Chapter 9
Whatever business it was, Hayce hadn’t returned for the day.
Ehlian found himself standing alone in the showers that evening, exposed to the hungry eyes of alphas. Once again, he was grateful that Grasson wasn’t around. Who knew what that sick bastard might’ve tried in Hayce’s absence?
He noticed a movement to his right and already on edge, he shot a warning look at the alpha. A moment later, his sharp gaze softened. It was only Aric, with the thin omega beside him.
Apart from his name, Larik, Ehlian couldn’t get much out of the omega. Even now, he kept close to Aric, though their closeness looked purely platonic. Ehlian sent Larik a smile. Larik returned it, somewhat, but never held eye contact too long. His shyness was almost adorable.
In moments like these, Aric seemed almost as imposing as Hayce, his keen eyes warding off any unwanted attention. Sitting directly beneath Hayce in the pack’s hierarchy, he was clearly someone Hayce trusted without question. Ehlian wondered what exactly Aric had done to earn that kind of trust.
Ehlian sent him a casual glance. “Do you know who is visiting Hayce today?”
Aric’s sharp eyes darted to Ehlian and lingered there a moment too long. “If Hayce didn’t tell you, neither will I.”
“Why are you so loyal to him?”
Aric gave him an odd look, as though Ehlian ought to have known the answer, but said nothing.
“What’s with the secrecy?” Ehlian asked. “It’s not like I could do anything with the information.”
“It’s not a secret,” Aric said. “I’ve been his personal guard since he was fifteen.”
Fifteen?! That meant they had technically grown up together. “You followed him even in prison? Don’t you think that’s a bit overdoing it?”
“I’m not that loyal,” Aric let out a huffed laughter. “I was charged as his accomplice in his father’s murder. That tends to narrow your options.”
Ehlian studied him carefully, choosing his words just as cautiously. “You knew what he was planning?”
“It got less press,” Aric said, “but traces of my core signature were detected in his father’s mind before he died.
I suppose that made it easier to believe it took two telepaths to inflict that kind of damage.
Hayce’s father kept personal guards, but in high society you have to be ready to defend yourself, just as he made sure his sons and daughter were. ”
“Made it easier to believe?” Ehlian caught the odd phrasing. “It is believable. Core signatures can’t be faked.”
At least not perfectly. Some inmates still tried, but their clumsy attempts were caught quickly.
Aric didn’t reply. He let Ehlian’s words hang in the air, as though he didn’t want their conversation go beyond this point.
“I mean,” Ehlian couldn’t let it go. “If you had nothing to do with it, wouldn’t you and Hayce have fought to admit your memory from that day?”
“How did that work out for you?” Aric’s eyes skimmed over the other inmates. “Or any of them?”
It hadn’t. Memories were rarely admissible.
They were too easily altered, manipulated into a different truth.
Most of the time, they were unreliable. After too many criminals had provided falsified memories and walked free, the new law had made it nearly impossible to admit memories as evidence.
And even when telepaths could preserve them longer and sharper than most betas, memory still dulled over time—fragmented, blurred, bias creeping in slowly.
Core signatures, on the other hand, were stable. And Hayce’s had been everywhere, just like Ehlian’s own after he forced his way into his uncle’s mind.
“Core signatures still can’t be perfectly recreated by anyone,” Ehlian said. “So why are you—”
“No more questions,” Aric cut in. “If Hayce wants to tell you more, he will.”
He wouldn’t. It was pointless for Ehlian to even try.
When he was back in the cell and the alarm blared for curfew, Hayce was still nowhere to be seen. Inmates were allowed an hour of visiting time. Just how much money had Hayce sunk into the guards’ pockets to make the rules bend around him?
For a while, he sat in the armchair, reading Hayce’s book, but he kept glancing towards the door. Why was Hayce taking so long?
Ah, who cared? It wasn’t like Ehlian was attached to him.
He didn’t want to get attached to him.
He flipped the book closed, and Hayce’s bookmark slipped free, falling to the floor. It was a torn strip of white paper. But when he bent to pick it up, the thickness beneath his fingers gave him pause. He turned it over.
A photo.
It was a faded family portrait, Hayce and his sister standing at their father’s side.
It must have been taken sometime after their mother’s death, but she wasn’t the only one missing from the frame.
The photo had been viciously torn along the sister’s side, as though Hayce had tried to make sure nothing remained of the fourth member of their family.
Yet he hadn’t quite succeeded. A small fragment of an elbow still clung stubbornly to the edge, disrupting the fragile harmony Hayce had tried to create by erasing him.
Sandar Cartivair. His brother. It couldn’t be anyone else.
Ehlian’s mind reeled. Why would Hayce keep a photo of his father—the very man he had killed—handled with such care, such quiet tenderness? Like he was trying to preserve the echo of a long-lost happiness.
None of it made sense.
The longer he stared at the shattered family portrait, the more he felt Hayce despise his own brother.
When the lights went out in the cell, Ehlian put back the photo in the book and forced himself to stop thinking about Hayce. He didn’t want to dig deeper. He shouldn’t dig deeper. It wasn’t his business, and the smartest choice was to stay well clear of it.
He quickly undressed and pulled on his nightwear, the cold air biting at his skin.
He hated when the prison slipped into the shadow of Arox.
The temperatures plummeted, and the heating was only just enough to keep the chill at bay.
The thick blanket offered some relief, but his feet were always cold.
Once in bed, an unsettling feeling pressed down on his chest. He couldn’t find his place, despite having spent the past four months in the same bed. The cell felt oddly empty and cold.
His hope flickered when he heard a noise from the direction of the door… footsteps, approaching, then passing. Silence again. Probably just a guard patrolling the floor.
What if something had gone wrong? What if the visitor was Hayce’s brother, and everything had spiralled out of control? What if his brother was a fucking maniac and attacked Hayce?
Gods, he was being ridiculous.
One torn photo shouldn’t suddenly undo everything he believed… everything he already knew about Hayce.
Another noise came from the direction of the floor, and finally, finally, the door opened. The cell seemed to regain some of its warmth.
Hayce began to undress, tossing his clothes onto the armchair one by one. He pulled on a shirt and pants before slipping into bed beside Ehlian.
Silence settled over them once again.
Slowly, Ehlian rolled onto his back, casting a quick glance at Hayce. He lay still, turned away from him. Ehlian wanted to ask how the visit had gone, but they weren’t a bloody couple. And yet, he still found himself trying to gauge Hayce’s emotional state. He felt nothing.
He turned his head on the pillow again, this time letting his gaze linger. Hayce’s thoughts and feelings never seeped through the pack bond, kept tightly behind a mental shield. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Ehlian looked back at the ceiling. He still felt oddly displaced, a little hollow. He had no idea what was wrong with him, unable to stitch his thoughts together.
Once more, his eyes drifted back to Hayce. His gaze was long, almost endless, fixed on the back of Hayce’s head, burning through him.
“If you want something, Ehlian, you need to ask for it.”
Ehlian knew he was making his second mistake today. A stop right now alarm blared in his head, but it was too late—his whispered, soft words were already slipping past his lips. “I’m cold.”
Hayce shifted, turning towards him, and Ehlian was gathered into warm arms, his back drawn against a steady chest that felt like a shield. His cold feet slid between Hayce’s, seeking and finding their warmth under the covers.
Slowly, that hollow feeling was replaced by peace. It felt like Hayce had been away for a week, not just a day. The visit had been unexpectedly long, and Ehlian couldn’t shake his curiosity.
“Did the visit go well?”
Hayce didn’t respond.
“Was it…” Ehlian hesitated, then decided to push. “Was it your brother?”
“I’m not going to tell you anything,” Hayce said. “So stop probing.”
Figures. Why would Hayce ever want to share anything with an omega who was nothing more than one of his many playthings? He had made it very clear what he wanted from Ehlian, and what he didn’t. Ehlian’s position at the very bottom of the pack’s hierarchy was a clear indication of that.
Still, he couldn’t get it out of his head.
Whoever the visitor was, they must have had enough power and influence to convince the guards to stretch their meeting with Hayce for a whole fucking day.
Could it have been Hayce’s attorney? A private investigator?
Could Hayce be innocent, with undeniable proof finally uncovered?
But that would mean there was a real possibility of Hayce walking free.
And if he left, Ehlian would be left behind, free to be claimed by any alpha.
By Grasson.
He felt cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Soft fingers brushed his hair away from his neck as Hayce slipped a little closer. “Did something happen while I was away?”
Ehlian shook his head faintly. “No.”
“Then why are you so tense?”
“I’m not,” Ehlian said quietly. “Aric was there with me. Nothing happened.”
“You feel restless,” Hayce said. “Tell me.”