RAGNAR
What the hell is happening to me?
I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I need to focus on my mission, not get caught up in weird sexual energy exchanges, hugs, and little chats with Anzo’s eighteen-year-old lover.
It doesn’t matter what I think about his situation, or how pissed off I am at my own helplessness, or how shitty I feel for not doing anything to help him.
Because it’s all fucked up anyway.
And the most catastrophic part? I’m attracted to him. For real.
What happened with me after he touched my arm yesterday was just… beyond acceptable.
Despite promising myself I’d stop thinking about him, I jerked off in the evening, twice. But it didn’t help. The vision of him keeps coming back to me, stubbornly.
Just before the end of my shift, I head into the inner garden for a moment to grab my toolbox, the one I left there earlier, and that’s when I notice something different.
Someone moved a harp onto the patio near the pool. A beautiful, elegant instrument with carved detailing.
There’s music in the air, quite stunning. I never thought a harp could create something that would enchant me like this, but the sound is absolutely heavenly.
Sun is sitting by the instrument. Yeah, I’ve started calling him that in my head now. He's not just 'the guy' anymore. It fits him too, with all his golden colors. He's become real to me, a person with a name.
Even though I would prefer him to be a bit abstract, dreamlike, because being real makes his situation more dreadful, and I hate it so much.
And now, the music strips away even more of that anonymity.
Sun… he’s got serious talent. How much practice must it have taken to get this good?
His eyes are closed, fingers dancing across the strings seemingly effortless. The music pulls me toward him like I’m on a leash, and even though I know I shouldn’t go, I do.
God… What a waste, this boy, trapped in the hands of that monster. I inch closer, pretending I’m just carrying a watering can to tend to the flowerbeds along the patio’s edge.
Sun keeps his eyes closed. His hair is loose, cascading down his shoulders like liquid honey. Have I ever seen a more beautiful view?
His fingers glide across the strings, silver waves of music spilling into the garden, mesmerizing.
When I step beside him, he slowly looks up at me. His dark lashes no longer shadow his cheeks. I meet those bright-green eyes. There’s sadness in them… and something like defeat.
The bruise on his face is lighter today, and his skin looks almost flawless. That soft curve of his lips seems so inviting and… sinful.
I drop my gaze to his neck, where a golden collar gleams, a mark of that monster.
He’s wearing a pale blue tank top, the fabric thin enough that his nipples are clearly visible underneath.
What? Fuck. I shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be drooling over him.
"You play beautifully," I say, my voice a little tight, and I clear my throat quickly.
He lifts his hand, brushing a few strands of hair off his cheek.
There’s something weary and sad in the gesture, but somehow, it’s also… strangely erotic. If that combination even makes sense.
His slender fingers trail slowly through the long locks.
I catch a whiff of his body wash, light, sensual, like orange petals swirling in the wind, aromatic, fresh. Some people choose their scents to complement their pheromones. And I’ve always loved the smell of citrus blossom.
"Thank you," he says softly. "I’ll be playing this at the banquet this weekend."
"Oh, people are gonna be blown away. I heard in the kitchen that some big shots are coming. It’s good that you’re performing, at least they’ll know you exist."
The sadness doesn’t leave his face as he replies,
"Those kinds of people don’t care about someone like me. They come here to make deals with Anzo, not to stir up trouble. They’re not gonna risk losing favor by speaking out."
I can’t help but think how arrogant Anzo is, parading his captive lover in front of those bootlicking sycophants. Showing off his crime, his ownership, like a trophy, right under their noses.
And they just smile, look away, and stretch out their hands for the cash.
I sigh.
"Apparently Dante Moll himself will be there, an important figure. The face of the Beta Empowerment movement. Also Mayor Ronalds and a few local politicians. Pretty high-profile crowd. Still. It wouldn’t hurt for them to see you."
Sun grimaces slightly.
"Probably not a popular opinion, but I think Dante’s a scumbag. A pathetic suck-up who clings to anyone with money. He’s the last person who’d ever help me. He hates alphas and omegas."
I raise my eyebrows, surprised by how strong that opinion is. I’m curious where it’s coming from.
"Well… he’s a typical activist. Focused on a narrow scope, not the bigger picture."
Sun stands up, moving away from the harp and slowly walking toward me.
He looks different with his hair down, like an angel. And yet, oh, the irony, there’s something incredibly sensual about him too.
For a moment, I feel this overwhelming temptation to reach out and brush one of those golden curls with my fingers. But of course, I don’t.
Only in my mind, I allow myself to place my hand on the back of his neck again, to pull him toward me, to smell that gland below his ear and…
Ugh. Stop it, Ragnar.
Sun tilts his head a little, his gaze flicking to my bicep. Is he looking at the thin silver line there?
Is he wondering what it means?
"I heard Dante’s launching a big campaign against that government Beta Activation Program coming this fall."
I lift an eyebrow. "Oh? You’ve read about it?"
Sun blushes slightly, like he feels silly.
"Just because I’m eighteen doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on in the world," he mumbles, looking off to the side and biting his lip, a move that’s kind of adorable.
I stare at his soft mouth. What if it wrapped around my—
Stop it, Ragnar. You sick…
"That’s not what I meant," I say quickly. "A lot of people just avoid politics altogether."
"One of my brothers, Winter, works for the company making the recruitment app for the BA program, so I’ve picked up some stuff."
I nod. "It’s an interesting project. The thing Dante conveniently forgets is that it’s entirely voluntary. No one’s forcing anyone to take part."
"Exactly," Sun says, brightening just a little.
"And now Dante’s plastered everywhere, screaming his propaganda from every headline, pushing his hateful narrative as far as he can."
I hesitate. Should I take this conversation further? Maybe.
Sun said he wanted normalcy. Perhaps simply talking politics, like regular people, will lift his mood a bit. Give him a taste of a normal, everyday convo.
Or… perhaps it’ll ruin his mood.
With politics, you never know.
"Dante ignores the fact that our society’s facing a demographic crash. He pretends not to understand how population sustainability works. But one day, we’ll be old too, and there won’t be anyone left to fund our pensions. It's no fun to end up on the street, hungry, with no medical care."
Sun studies me. "Are you into this kind of stuff?"
I hesitate. My views come from a very specific place, and I can’t talk about that with him. I need to dodge this one.
"Not like I’m into it," I hurry to say, biting back the urge to rant about Beta Empowerment. That movement’s been in bed with NotFromHere for years. Same goals: stopping human reproduction altogether.
NotFromHere just took it further, they’re openly genocidal. And I spent six years of my life fighting them after they killed my granddad.
They’ve dug their roots into countries all over the world, leaving devastation in their wake. All in the name of one twisted belief:
That the people living today don’t deserve to exist.
That a few percent of alien DNA in our genome makes us the real invaders.
This planet once belonged to men and women, and to the NFH we, with our three subgenders, are an abomination.
All those years in the army, I’ve seen massacred villages, slaughtered omegas, alphas, even tiny children. Burned-out homes marked with giant NFH letters and their logo, a face of an alien crossed out with a red X.
They see us as enemies of this planet, not its rightful children. They believe humanity needs to be wiped out completely to preserve the planet for organisms with ‘uncontaminated DNA’.
I hesitate before I say it, but I end up sharing the shortened version.
"You know, the Beta Empowerment movement often speaks positively about the NFH. They practically defend them. And Dante himself, anytime someone in an interview asks him to outright condemn their genocidal actions, he dodges it like an eel. I mean, betas are sterile. That’s why NFH lets them live."
Sun pales a little. And suddenly, I realize that he knows this topic firsthand.
"Yeah… I… I hate the NFH too. They killed my cousin’s husband. Great guy. It’s a cruel organization. And you’re right, Dante openly winks at them. I’ve seen pictures of him shaking hands with their leader in South America."
I’m one breath away from asking how his cousin’s husband died, but I stop myself. It’s probably just a coincidence. Fate knows how many people the NFH has killed.
Sun changes the subject.
"If people actually read up a bit, they’d realize the government isn’t trying to trigger a population boom with this program. They just want to maintain a one-to-one generational replacement. Keep the number of people stable."
"Exactly, and I’m good with that. I’m not a fan of extremes. I don’t think the population should grow, I believe two billion is about as much as the planet can handle without damaging the ecosystem. But total annihilation? That’s the other extreme."
Sun smiles. "Totally agree. As long as we can live in balance with the planet, without destroying the environment, the climate, or poisoning it, we should be allowed to live here like anyone else."
There’s a short pause and I smile back gently. "Well, we’ve had quite a chat. And people say politics always causes fights."