RAGNAR #3
"There are people like that in my own family. My brother, Snow, he’s kind of like a wizard.
That’s what my dad says. He also gets these…
feelings, visions. Not often, it’s not his main thing, he has other abilities.
I remember as a kid, I was miserable once, fighting a fever.
He sat next to me and said he could make the world feel magical.
He touched me and… something weird happened.
The whole world changed colors. It pulsed, like it was becoming alive.
Everything lit up, as if it belonged to some other…
dimension. After I got better, I begged him to do it again, but he said no. "
"That’s… really interesting," I mutter, a little skeptical. Sun had a fever then, after all.
"I have another brother too. He’s a purple alpha, like you and Luca. He says—"
"Purple? Wait. So your parents are True Mates?" I blurt it out without thinking.
"Yes. Why?" he asks, frowning slightly.
Fuck, the words just come out of my mouth. I have to weasel out of it somehow!
"Isn't it obvious? My parents are also TMs, I'm just curious."
Silence falls. But all the puzzle pieces start sliding into place in my brain. A wave of heat rushes over me, confusion and disbelief knotting in my stomach.
This was right in front of me the whole time, and I didn’t see it?
Hunter Nolan is Sun’s close cousin! All the facts fit: TM parents. Purple brother. Cousin’s husband killed by NFH. The same surname.
How strange…
Back at the base, Hunter used to share a lot about his family.
His younger brother, Nathaniel, was raised by their uncle, who also happened to be Sun’s father.
After the accident that killed both their parents, Hunter couldn’t take in his brother.
He was away on a classified mission overseas.
That’s when Sun’s parents stepped in. They took in the boy whose face had been half-burned in the fire and raised him like their own.
Suddenly, this whole thing feels even more personal .
Close to home.
Sun’s not just some random guy! He’s Hunter’s family. Hunter, my brother-in-arms. The one person I actually consider a real friend. Maybe the only one.
Sun snorts and tilts his head.
His eyes just skim over me as he suddenly asks, "Yeah, purple alphas can only be born from TM parents. But you… don’t have the marks. Why not?"
His eyes flick to my bare shoulders and forearms. Every purple alpha has thick, half-inch-wide bands running down their limbs, through which they can extend bone spikes. It’s a universal trait. But that’s not the case with me.
"Did you have cosmetic surgery or something, to hide them?"
I chew the inside of my cheek. I hardly ever talk to anyone about this.
"Purple alphas have a few subtypes. I’m just a rare one. The alien genes sometimes mutate. I think you’re proof of that yourself." I gesture meaningfully toward his lower abdomen.
He flushes hard. I didn’t expect him to react shyly like that.
"You’re right. I’m different too. That kind of stuff usually happens in True Mate bloodlines."
"Fact. I’ve got all the standard traits of a purple alpha. My lines are pale but work the same."
Sun hesitates. "I’ve never seen a full transformation," he mumbles. "My brother, Storm, never shifted completely."
"You need a big adrenaline spike to trigger the imago , usually from feeling like someone you care about is in danger."
Sun's eyes are still skimming my biceps. He seems to enjoy ogling my muscles, not that I mind.
"A guy like you has such massive potential. You’d be a perfect fit for all kinds of jobs where that strength could actually make a difference."
There’s subtle subtext in that simple statement. Is Sun suggesting I don’t belong in a mafia garden? Figured.
But I should stop giving away so many details! Sure, I’ve got this weird gut feeling that Sun’s more trustworthy than anyone else here… but can I really bet everything on a feeling? He’s in a desperate situation here!
"My last job was stressful, I needed something calmer," I say vaguely, hoping it sounds believable.
Sun nods, cautiously. "I get wanting something calmer," he says. "But is it really?"
I don’t answer. A mafia estate as a ‘calmer’ place? Yeah, right. The logic just doesn't hold up.
He watches me, sharp-eyed. "I just think this place is wasting your potential."
I let out a bitter laugh. Actually, this is something I can be honest about.
"What does that even mean, potential, Sun? People love throwing that catchy phrase around. ‘Live up to your full potential.’ But does chasing success automatically mean happiness? You can be happy doing something small. That just… vibes with you."
I hesitate, eyes drifting outside the gazebo.
"Anyway, I’ve always been kinda misaligned with…" I trail off, suddenly feeling like I’m rambling. "Everything." I shrug.
But Sun’s looking at me like something I said really hit him. Then he swallows, pulling his shirt back on slowly, wincing as the fabric brushes his back.
"You know, you probably won’t believe this, but I’ve had those same thoughts.
Some people think giving everything to a career equals fulfillment.
But I’ve never felt that way either. I’ve also been kind of…
misaligned with what life’s ‘supposed’ to be about.
I like music, but I don’t know if I want to give my whole life to it.
I liked modeling for a bit, but not anymore.
I’ve thought about going to school, but… nah."
Our eyes are locked, and I nod, understanding him well.
"I don’t see a clear path either. I once thought I had. But it wasn’t fulfilling. It only made the hole in my soul even bigger. So now, I’m not sure about my future. ‘Misaligned’… fits me."
I am still oversharing, yep!
But Sun gazes at me like I’d just preached some kind of life wisdom.
"I totally get you." He closes his eyes. "Especially now, the future career and the ‘full potential’ bullshit are even less important. I did kinda reset to the basics. I only know one thing that matters." Sun’s voice wavers. "I want to be free ."
He’s right. I’m at the basic level too. That’s why I’m here too, fighting for freedom for my brothers.
"Yeah. Everything else is secondary. Only the people who’ve lost their freedom really know how crucial it is."
Silence falls between us. But something’s different.
The air feels warmer somehow, gold-toned, like an embrace. We’re synced again. Same wavelength, same frequency.
On a strange impulse, I reach up and gently touch his cheek, where Anzo’s hand left a red mark. Holding my breath, I caress it as his eyes slowly close, and he sighs.
"Wish I was out there…" Sun whispers, his voice breathy, lips inches from mine. "I’d love to try aligning with you…"
The magic is on. Like under some spell, I lean in, and our lips touch, almost shyly, as I whisper back, "I would welcome that alignment … if you were out there."
Instinctively, I go in for more. Our lips press together more hungrily as the momentum builds, but…
Then I exhale and pull back. The sweetness between us fades fast. It has to, I’ve stayed too long.
"Sun, I love talking to you, but it’s been over twenty minutes. I need to get back before someone notices. Cameras are watching…"
His cheeks are still pink.
"Will you be here tomorrow?" There’s a shy hope in his voice.
"As long as you understand how fleeting and risky this is. I hate to repeat it, but it could get us both killed. You know that, right?"
He closes his eyes. "I do. That’s why I appreciate it so much. Because it’s the only time I get to forget that I’m not free."
Stopping myself from saying too much, I nod.
Then back away and leave the gazebo.
***
As I cut through the overgrown bushes on the east side of the garden, barely looking around, my head is buzzing. But just as I emerge on the other side…
I see him.
A man standing in the shadow of a tree, looking straight at me.
My heart nearly stops.
Mauro Ferro.
Fuck.
It feels like the ground shifts under my feet. He’s standing close enough that, if he was really paying attention, he might’ve heard our conversation. Maybe not the details, but definitely the sound of voices. And if he’d been there earlier… maybe even the sex.
My heart pounds. Shit. Mauro’s been watching me for a while. He’s clearly been suspicious. And now… he just got confirmation.
I have to find out what’s gonna happen next. I turn and start walking straight toward him. I’m the kind of guy who faces things head-on. I don’t slow down until I’m five feet away.
I look him straight in the face, his calm, unreadable expression. His eyes scan my features, but I get absolutely nothing from him. No reaction. No words. Just silence.
I have to ask, so I pull out my phone and type a single sentence in the note's app:
"How much time do I have?"
His eyes drop to the screen. There’s a pause, he reaches out and takes the phone from my hand. My palms are slick with sweat.
"Time for what? To run?"
He hands it back to me. I type again:
"You definitely heard everything."
Mauro’s gaze returns to the screen. His face doesn’t even twitch. He types something in and passes the phone back with that same utterly neutral expression.
"Even if I did. So what?"
I don’t get it. He doesn’t care about what he just found out?
"That’s the kind of thing Anzo would love to hear about."
Yes, here I am, practically handing him ammo, suggesting what he should do with this newly acquired knowledge. Just great.
Still, there’s not a hint of change in his posture.
"That’s not something I care about."
Wait a minute. I swallow hard. Does he want something from me in exchange for keeping his mouth shut?
"Then what do you care about?" I write. "What do you want from me?"
He studies me for a long moment. We stare at each other in silence.
His eyes are a strange blend of stormy gray, deep green, and amber. They seem to bore into me with an intensity. Where does that come from?
Does he want… a fuck?