quick to keep him from being behind you out of sight, jumping whenever he moved too fast or unexpectedly. When he would come back to the house and find you in the backyard, staring at the clouds and oblivious to the world even as he called your name. Not a single comment on the stray tears that found their way out, just a tilt of his head, the silent question open to be ignored or answered.

Kyle would have been a good mate. A kind mate. The type you would have been open to before everything in life went awry. It was almost too easy to picture him in some meet-cute scenario, your eyes meeting between the shelves of books, hands brushing as you both reached for the same ripened fruits at the market. It’s for the best the others had him, an obvious anchor for the Alphas, his very presence calm and grounding.

Johnny was normally the next back, a toss on if Simon would be with him or not, though it was often the former. When it was just him the house became more alive, energy infectious as his thick accent cut through every room, making every corner feel a bit more lived in. The door would burst open, his boots thrown carelessly beside the others in favor of heading to the kitchen for a snack, his appetite endless. Johnny could eat two whole sandwiches, then more than anyone else at dinner two hours later.

He was more intruding, bordering on excessive as his hands seemed to constantly find themselves near you either squeezing your shoulders or ruffling your hair, but with Kyle there to reign him in when the Alpha didn’t notice the way you jumped at each touch, squirming at the unfamiliar closeness, there was enough balance for comfort. He would talk endlessly about his day, anything he found to be of interest from some funny misstep happening in training to the gossip he heard from the office workers. His rambling words spoken around mouthfuls of food would turn to questioning about your own day even when he received the same answers. Despite his intrusive nature it was hard to see him as threatening. More so oblivious if you had to name it, his faults from missteps rather than malice.

Sleep, clean, watch TV. Maybe try to do a bit of investigative work on the neighbors when you feel up to it, adding to the ever growing narrative you had constructed for each of them in your head. A storybook of tales to accompany each sliver of conversation into a chronicle only read by yourself late at night. Anything to occupy your time and avoid thinking too much on what your current situation was. It was tempting to ask Johnny to go out so you could get some things to entertain yourself, but there never seemed to be a good moment. Especially not with the shadow that followed him half the time.

Simon was a constant presence, but unlike the relaxed nature of Kyle or buzzing energy of Johnny, or even the quiet comforting presence of John he was just…there. A silent observer.

Eyes that once burned with hate had now simmered into a smoldering annoyance. His tone was still sharp, and never were you addressed unless absolutely necessary. There was still the occasional jab, a barbed comment meant to bear fangs and raise hackles. Instead of letting them stick, to draw your anger and take the bait, you instead simply ignored him, delivering a sharp comment of your own when you deemed fit. Like two predators circling one another, a wolf and viper crossing paths, neither backing down but recognizing the threat each possessed, bites painful in each of their own way.

Life had settled into a pattern. Reliable, if not boring, especially when compared to the constant movement that had consumed your life the moment you presented. To rest for even a moment would mean to lose focus, leaving you to stumble over the edge in which everything you had ever worked for constantly balanced on. More than once Johnny had joined you in pacing the back garden, kicking a ball back and forth between you. Ever patient even with your uncoordinated movements while Kyle and John watched from the deck, feet kicked up and drink in hand.

To their credit, they did try to include you in things. Inviting you to stay upstairs for dinner, but always opting to take whatever microwaved or boxed meal you found down to your haven. The open spot on the couch remained empty, as they seemed to enjoy their dinners in the living room, taking full advantage of the time they had to unwind.

Even John had tried to get you to join them whenever he was able to make it back in time for their afternoon lounging, sometimes inside and others out on the back deck, a small fire burning in the pit outside. It seemed there was always one thing or another keeping him back, but even tired as he appeared, the wrinkles that crinkled in the corners of his eyes outweighed the bags under them as he gestured to an open spot. Sometimes he would catch you in the kitchen, locked in conversation for a few minutes as you got a drink or snack. It would mostly be about simple things, the weather or your choice in food or drink. He was still intimidating to talk to as the pack Alpha even when he bunched his shoulders in an attempt to look smaller, keeping his scent as muted as possible and movements slow.

The weekends were a bit more complicated. Johnny and Kyle liked to sleep in, always waking after you for once, while John was up at the same time as the rest of the week. So many years of the same schedule had left his body on a permanent internal clock it seemed, and he wasn’t the worst company to have around, becoming more lively after the other two woke.

Simon didn’t sleep for all you knew, never seeing him in anything that resembled sleepwear apart from the workout clothes you recognized as for the gym, the stench of sweat permeating the garments even as they were coated with a layer of detergent. He would always return from wherever he had disappeared to at nine a.m. sharp, making himself a drink before retreating to his office which occupied the space of the previous bedroom. John had taken residence in the one across the hall, though he didn’t like using it, always complaining whenever he was forced to sit for hours of the day in his cushioned chair.

“I Don’t care much for bringing work home.” He had grumbled, stretching while emerging after midnight. You felt bad for him, cringing as his joints popped in protest one after another. Much better than what it used to be, Johnny had assured you after expressing your concerns and offering to trade mattresses. It was the one thing Simon had lost on in the vote apparently, and the satisfaction of knowing that was almost enough to drown out the guilt about John.

“You’ve done us a real favor lass.” Slinging an arm around your shoulder, Johnny kicked his feet up on the coffee table, nearly spilling the mugs perched on the edge. “We’re living like kings compared to the barracks.’’

It was a sentiment Kyle backed and which you had to take as truth. They knew him best after all. Still, it was easy to tell what nights he slept better and which he was left tossing and turning. His shoulders would be just a bit heavier, eyes a tad more drooping as he replied with grunts and nods while his whole body seemed wound just a fraction tighter. On those days you made sure to be extra quiet, leaving the TV on silent when he dozed in the recliner as soft beams of light fell across his skin, his snores too loud to hear anything anyways.

More than once you had seen him snap at Johnny for waking him, his tone filled with annoyance as he warned the younger Alpha that he would be tossed outside until dinner next time.

Maybe Simon just needed more sleep and that would take care of whatever stick he had up his ass. The silent man seemed intent on avoiding the activity with his schedule though, never napping and always up before the rest. It was already becoming commonplace now where you would awaken to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, creeping upstairs only to find the blue glow of the TV still on and his silhouette outlined as pictures flashed across the screen in silence, occasionally set to the lowest of volumes. It had taken two nights of fitful sleep thanks to a full bladder to push past the anxiety, quickly scampering through the hall behind him in and out of the bathroom on the first floor while making the least amount of noise as possible.

If he ever noticed he didn’t say a word, content to ignore you, which was more than what could be said about the others.

It seemed as if Johnny was like velcro, hard to get rid of but undeniable in the security he brought, constantly hanging around and intent on including you. His energy is only buffered by Kyle’s presence, who even opted to move from his normal spot on the couch to keep you from having to be sandwiched between the two.

It was a small comfort. Enough to leave you lingering in the main area, curled up in your new corner with a blanket wrapped like a cocoon.

“It's not a good idea to take either of their chairs.” Kyle had warned after catching you eyeing the cushy seats. They were far too scented by their normal occupants, but it was still tempting to take the pillows thrown on them to add to your own bed, a singular pillow your only company in the plain sheets. You would have done so if you hadn’t been sure they would take them back just as quickly. The thought of anyone intruding on your space, even just their scent, had you bristling.

Besides, you hadn’t felt even the slightest urge to nest since arriving. To nest would mean you felt safe, secure enough to create a space to completely relax and be vulnerable. A place to invite your closest loved ones and relish in the comfort and joy of one another’s presence, scents mingled together until you didn’t know where one ended and others began, mixing into one intoxicating concoction as you dosed in and out, uncaring of the outside world when your own was already there.

Or at least that’s what you had been told by the others. Your family was never very keen on the idea, and all previous attempts were half-hearted at best. They brought a type of comfort, but none you had ever heard about other Omegas go on and on about, and the practice was too time consuming and costly for good materials. Still, it always felt at least worth a try.

With Mr.Darkandgloomy lurking around there was no chance of that here.

You could always hear his steps, succinct and sharp, thudding across the floor while you were left waiting with baited breath, fingers clenching the sheets until your knuckles turned white and the fabric left lines in skin. The crackle of his scent seemed to constantly hang in the air, a smoldering fire that promised to consume you at the first sign of fault, singing you from head to toe. The least predictable with eyes that haunted your dreams, watching yet doing nothing as monsters gave chase night after night.

There hadn’t been anything physical since that first day, both giving each other a wide berth padded by fear and mistrust, but that didn’t keep the apprehension away. It was all too easy to sit and imagine what he could do, running through every scenario in your head just as you had the first week alone in your first apartment. Mind prepared and ready to act at a moment's notice with dozens of reactions to each scenario.

The memory of his hands around your nape, thick digits pressing in with a bruising force, was still fresh in your mind, a haunting memory. Not for the fact that it was particularly unusual or memorable, but due to the familiarity of the action. A hold of forced submission that had you on edge.

Simon was only a fourth of your company, and easy enough to ignore if you tried, even when his scent became overwhelming just to spite you, or so you assumed. Especially when the others were near opposites.

Despite your reassurance that they didn’t have to spend time around you, the other three seemed to find time, lounging around in the living room in the evenings, and trying to pull you into their conversations even when you knew nothing of what they were speaking of. Johnny was all too happy to inform you, a gleam in his eye as he spilled the new information to where you could hardly keep up. Never once did he insult your intelligence, brushing it off as just an Alpha thing and that an Omega could never hope to understand. It was nice to feel equal in their conversations, included, even if there was little more to do than listen.

Never before had you watched so many soccer games, only able to grasp some of the basics as Kyle explained the rules. It was easy enough to follow, even as you found yourself paying more attention to the statistics that would occasionally flash on screen before and after commercial breaks. The numbers told you more about the game than any of the rules could as you devoted the information.

You could appreciate that they were trying to help you settle in, but everything still felt off. Like a shirt buttoned done one space too high. Each interaction was underlined with an air of apprehension from both sides, constantly wary of overstepping in the intricate dance around one another as you found your rhythm. Living around Alphas was an adjustment, more territorial than either of your Beta and Omega roommates, and it wasn’t a wild assumption to draw that there were hardly any Omegas that they spent regular time around let alone living with.

Three weeks in and you were still taking your meals downstairs whenever they were there, only lingering when Simon happened to be out for the night on the rare occasion. Nobody ever questioned why he was gone or to where, only a quiet acceptance as they went about their afternoon. Those times it was a bit easier to relax without the cloying scent of ozone, allowing your back to relax against the plush fabric of the couch instead of remaining perched on the edge of the cushion, feet kicked up and away from the stale air of the basement.

It felt awkward, eating their food and using their supplies, and you made a silent promise to pay them back as soon as your paperworking from the bank came through. Every day was a wait for the mail to come, watching from the window for the truck to deliver the papers that signaled the successful connection of funds from your account to the card Johnny had given you. The same one that the agents had given him, intending for his control over the financials. It was just a hunk of plastic until then, and each delivery was met with disappointment.

It was while sifting through the various envelopes that you came across the letter. You froze mid-step across the kitchen, nearly dropping your mug. The familiar name splashed across the white paper, corners frayed from its journey across seas. The black ink contrasted sharply against the pale paper, just below the neat line of stamps in the corner. Each one carefully placed, the delicate orange lilies depicted were worn, but their bright petals still stood out like a neon sign. A warning.

Just a few simple letters was enough to bring you grinding to a halt, the name hauntingly familiar in a way that planted a seed of anxiety within your chest, growing to strangle each breath.

It made sense that they would be contacted even if there was no longer a legal association. They were technically family after all, even when not recognized by either party.

You stood, staring at the thick envelope as if it would bite. For being paper it felt as if the object weighed a ton, dragging you down against the floor, the wood cold as it made contact with your knees.

Everything was muffled, sunlight streaming through the window over the sink suddenly less warm. The sounds of children playing outside faded to white noise, instead replaced with yelling voices that echoed and overlapped. The slamming of doors and pounding of fist on wood. Even the air itself seemed to dissipate, leaving you gasping for breath and your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill over.

Fuck. It had been so many years, filled with therapy and carefully constructed barriers, and you still acted like this? Reduced to tears from a simple letter? It wasn’t fair!

Emotions, indistinguishable from one another as they swirled in a blurring cloud, reigned over rational thought, pulling you further into your mind, drowning in its storm.

Yet as your nerves thrummed brother your skin, their shouts like that of a million beating drums pounding against your skull, a familiar scent invaded your senses, pulling you from the spiral.

Pine and mint.

The smell you had come to associate with kind touches and loud laughs. Bright smiles and easy conversations after hours of silence. Sharp and cutting through the haze of emotion as your head snapped to the source.

A sweatshirt left on the back of one of the island chairs, the inky fabric making it blend into the material of the seat.

Johnny’s.

You recognized by the Scottish flag embroidered just below the collar, a calling of its owner. He had a habit of leaving his clothes wherever he shed them, leaving you to slip on various socks and shirts when you weren’t paying attention. It was annoying, but this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to curse his messy nature, instead stumbling to the garment and pressing it to your face without thought, inhaling as much of the scent as you could.

Like a dog, there was no way to get close enough as you buried your face in the fabric, mouth open and panting to get every trace possible, letting it creep into every crevice, wrap its sticky little fingers around each groove. Much like its owner every time he hauled you from your isolation to join them.

Eventually, either from the scent or the fact you were effectively suffocating yourself, your pulse started to slow, ebbing to a calmer pace as your head cleared. With the release of panic came realization, the once soft fabric now offending and scratchy against your skin, tossing it away like a hot iron.

A shudder rolled through you, a result of coming down from the emotional high and disgust at your own actions, mortified that you had done such a thing, purposely seeking comfort in the scent of an Alpha. The only saving grace was that none of them had been there to witness it, unable to even imagine dealing with their pitying looks and questions. Simon’s anger would be welcome at that point, if only to avoid the embarrassment.

Instead you turned back to the source, eyeing the cream envelope with venom. The longer you stared the more your emotions morphed. From paralyzing fear and shame, to a smoldering burn that blazed to life.

How dare they?

To think after all this time they could just come back, act as if everything was alright when it was clear the contact had only been prompted by the news of your courting. Not a whisper, no call or text for any holiday or special occasion, iced out of everything, and now that there was an Alpha in the picture it was enough to prompt a response. You weren’t good enough to reach out to, but some stranger was?

The paper crinkled, quickly torn apart in your hands, shredded into dozens of pieces in a cathartic destruction. Not a single word could change your mind, and you wouldn’t hear anything as such.

When there was nothing left to destroy, the words unread and little more than confetti, you grabbed the broom to sweep up the remains. Before tossing them in the trash you drown the paper in water, ensuring not an inch of the ink was left that wasn’t bleeding together into an illegible mess. There were others in the house after all, people who liked poking their nose into your business even when they didn’t need to, and none of them had any business knowing yours even if they had enough patients to put the scraps back together.

For good measure you covered it with a few other items, ensuring it was out of view. That didn’t mean it was out of mind however, feeling as if the bin itself was announcing the secret inside, gaze drawn back each time you passed and you had half a mind just to take it out to the bin and be done with it.

Kyle came home shortly after, and if he noticed the way your words were more clipped than normal he didn’t say anything even as his attention lingered more than normal, taking in each movement with a calculating precision.

The confirmation for your account would come a few days later, John dropping the envelope in your lap when he brought in the mail, his eyes curious but unquestioning as he turned back to the rest of the stack. You were just glad to see the computer produced address instead of neat, slanted handwriting.
___________________________________________

It was early in the morning, judging by the dim glow of the sun coming in through the window, giving just enough light to make out the outlines within the room. Blearly rubbing away sleep, you jumped as a voice whispered through the air.

“Sorry lass, the heater seems to be having a bit of trouble.”

Johnny crept along the wall, steps surprising light in his efforts to leave you as undisturbed as possible even as the creaking of the utility door cuts the silence, more pitched than the birds starting to call outside. It was early for him to be up on the weekend, sleep clogging his voice and the worn clothes hanging on his frame telling he must have just awoken. It was a bit embarrassing at first how much he seemed to walk around in nothing more than boxers and a t-shirt, the neck wide enough to show off his mating marks. They must have things to do today if he was up this early.

“Don’t worry about it.” Waving him off, your feet kicked over the side of the bed, slipping out and jumping as they made contact with the frosty floor. Shivering, fingers search through the dim light of the space, crawling through the fabric of the sheets until closing around the well-loved garment, slipping your arms through the sleeves and being careful not to catch it on any of the stray strings or holes that punctured the threads, the ends beginning to fray from wear. It had been old even when first packing it away with the other clothes that would act as your wardrobe while serving your sentence at the camp.

The inner lining had long ago lost its fuzzy feel, worn down and matted together into a pulled mess, yet it still provided the sense of comfort you sought. At first it had simply been a reminder of what awaited at the end, something to go back to, to hold out for. Dragged across oceans and continents. It continues to dutifully serve its purpose even now. Sometimes, late at night, as you swayed between the words of sleep and consciousness, you could swear you could still smell the scent of the others worn into the fabric.

Johnny watches, pausing as he crouches by the heater, hands sliding along the sides as he struggles to make out any visible issues on the dated unit. Annoying as it was, shouting at all odd hours of the night as it struggled to push out heat, it was more so to be woken with a cold stream of air where the blanket had slipped off.

“Cold?”

You nod, mind still fogged with sleep, drawn further to consciousness as Johnny growls.

“Leaving us here to freeze. Damn maintenance can’t even show up on base. Don’t know why I expected them to do so now.”

He grunts as he yanks a lever, groaning in tandem with the metal. When that doesn’t work he moves to the back, disappearing from view while cracking open another panel.

You watch, curious as to if he could really fix the heater. Did being able to defuse explosives make you knowledgeable with mechanics in general? In any case, it was quite the sight as a number of curses reached you, a painful sounding thud as Johnny jerks his hand back, banging his head on the edge of the unit in the process.

“Ya’ bastard!” Johnny growls, rubbing at his head as he pouts and kicks at the tank. His efforts are rewarded a moment later, pipes creaking as the machine kicks to life.

“Not much heating down here, but I’m not complaining. I’ve slept on the forest floor and then in a shipping crate for the past few months, so this is luxury.”

Johnny’s eyes flick from you to the bed, taking in the thin crumpled sheets a singular pillow that rests in the corner you previously had been curled up in. It's hard to tell from the dark and distance, but his mouth sets in a firm line, arms crossed with a similar stiffness.

“You sure you’re fine?”

His concern was fair, but you found yourself at a bit of a stalemate when it came to blankets.

The first week you had searched the house’s main floor and basement, looking for a single scrap that could serve to make your space a bit more comfortable only to come up empty handed. Since arriving, the only other blankets you had seen were those in the nest upstairs and there was no way you were going to risk being caught up there again. Simon had made sure his scent drenched every scrap of fabric in the house, and you would rather freeze than have that man’s scent anywhere near your bed. The gloating he held each time you emerged from the basement in search of warmth heated you plenty, knowing you would never ask for any of them to buy anything for you.

Despite your previous assurances, Johnny still eyed your surroundings with suspicion. “I thought Omegas liked to have a nest. Comforting and all that.”

Was he being serious right now? Did he not understand how utterly ridiculous his words were, or did he just not grasp the reality of the situation?

“How am I supposed to get materials? I don’t even know where the closest store is, and it’s not like I have a phone since they took mine.”

“Ah. I See.”

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. Your chest tightened, unsure whether to push back, laugh at the absurdity, or simply shrink into yourself. You weren’t sure who was more uncomfortable, you or him. Had he really been so unaware of your situation?

“We’re going out to grab some groceries later today.” He shifted his weight, looking anywhere but at you as he spoke. “Do ya’ want to come with us?”

Go with them somewhere other than the house? It wasn’t even a question, the shroud of sleep quickly slipping away at the promise, having waited weeks for them to hint at going anywhere other than work, a majority of their food bought on the way back in the afternoon.

“Sure. Since I have my card all squared away I should be able to get some things. Just let me know when you’re going to leave, alright?”

Johnny nodded, pausing on the last step and taking one last look around, his scent taking on a sour note despite his success with the water heater, before heading up.

What a weirdo.

But a man of his word. Not that you ever doubted that with the promises he had already kept, glad for the vindication that your assumption had been spot on so far in trusting him. He didn’t seem to be malicious, genuinely surprised at the sparse nature of your room. None of them had come down since the first week, a silent respect of your privacy just as you did theirs as the house was divided into three sections; the second floor which belonged to them, the basement which had been assigned as your own territory, and the ground level which acted in effect to a neutral zone. Without a breach of the borders there was no cause for conflict, your little nations remaining at peace with one another.

Though you had never explicitly stated the desire to have them stay out, knowing it would be impossible for them to do so all the time in cases such as this, they still respected the silent claim.

The squeeze into the car was an event on its own, Johnny and Kyle residing up front while you settled in the back after Johnny had cleared enough space to sit, the familiar clicking of cans from where they had been hastily pushed to the floor to make room to sit in the back as Kyle pulled out of the driveway. It had been a relief upon hearing that he would be driving, unsure if you trusted Johnny to get you there in one piece. The trip from the hospital here had been enough of an experience, and heading into more populated areas was stressful to even think about.

“Trust me, we keep him and Simon away from the wheel as much as possible. Don’t have time for them to take any more remedial courses.” Kyle laughed, snatching the keys from the hook before Johnny could, much to his annoyance.

“I’m not that bad.” He whined, trailing behind as you headed out. The other car was already gone, Kyle mentioning something about them being gone for the week for a briefing of some sort. It put you a bit more at ease to know that Simon would be gone so at least there wouldn’t be any need to sneak around.

“So, what do you need?” Johnny turned, arm holding Kyle’s headrest while his seatbelt strained against the movement, leaving him looking back at an awkward angle. But even with the way his body contorted in his seat, his limbs held a relaxed pull to them, resting as easy as the curious smile and blue eyes that craned around the seat.

Your room wasn’t awful by any means, but it lacked anything of substance, only consisting of the bare basics you had arrived with. Even if it wasn’t forever you it still felt important for it to be decorated to some level. To have some representation of something that was yours after nearly a year of temporary living, always on the move from one place to another at the behest of one captor or another.

“Some clothes and blankets. Shampoo and a few other basics.”

“You could have just said you were out.” Johnny frowned. “We would have taken you.”

And he would have. There was never a doubt about that. Even Kyle or John would have been an option. They were kind in their own ways, offering what they could when they could, more mindful of the lines you had drawn than Johnny, who seemed more oblivious than anything.

After an offhanded observation about your nailbeds being a bit blue from the chill of the house, cupped reverently around a warm cup right after venturing up from the basement, Kyle had come home with a blanket he said was an extra from a recruiting event in the area. Apparently Simon wasn’t a fan of the material and they already had enough of their own, of which you had your own doubts as the soft fabric slid beneath your touch. Similarly, John had tossed a sweatshirt your way, claiming he had ordered it a few sizes too small, and none of them would fit it while returning would be more of a hassle than it was worth. It was generic and plain, but joined the meager collection in the dresser downstairs alongside the outfits Johnny had dropped on you after realizing you were wearing the same thing every week.

All you had to do was ask.

But that was the most difficult thing. To voice the words around the lump of hesitance that always held you back, allowing even the slightest possibility to become indebted to them. Allow you to become too attached.

Pulling into the parking lot and stepping out of the car, the building is nothing impressive. Similar to every other all-in-one shop you had been to before. Not as exciting, but much less daunting than having to make multiple stops.

Walking ahead of the two, the doors part to let you in with a quiet hiss, the fan above the door blowing a soft current of air.

It's astonishing, how a sight that had before been so mundane now seemed like a luxury. Too long has it been since you’ve seen such a surplus of supplies, all stacked neatly in a row and ready for the taking. No rustling through the undergrowth looking for anything even remotely edible, feasting on plants or begging for scraps from your overseers.

In your pause Kyle and Johnny had caught up, rolling past with a cart already in hand.

“It’s not much, but the best you can get this close to base.” Kyle shrugged, already snagging a bottle off the shelf and tossing it into the cart. You hesitate, overwhelmed with the number of choices presented after months of none. The air was sterile in its own way, scent cyclers dotting the ceiling every so often, keeping the space from becoming too overwhelming. It was nice in a way, to not be constantly attacked by scents as you were in the house. Not that any of them had particularly offensive ones, apart from Simon’s, which still hit like a punch each time it crept up on you, but after a while it became overwhelming. Especially when it was none of the scents you found yourself searching for. It wasn’t Rick or Shay, though Johnny carried a similar tone to his natural musk. The jacket Shay had given you had long ago lost its scent, leaving you to imagine that they were there, grabbing at threads to find comfort.

Where to start? Maybe grabbing some snacks to keep down in your own space? Though that might invite rodents if you don't have a container for them as well. New bathroom supplies were in order as well. If you had to go through another week of smelling like a mystifying, musty, nothingness you would go insane. And then there was-

“How about we start with some proper bedding?” Johnny interrupts your thoughts, nodding in the direction of the mentioned items.

“Yeah. Bedding.”

Following, you take the isles one at a time, the stack in the cart gradually increasing. Neither rush you, only providing a few commentary on some of the things they pick out, as well as providing opinions whenever asked. Pillows and blankets stacked up quickly. More than you even had back in your apartment. But with how stressed you had been these past few months a bit of pampering could be excused. Besides, it's not like you are spending your days at work now, often lounging in bed and napping in an effort to rid yourself of the ever present exhaustion that seemed to plague you.

It was still hard to sleep at night, opting to doze when the sun was out and the corners seemed to hold less shifting monsters. When you could lounge in the hammock John had set up, big enough for multiple people and perfect to lounge and nap in.

It was while going through the bedding isles that a display of brightly colored fabric caught your eye. From top to bottom for about six feet were dozens of plushies ranging from little more than marshmallow bodies to almost hyper realistic. They looked soft, and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out to touch them.

While not an avid collector, you had a number of them on your bed back home. Mostly gifts from friends or little memorabilia purchased on trips. There was something different about coming home and sinking into their plush embrace, softening the wall against your back as you slept.

“Do you want one for your nest?”

You startle, seeing Johnny standing closer than you had realized, the smell of pine infiltrating your senses. He waved away your stuttering excuses.

“No need to be embarrassed. It’s good to have something to hold onto at night.”

He stepped up, scanning the shelves in thought.

“Aha!” He pulled one off the shelf, turning to present the plush object like a child showing off a cool rock.

“What about this one?”

In his hands was one of the ugliest unicorns you had ever seen. The body was an off shade of green, while the horn seemed to have been sewn on an inch too short. Its white mane stuck up in every odd direction, and even its eyes seemed to be off from one another. Its ears were a bit too large for the body making it appear more like a donkey than a horse.

You looked from Johnny to the plush, then back again.

“Do I look like I’m five to you? That’s the most childish thing you could have picked”

The Alpha gasped, pulling the creature close. His hands covered its ears as if it might hear you.

“Childish? I’ll have ye know the unicorn’s the national beast of Scotland! Aye, a mighty, majestic creature that’s been on the royal coat o’ arms for centuries! How could a horse with a bloody great weapon on its head not be the most perfect thing ye’ve ever seen? And look!”

He gives the plush a shake, the sound of shifting beads muffled through the soft fabric.

“It’s weighted! Ye cannae get much better than that!”

“Right,” you draw the word out slowly, edging around him as he admires the stuffed creature like it’s a priceless relic. “I’m going to go find Kyle, so… you have fun with that.”

“Huh? Oi, wait!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Johnny chased after you, earning a few glances from the other shoppers.

It felt strange to be shopping again. Even before everything had gone downhill, you’d never been much of a spender. Scraping through college, juggling rent and ramen, and later surviving on whatever salary your employers decided an Omega’s work was worth. After all, why would an Omega need a proper wage? Surely there was a mate somewhere to help offset the cost. You’d heard the same patronizing line a dozen times over. It was irritating to have to fight for even a livable wage, let alone the fact that if you want a ‘fun job’, you might have chosen something a bit less stressful and time consuming.

And yet here you were, standing in a fluorescent-lit aisle, debating over shampoo as your biggest concern.

Your hand hovered between rows of bottles, drawn toward the crisp scent of citrus and pine that reminded you too much of the two men waiting nearby. You turned away before the thought could linger, focus snagging on a brightly colored bottle boasting a collage of fruits. It passed the sniff test when you popped the lid, the scent sweet and harmless. Something that felt safely yours.
You tucked it under your arm and started back down the aisle. The low murmur of shoppers and the hum of the lights filled the sterile quiet as you passed rows of neat shelves and glinting product labels. Walking back down the aisle, you catch sight of the pharmacy, only a short line to the counter.

Suppressants had been on your mind for weeks now. An ever-present worry simmering beneath the surface. The thought of going into heat again clung to you like a shadow, persistent and heavy. When you’d first been enrolled into the reform program, they’d injected you with something potent. A medicinal cocktail strong enough to suppress any heat for a good long while, ensuring there wouldn’t be any inconvenient flare-ups. Whatever they had given you had worked and it was only a shame you couldn’t get it under normal circumstances. Between the medication and the constant stress, your body had stayed dormant.

But now you found yourself falling into a rhythm, comfortable despite the circumstance and company. Comfortable was dangerous. Comfortable meant your body might remember what it had been denied.

Kylle and Johnny were deep in discussion about which movie to watch that night, as was ritual for them on Saturdays, debates on genres and snacks giving you enough confidence to slip away unnoticed. Hopefully they would just think you had gone off looking for something on your own which wasn’t entirely untrue.

The line moved quickly, finding yourself in front of the counter, and on the opposite side of a glass wall. Despite not being able to pick up any scents due to the barrier It was easy to assume that the worker wearing a pristine lab coat was a beta, her jaw holding the telltale sign an extra set of fangs, just as Kyle’s did.

“Can I help you?” Her tone wasn't impolite, but held a clipped edge. Like a parent catching a child about to do something they shouldn't be. Regardless, you still put on your best smile, hoping to make this situation as seamless as possible.

“I was just hoping to grab some suppressants.”

The change was instant. Her brow arched, and your stomach dropped. You knew that look. The one that always came before a fight you never wanted to have.

“Do you have a prescription for that?”

You nearly laugh. As if it were that simple. Very few doctors would even entertain the idea of giving an unmated Omega suppressants. The ones who did had waitlists that stretched months out, and the reform program had stripped you of access to your old physician anyway. Any record of your prescription would’ve been lost in the process, locked behind bureaucracy and distance.

“No, but-”

“And where is your mate?” Her gaze cut past you, looking for anybody that could possibly be with you, only to come up short. Green eyes darted back, piercing with annoyance. She sighed as if she was the one being inconvenienced, before fixing you with another hard stare.

“If you want suppressants, you’ll need either a prescription or your mate present.” She sighed dramatically, as if you were the one inconveniencing her. “If you don’t have those, then—”

It was your turn to cut her off, Years of customer service work Keeping the annoyance from your tone. A rigid smile plastered on your face as you pointed to the shelf behind her, a bottle nearly hidden behind countless others.

“Actually, Olol doesn't need a prescription. It's kept behind the counter so that people don't steal and sell it.”

Her head snapped back to the bottle before her attention turned back to you. Her annoyance evident even without her scent.

“That may be, but I'm not going to give you them regardless.”

“What? Why?”

You could feel yourself getting worked up, doing your best to keep your scent under control to avoid attracting too much attention. Even before it had been a fight every single time you went to the pharmacy, Yet each time you emerged victorious. It was well known among omegas. Who sought out suppressants and had difficulty getting them prescribed that the medication could be given if asked for. It was low grade, nothing too strong, but enough to work as long as you didn't subject yourself to the presence of alphas about to go into heat on a frequent basis. There should be no reason you couldn't have them now.

“Because I don't want to.” She shrugged, gesturing to a sign in the corner of the window, proudly proclaiming the refusal of service for any reason.

You took a breath, then another. You’d been here before. This exact conversation, this same power play. The difference was that before, you’d always managed to win. Every Omega who’d had to fight for access to suppressants knew the rules. Stay calm, stay sweet, stay small. Don’t give them a reason to say no.

“Please, I just need my suppressants. Then we can both be off on our merry ways.” Tried reasoning with her, though you had the sneaking suspicion that it would get you nowhere. There is no reason for her to not like you. You just met for crying out loud!

“I don't know.” Humming, she leaned as close as the glass would let her, smug as she rested her chin on her hand. “Don't you think it's pretty rude to get suppressants without consulting with your mate? How do I know you're not just sneaking off and doing this without their permission?”

You could feel your skin getting hotter, anger bubbling up despite your efforts to keep it contained. You couldn't afford to lose your cool now or else there was zero chance of getting the suppressants, if there even was one in the first place.

Gritting your teeth, you did your best to smile and seem the demure Omega you had played before.

“My mate and I are just trying to be smart and plan things out to line up with our schedules. I just-”

“No.” Humored no longer, the Beta leaned away from the counter, arms crossed in defiance, posture stiff. “Listen, if you don’t leave now I’ll get security to come and drag you out. Go find your suppressants somewhere else because-”

“There you are!”

Your stomach flipped despite the cheerful tone, turning to see Johnny practically jogging over.Upon reaching you, he tossed a casual arm over your shoulder. Despite the movement you could see the concern in his eyes, and it was only then that you realized how much your scent had projected, the sour tone invading your normally sweet scent. A signal that put all others in the area on alert, apart from the pharmacist who stood safely behind the glass. Already a few heads had turned your way, looking for the source.

“We thought we lost ya’. It nearly gave me a panic attack.” Gesturing over his shoulder, you saw gaz waiting at the end of the isle, casually leaning on the cart. His brow rose as soon as you met his gaze.

“Kyle thought you might have run off here.”

Johnny laughed, turning to the counter and greeting the worker with a smile, leaving his canines on perfect display and leaving no question to his designation. “Good on you for reminding me though. Need to pick up my prescription, so we crab grab ‘em both.”

He reached into his pocket, grabbing his ID and sliding it through the flap. The Beta said nothing, grabbing the plastic card and typing the information into the computer, muttering questions about date of birth.

In less than three minutes she was sending a crisp paper bag back through, his prescription rattling along with your requested bottle. It was evident that she wasn’t happy to do so. You grabbed the bag before she could take it back, tossing a tight ‘thanks’ over your shoulder as you sped away. Johnny was hot on your heels, following you back to where Kyle waited with the cart.

He gazed at the bag, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“Do you mind if I-?”

You hesitated, before passing the bag to him. It’s not like it was some big secret to have that you took suppressants. Especially if you would need one of them to accompany you to get them.

Peeking inside, you felt a wave of anxiety rise along with his brow. He inspected the bottle as its contents rattled, carefully reading the label. Flinching as he huffs. Was he mad?

“Really scrapping the bottom of the barrel with this one. Didn’t even know this brand still existed. I hear it has some pretty awful side effects.”

“It’s cheap. And I'm not supposed to need anyone's approval for it.”

Feet kicking at the shiny tiled floors, you avoid their gaze. It's embarrassing even when you know it shouldn’t be. Lots of people take suppressants. Seventy-eight percent of all people who had presented took them on a regular basis. It was still a largely taboo subject, and even if you had gone into extensive conversation with other Omegas about it you had never discussed it with an Alpha. Or even a Beta for that matter.

Johnny tilts his head in curiosity as he looks over Kyle’s shoulder.

“We could get you something better if you want?”

“That’s not needed!”

They both startled, allowing you to swipe the bottle and shove it into your pocket. It was embarrassing enough to have to have Johnny get it for you, and now they were fretting over getting you better ones?

“I’ve always had this brand. If I switch now it’ll only be worse when I have to switch back when I’m on my own again.”

They both hesitated, looking at one another in silent conversation. Unable to take the silence you started walking away. A random direction that would get you away from their suffocating concern. The wheels of the cart squealed, picking up speed as their footsteps fell in with your own.

The rest of the trip went by quickly, keeping a mental tally in your head of everything that you were getting. By the time that you made it up to the checkout the cart was heaped with things you had all tossed in, though most of it belonged to you. So much, in fact, that Johnny had been forced to get another cart to fit everything. It was a bigger chunk of expenses, but as long as you were careful your savings should be enough to make due for the time being. You could talk with Johnny about getting a job as well. Something to supply you with enough spending money for the month.

Rolling up to the register you began picking your own things out of the cart only to be surprised as your two companions started piling their own things on the conveyor belt. Johnny tossed the plastic bar you had put down with the intention to separate your items.

“No need for that.” He reached over you, easily evading your attempts to put the barrier back in place.

“How am I supposed to pay for my things?” You question, still trying in vain to separate your items, Kyle now blocking the way as Johnny continued piling everything together. All the snack and shelf stable items you had carefully selected with cost and rationing in mind mixed in with protein powder and meat cuts.

“You’ve already done enough. I can pay for my own things.”

He only chuckled, reaching into his pocket and producing his credit card with a flourish.

“Don’t worry about it lass. We get a stipend for your expenses.”

The cashier was no help. In fact he seemed more amused by the antics than anything as Kyle grabbed your wallet when you tried to puch past him to pay, holding it high above your head. There was little to do unless you wanted to climb up high enough to grab it back, and you had already caused enough of a commotion to attract attention that had you nervous.

“Must be a generous stipend."

Grumbling, you accepted defeat as the clerk printed out the receipt. A thin strip of paper hastily crumpled up and shoved into Johnny’s pocket, leaving a lump in his jeans.

_________________________________________________

“What are we doing here?”
You stare up at the storefront in curiosity. It's a strip mall. Dozens of signs and posters all proclaiming their wears. Some you recognize while others are foreign, little more than squiggles and nonsensical words.

The only others that occupy the area are a handful of teenagers all gathered around the front of a SUV. Apart from a few curious glances they don’t pay you any mind, quickly huddling back into their group to talk among themselves. It's easy to tell they haven’t presented yet. They’re too casual around each other. Not huddled together like new Omegas for safety, nor posturing and fighting as Alphas within a social circle. You might have mistaken their lax nature for Betas if not for the lack of evidence of their secondary teeth.

They must be late bloomers you surmise. Presentation age was normally around sixteen and they seemed the age, especially if they were driving. Separate from their peers who had already begun to find their places in life. You could remember your own time well, feeling as if everyone else had presented while you remained the same. Each morning you would measure your fangs, looking for any sign of growth, or inspecting each tooth for looseness as secondary canines grew in. No doubt they did the same.

But for now they were simply young teens having fun.

“You need clothes, right?”

Kyle opens the door for you and Johnny with the latter leading the way leaving you to follow blindly.

True. You had the same five outfits on rotation and no doubt by this point at least one or more had taken notice. It wasn’t that bad as long as you were able to do laundry at least once a week, and it was one less thing to worry about choosing an outfit every day.

“I’m fine.” Your protest falls on deaf ears, Johnny simply raising a brow and snorting.

“You're practically threadbare.”

Gesturing at your shirt, you look down to see a few strings coming from the hem, the fabric a bit pilled but still wearable.

“It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah yeah’” Johnny waves his hand. “It's too hot to wear long sleeves all the time, and you'll want something warmer for the winter. If you don’t pick, I'll grab something.”

“We assumed you would want to pick it out yourself but didn’t want to overwhelm you.” Kyle says. “You know, let you get settled in and everything.”

You want to argue but you know there’s no point in even trying to win against the two of them. Not only that but they do have a point. A few Tshirts to keep cool while lounging in the sun and some sweaters to enjoy when the weather shifts would be nice. Besides, when was the last time you were able to go shopping?

Looking around, you started off towards the back of the store, already on the lookout. It might be a different store and brands than you were used to, but they had to have some similarities to the ones you were used to, right? If they followed the normal layouts then what you were looking for should be right around here somewhere.

Aha!

Grinning victoriously you stopped before the rack tucked into the back corner, your two companions nearly bumping into you.

“Find something?” Kyle asks as he peers over Johnny’s shoulder.

“Gentlman,” you grin, gesturing to the line of clothing. “May I introduce you to the return rack.”

The metal bars are lined with clothing of all kinds, barely sorted by size and nothing by type as shirts, pants, and dresses all mix together. They seem inoffensive at first, but the closer you get reveals the reason for their discounted price.

Each Item is something that has been bought and returned. In tact enough to accept but far too drenched in scents to sell at a normal price with the shops too cheap to wash them. The best place to find clothes if you don’t mind putting a bit of work in to get the scents out. It was hard to remember a single item you hadn’t gotten from such a rack, finding a sort of therapy in searching through the sea of smells to then spend the next few days getting every trace of the previous owner out of them. Clothes in stores are normally descended at regular intervals throughout the day but these are far too scented for the cloying spray to be of any help.

Besides, it was hard to resist such a good sale.

“Ya’ can’t be serious.”

“What? You may get a stipend, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be smart about my purchases.”

You turn and begin sorting through the clothes, nose wrinkling as you flick the hanger past quickly. Normally it would be easier to rub some vaseline on your lip but you would simply have to deal with it for now.

It’s not as extensive as you’re used to but you still manage to find a few pieces. Nothing to consider it a full wardrobe but enough to not have to do laundry so often anymore. Its relaxing in its own way unlike shopping at the store. Here you’re not focused solely on necessities. Instead you take your time investigating each piece in careful consideration, fretting mind taking a back seat as you relax to the soft music of the speakers playing above. Some modern pop music that has each song blending into one another in their similarity to create an endless tune that gives no indication of how long you spend going through the racks.

A particularly soft shade of blue catches your eye, wedged between a bright red shirt and animal print pants.

‘Shay would like this.’ You muse, the thought rising before you can stop it.

Indeed the Omega would have liked the rather plain jacket, going on endlessly about how their best colors were always blues and talking about the differences of each shade and how to pair them. The cotton was heavy. Warm. Perfect to be kept on the back of an office chair during the winter months.

But he would never wear it. He wasn’t here. Despite asking about him and the others after waking up you had received no answer. Just assurance that they were safe back with their families. No chance to open up communication or reach out. No number or email. Nothing to talk with the only person who had been a constant source of comfort since you had been stuck in the program together.

You swallow thickly, throat tight as the multitude of colors start to blur together. Fuck. You have to get a hold of yourself before they notice. The store isn’t exactly the most ideal place to start crying. The heavy layers of other scents and sterile dissenting spray must be the only reason they haven’t picked up on your own distressed scent. Kyle seems distracted in his own browsing and Johnny is busy tapping at his phone screen with one hand while his other holds a basket overflowing with clothes.

You clear your throat, gaining their attention as you toss the final item into the basket.

“I should be good for now.”

“Ya sure?” Johnny peeks at the basket, hefting it in his hands with ease.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go?” Kyle asks.

You think about it, tempted to peak around the outlet mall a bit more and see what there is. But it’s already getting late and your stomach is cramping with hunger at the thought of all the snacks that awaited in the car.

The trip back is silent save for the low murmur of the radio. Instead you stare out the window and doze, tired from the outing. The bags crinkle under the pressure of the air conditioning creating a white noise.

John and Simon aren’t there when you get back though Kyle assures you it's nothing to worry about.

“They’ll be back before Monday. Even if they do finish today they'll probably stay on base to get some paperwork done.”

“Don’t they have their offices here?” You question. One of which being the bedroom Simon had emptied out to make room for his.

Kyle only shakes his head.

“They can’t handle everything from home. Some of it is only on base computers for security reasons.”

“Ah. I guess that makes sense.” You pause. “So like, do they have top secret files on stuff that’s supposed to be all hush hush and black lines?”

“Something like that.” Kyle chuckles, ruffling your hair as you try to duck away. “Nothing you need to worry about though.”

It takes multiple trips to get everything into the house with how full the car had been. After getting all the groceries put away you begin moving everything you got for your room downstairs. It was a bit funny to see your Spartan accommodations now littered with plastic bags overspilling with your purchases.

“Well, I’m sure you’re eager to start getting things all set up. Let us know if you need any help. We’ll be upstairs if you need anything.” Kyle huffs as he sets down the last of the bags, stretching his arms crossed with red lines from the number of bags held on them just moments ago. He tugs Johnny behind him as he heads towards the stairs. The latter seems as if he wants to protest but isn’t given the opportunity with the Beta’s quick retreat.

You shuffle between the minefield of bags towards your bed, dropping down with a heavy sigh. Exhaustion pulled at your bones, mind already feeling far away as soon as you closed your eyes. Not the normal aching tiredness that never seemed to go away, but the familiar bone-tired tug you got after working too late and coming in too early.

It was funny. You used to spend hours a day working tirelessly. Staying long enough for the overtime to give accounting a headache and test the supply of unlimited coffee in the break room. Now you were tired just from a simple outing.

A nap wouldn’t be out of the question, would it?

There are proper pajamas in the bags, along with new blankets, yet you can find it within yourself to go search for them. Instead you simply let your eyes drift shut, allowing the weight to lift as you drift.

You don’t sleep long. Only enough for the last of the sunlight to fade from the high window to be left in the darkness as your eyes shoot open. If only for a brief moment you see the remnants of your dream. Nothing you can remember clearly. Only a vague feeling of unease left in their place. Haunting in the dark as you stumble up to find the lightswitch.

The fluorescent flickers to life leaving you to blink away the pain of its brilliance. Everything is just how you had left it, save for the few bags disturbed by your struggle across the room as they attempted to trip you.

The clock on the wall reads nearly midnight. There’s no point in trying to go back to sleep, the panic of your waking leaving you too wired to even think about it. Instead you decided to focus your restless energy on starting to unpack the bags. Maybe once you had made the place a little more your own you would feel at ease and the nightmares would lessen, if only a bit.

When you attempt to switch out the light bulb you find the that the cord is too far out of reach even as you balance on the very edge of the mattress. Finally you conceded defeat, lopping down onto the mattress. Maybe in the morning you could ask either of the other two to get it for you or at the very least find something you could step on to reach it. In the meantime you settle on using the lamp you had gotten, the indirect lighting much softer on your eyes as you move about putting your clothes away. Each item is folded and hung with care as the closet fills.

When you get to the blue sweatshirt you hesitate before skipping it on. The soft cotton is warm despite the chilly blue hue it’s made of. A real bargain even if the descenter still clinging to it tickles your nose. It’ll fade soon enough.

The bed is stripped and replaced with new sheets and blankets. It looks less bare now and infinitely more inviting with the multitude of pillows greedily stacked on one other. A rug sits in front of the bed with a pair of slippers nestled to the side, now shielding you from the cold chill of the cement floor.

Just when you think you're finished you notice another bag. It's heavier than you expected, nearly dropping it as you grab it from the floor, then again as you see what's inside.

It’s the unicorn from the store. Its beady lopsided eyes stare back at you, the rice inside shifting in your grasp. Johnny must have put it in when you weren’t looking, the sly bastered. Sinking back down onto the bed you let the weighted fabric settle down on your chest.

The funny creature stares back at you with its lopsided face and looking just as ridiculous as it had before. Despite yourself a smile tugs at your lips. It’s dumb. Something that you would never have even thought about getting before, yet it does provide a sense of comfort in its own way. Something to hold close that feels a bit more real. Vaguely you wonder if you could put it in the microwave to heat it up a bit. Now that would be quite the luxury.

A deep rumble disturbs your thoughts, stomach cramping in protest at skipping dinner. Closing your eyes, you try to ignore it until the growing pain becomes too great. If there’s any hope of getting back to sleep then you’ll have to find something to eat.

Sneaking up the stairs reveals no lights or sounds. Johnny and Kyle must have gone to bed already. As long as you’re quiet it shouldn’t be a problem. Just grab a few snacks to quell the grumbling of your stomach and head back down.

It’s not hard to find the fridge but opening it up proves to be a mistake as the light makes you flinch. Half-blind you quickly grab the milk carton from the door. Just as you’re about to shut the door your eye catches a flash of neon. Sitting front and center on the shelf is a plate with tinfoil over it, your name on a sticky note with a wobbly smiley face underneath.

Grabbing the plate with caution, you peel the tinfoil back and peek underneath to see a plate of alfredo underneath. On top are a few breadsticks you recognize from one of the boxes Johnny had tossed in the cart. The sight is mouthwatering in your hungry state, quickly closing the door and tossing the plate in the microwave after tossing the tinfoil away.

While the plate spins under the warm glow of the lights you return to search for your initial meal plan.

The cabinets are a bit more difficult, having to search them multiple times thanks to your ruined night vision and having no idea where everything had been put away. You’re half-tempted to give up when you finally find it.

Stacked on top of a few other boxes are the Oreos, their blue packaging unmistakable as you carefully pull them out. Each crinkle has you on edge as you try to peel back the top with the least amount of noise. Just enough to sneak a handful from the rows before putting it back. You’re just finishing pouring a glass of milk when the microwave finishes, the earplitting sound cutting through the silent kitchen like a gunshot that has you diving for the appliance. The scent of cheese and pepper has you nearly drooling, quickly digging into the plate at the island without even bothering to sit down. It’s not perfect, too hot in some spots while barely heated in others, but it tastes amazing as you chow down. Even more so when you dip the breadsticks into the sauce.

Finishing the plate you take a bit more time with the Oreos, carefully twisting them apart and eating the side with the cream still on it before dunking the bare cookie into your milk. It was a nasty habit you had picked up in college, not enjoying the cookie to filling ratio but being unable to bring yourself to waste food. Rick had always chastised you for the habit, undermined by his mate Quin who gladly ate the plain cookies you otherwise begrudgingly ate.

Waiting for the cookie to soften, you stare out the window above the sink. What were they doing now? It had been impossible to get in contact with anybody after you woke up in the hospital, assured that all proper parties had been informed and technically still in your sentencing that prohibits direct contact with those non-approved.

You take another sip of milk, letting the sweetness settle sharply on your tongue, though it does little to push away the ache creeping in behind your ribs. The quiet of the kitchen only makes the questions louder in your head.
Were Rick and Quin still trying to figure out a way to get you back? Had anyone told them the truth or were they left piecing together rumors and scraps of news, wondering what had happened? The thought twists something deep inside you. They deserved more than silence. They deserved more than a half-empty chair and unanswered questions.
You run your finger along the condensation of your glass, dragging little circles that vanish as quickly as they form. Would they even want to see you now, after everything? Or had the waiting worn them down into something like resentment? Maybe they had finally stopped asking, stopped hoping, moved on in the way people always promise they won’t but inevitably do. They had no obligation to you after all. You were not family by blood or relationship.
You swallow hard and shove another cookie into your mouth, letting the sugar burn away the lump in your throat. It doesn’t work. Even here, miles away, the absence of your friends clings like smoke. And for the first time all day, exhaustion feels like less of a relief and more of a punishment.
You were tired. Tired of being tired. The constant worries that flowed through your mind like a stream
“Figured you might be hungry.”

The voice has you jumping, whipping around to see a dark shadow standing in the doorway. Before you can panic too much they move forward, the light from the window illuminating the face of Johnny. He’s dressed in just a pair of boxers, claws scratching at his skin as he yawns. You search for an answer, flustered at his sudden appearance.

“Kyle will be happy to know you found it. He was worried about you not eating but I figured you would come up eventually. No need to wake ya’.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You finally manage to mumble out, turning back to the window as he pads further into the kitchen. Glasses clink lightly as he riffles through the cabinet. Setting a kettle on to boil, he joins you at the island.

“What’s on your mind?”

“My friends.”

Johnny hums, leaning on his elbows as he stares back, blue eyes piercing in the dark.

“The ones we found with you?”

You shake your head, swallowing thickly as you think back to the others. Apart from Shay you hadn’t thought much about them beyond their safety and a flash of guilt seizes you.

“The ones from my life, you know, before.”

“Just… good friends,” you answer. “They were the only ones who stood up for me during the hearing. I haven’t been able to talk to them since I was sent away. I don’t even know if they know what really happened.”
He tilts his head. “What about your family?”
The question freezes on your tongue. You say nothing, unable to find the words, or more so unwilling. How could you even begin to explain? It never ended well, especially in a society that prioritized relationships so much. It was always the same. Sympathetic questions that poked deeper and deeper. Then the
Yet Johnny doesn’t press. Instead, he grabs the kettle just as it begins to whistle, pouring water into a mug.
“Well,” he says, wrapping his hands around the steaming cup, leaning over the island and snagging a few cookies from their stack on his way out, “don’t stay up too late.”
You watch him go, his footsteps fading up the stairs until the creak of the landing is gone and the house is quiet again. The silence presses in heavier this time, broken only by the ticking clock and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Once more you’re left to your own thoughts, wondering after your friends and now the odd actions of the Alpha.

________________________________

“This isn’t really what I had in mind.” You hesitate, watching the two men as they work to install the lightbulb. They had been more than happy to help, practically jumping from the couch when you had ventured up to ask them this morning. You had stayed up a bit later than intended after your late-night meal, the sun lightening the sky before you managed to fall asleep and leaving you to sleep late into the morning.

Johnny whistled as they descended the last step, looking around the newly decorated room.

Kyle was held by Johnny, the latter's arms wrapped around his waist as he held the Beta up high enough to reach the bulb. He struggled, the hanging light swinging about as he attempted to put the light in.

“You’ve got ‘te be easy on him lass. Not the most coordinated.”

“If you would hold still it would be a whole lot easier.” Kyle huffed, finally managing to get the bulb in and dropped to the ground. The room, now much brighter and inviting, was once again.

“Thanks for the help. I didn’t want to drag a chair all the way down here.”
“Anytime.” Johnny laughed. “There’s not much use for us if we can’t even put in a light now is there?”

“It’s not too bad down here for you then?” Kyle asked as he looked around.

“Nothing to complain about.”

You stood awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

“Wait here a second!” He was bounding up the stairs before you could stop him. Kyle only laughed, sparing a glance your way before turning back to the stairs. Before you could question it, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps followed by a few curse words as Johnny once again reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't return empty handed, however. In his arms he held a moderate sized TV. Nothing excessively large but not a small box thing either.

He set it down on the dresser, quickly plugginging it in and turning it on.

“Saw one of the neighbors getting rid of theirs and figured you might want one to watch when you can’t sleep at night. I know Simon can be a bit of a remote hog, And you're probably getting a bit tired of football by now.” Johnny explained as he logged into the various apps, setting up a profile of your own for you to use in each.

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say, stunned at the unexpected gift. “Thank you. I guess I have a lot of shows to catch up on.”

“Don’t mention it! But that’s not the only thing I’ve got for ya’.”

Digging through his pockets, he finally pulled out a phone. It wasn’t the plain black block case you had come to recognize as his, nor any of the others. Instead this one was sleek and thin, the vase a muted grey with a clear back on it.

“Figured you would need one in case you ever need to get in touch with us. Should have gotten you one sooner but I thought you might have gotten your own back with your belongings.”
Gently taking the phone, you stare down at the phone in your hands, hardly trusting it’s real. The smooth weight of it feels foreign, like holding something you aren’t supposed to touch.For so long, contact had been a closed door—words cut off, letters intercepted, voices silenced before you could even reach for them.
And now here it is.

A lifeline.

A chance.

Your thumb hovers uncertainly over the screen. A knot builds in your throat, half fear, half relief, as you tap the home button. The screen blinks back at you, waiting. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel completely cut off from the rest of the world.

“If you want you can get a different case or-oof!”

The wind is knocked out of Johnny’s lungs as you tackle him in a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and squeezing with every ounce of strength you have. To convey everything you want to say but can’t around the lump of emotion caught in your throat.

“Thank you.” You whisper into his shoulder. He hesitates for a moment, and you worry that you’ve turned the situation awkward, before he hugs you back, grip just as tight. You stay like that for a moment, taking the time to reign you bubbling emotions in once again.

An odd rumble sounds from him. Not the same purring that Omegas produce to comfort others. Betas and alphas lack the proper specialized larynx and hyoid bone to do so, but they make their own sounds. Chuffs that sound like a staccato rumbling thunder. More broken apart and lighter than a growl, but works to sooth. You can tell he’s pleased by the way his pine scent cloys the air, bright and crisp. Though you can only assume your own scent is just as prominent.

“I’m glad you like it.” Kyle cuts in, breaking the spell of silence and prompting you to pull away, now embarrassed. “He got up plenty early to make it to the store in time. Spent two hours trying to decide which one to get you.”

Johnny looks ready to jump the Beta, who seems all too smug at embarrassing his packmate.

“I’m grateful, really.” You interrupt. “It’s more than anyone has done for me in a long time.”

The admission lingers, heavier than you meant it to, until the silence stretches a little too far. Johnny looks away first, rubbing the back of his neck. Kyle clears his throat, shifting his weight.

“Well, glad we could be of help.”

They turn to leave, and a jolt of panic seizes you, the room already feeling emptier without their presence and unwilling to fall back into your isolation once again. To allow the haunting thoughts and memories creeping back in.

Besides, it seemed as if they had extended an olive branch of sorts, and you could extend your own. To help build a bit more trust between you to at least feel more at ease.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out after them, pausing as just as they reach the stairs.

“I have this TV now, and I don't know if I'll be able to access my shows or if they’re religion locked. Maybe you could show me some? Other than sports I mean.”

Johnny pauses first, flashing a crooked grin over his shoulder, while Kyle glances at him as if silently weighing the idea. After a beat, they both turn back with a pep in their step, much to your relief.

You hop onto the bed and quickly scoot to the other side, Kyle taking residence on the other side as Johnny sprawls himself along the bottom by your feet. He glances up, noting the unicorn that sits proudly in your lap now. A corked grin splits his face, interrupted as Kyle chucks a pillow at him.

They argue over what to watch before finally settling on something. A murder mystery of some sort.

The show begins, voices droning low against the soft hum of the heater. The screen’s glow flickers across the room, throwing pale shadows across the blankets, across Johnny’s ever-restless kicking feet and Kyle’s still, relaxed posture as he settles in across the mattress. If it had been anything less than a queen size It might have been a struggle to fit but you managed to all get situated comfortably.
You lean back against the pillows, the unicorn warm and heavy against your stomach. The faintest trace of citrus teases your nose, bright and clean. Beneath it lingers pine, grounding and steady. The blend of the two softens the edges of the room, drawing your body into calm. It was always difficult to pick up your own scent, having grown noseblind to it long ago, and using fragrant candles or waxes had always left you sneezing. You found the presence of other scents was foreign, but not unwelcome.

Johnny mutters a running commentary under his breath, earning another well-aimed pillow from Kyle. You laugh once, but even that sound fades quickly as your eyelids grow heavier. The voices on the TV blur, words melting into static comfort.

It all settles over you like an invisible blanket, smoothing away the restless questions in your chest. You let your head tip back, lashes fluttering once before surrendering fully.

The last thing you hear is Johnny’s low chuckle and Kyle’s exasperated sigh, two sounds layered together like the scents that cling to the air. And then nothing at all, just the pull of sleep carrying you down, safe and warm Into a dreamless sleep.
—--------------------------
You're awoken by a familiar scent. One that sets your nerves on edge. A burning smokyness, light wood after it's just been lit. You bolt upright, eyes quickly sweeping the room before landing on a figure at the bottom of the stairs, one arm sweeping the curtain acting as a door out of the way while the rest of their body morphs into an ambiguous blob.

It's dark out now, meaning that you've slept through most of the afternoon. The overhead light is turned off and only the lamp remains on its warm light only reaching so far throughout the room. The TV has paused, waiting for someone to click on to the next episode.

For one brief moment, you find yourself sent back in time. A feeling of panic and helplessness arising in you as your breath starts to quicken, mind becoming numb.

Shattering glass and snarling threats. Claws that grab at your wrist as blood stains your own as green eyes stare back. The taste of iron fills your mouth and you're vaguely aware you’ve bitten your tongue, mixing with the bitter taste of venom. The weight of the plush that sits upon you is no longer comforting but oppressive even as you throw it at the figure in the doorway. Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’re still just sleeping and imagining the person there. That hope is dashed as the plush instead hits the figure square in the chest before dropping to the floor with a dull thud.

He’s back.

He’s here.

He’s going to kill you this time.

Fear grips your throat, keeping you from calling out in panic, but the soured scent of your panic must have been enough to rouse the other two who it seems also had been dozing.

Kyle quickly sits up, alert and bristling with a low growl in the back of his throat while Johnny is on his feet in less than a second, stumbling as he does so and nearly slipping on the newly placed rug.

“Hey, what is it?” Kyle grabs your hands in his, eyes filled with concern as a light crooning escapes him. You don’t respond, only continuing to start at the monstrous shadow ahead.

It takes them both a moment to spot the same figure you have. But unlike you, they seem to recognize it almost instantly as the tension in their shoulders dissipates as they scent the air.

“Simon.” He huffs, running his hands over his head, sending the spikes of his hair in even more directions. “Scared the daylights out of us.”

Simon?

You slowly blink, watching as Simon steps out of the shadow of the stairway. His scent becomes even stronger and you find your hackles rising, posture becoming defensive as you hunch in the corner. A light growl escapes you at the unwelcome intrusion in your space. Kyle is the first to notice, placing a reassuring hand on your own as he looks back at Simon. They lock eyes, Kyle gesturing with his chin. The Alpha hesitates briefly before stepping back, once again becoming engulfed by the shadows and blending in with them seamlessly as the step increases his height.

“We've got orders. We're shipping out at the end of the week.” His voice is heavier than normal, an added layer of something you can’t quite name threaded in with its normal raspiness.

“Eh? I thought they were giving us at least a month?” Johnny questions him.

Simon only shrugs, the motion only visible in the backlit light of the stairs.

“Plans change.” He speaks to Johnny, but his eyes find yours out of the dark. “There’s not much choice.”

Another figure descends the stairs behind him. John, you realize, the familiar overtone of clove reaching you as his scent joins the others, the mix now becoming nearly overwhelming.

“So this is where you all are?” He looks around the redecorated room. Not disapproving, but more so curious.

John’s voice is steady, carrying that low rumble of authority even when softened by curiosity. His eyes sweep the room, lingering on the mismatched blankets, the empty mugs, the faint glow of the TV still playing forgotten in the background.

Your shoulders tense further. With Simon’s smoky presence already choking the air, John’s arrival only doubles the weight pressing down on you. Their scents layer thick, burning wood and something earthier, and it feels like the walls are closing in.

“I thought that was part of this whole deal. We got a full two months of leave,” Johnny says, tone edged with a sleepy roughness.
“It’s not up for debate,” Simon cuts in, a resolute finality in his tone.

The silence that follows is thick, broken only by the static murmur of the TV. For a moment, you almost wish you could crawl back under the blanket, let it drown out the heavy smoke filling your lungs now. Instead, you meet Simon’s eyes, forcing your breath to steady.

You can see it. He’s expecting you to break. Maybe even protest. But you refuse to show him anything in the slightest other than stone cold resolve. If he’s going to drag you into this, you’ll face him with teeth bared. But despite your anger with him, a flicker of worry alights itself in your chest.

What if they don't come back? What happens to you then? Will you finally be shipped off to the institution, or will you be let go?

Then a more sobering thought.

What if Simon is the only one that comes back? Even if he's not. The leader of the pack. He would still have. Technical control over you and your life. He would be established as your primary caretaker. Would he be willing to let you go and finally have you out of his hair?Or would he be content to keep you here and make your life one of misery. What would happen if the others weren’t around to act as a buffer between you?

“Then… good luck.”

The words draw all eyes to you at once.

Kyle blinks, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and worry. Johnny tilts his head, as if unsure whether you’re teasing or sincere. Simon’s gaze hardens, unreadable, while John’s sharp eyes soften just slightly, a flicker of recognition at your attempt.

You swallow, curling your fingers tight in the blanket. “If you’re leaving at the end of the week… I hope you come back.”

It isn’t much. Just two words. But they hang in the air heavier than any order.

The silence after your words stretches until Johnny breaks it with a low chuckle.

“Good luck?” he repeats, amusement curling around the words. “You really think you’re getting rid of us that easily?”

Heat creeps up your neck and you duck your head, muttering.

“I was just being polite.”

Johnny’s grin only widens as he snorts. “Polite, sure. But you’re stuck with us now and we’ll come back to keep annoying you no matter what.” He lets the words hang a beat before adding, voice dropping into something warmer, almost sly.

“Besides, admit it. You’d miss me.”

Kyle snorts and tosses a pillow at him.

“I’m sure she misses having peace and quiet.”

Johnny barely dodges it, laughter bubbling as if the whole exchange was worth it just to see you flustered.

And despite yourself a smile breaks through the anxiety. Small but real. Teasing or not, his promise lingers. Of all the things you had learned about the four men in your short time here with them so far, there is one above all you knew.

Johnny kept his promises.