17. Obedient, belonging, devoted, soft.
Chapter seventeen
Obedient, belonging, devoted, soft...
Luka
Luka typed into his phone, unable to hide his amused expression as he flashed the screen at Nick.
I meant check in at the front desk.
Nick shook his head, eyes serious.“Too risky.They’dhave security cameras and require ID.”He slipped inside after Luka, closing the door quietly behind them.“This is better.”
The room smelled of cheap detergent and the ghosts of cigarettes, overlaid with the musty scent of neglect.
Luka remained near the door while Nick methodically checked every corner—under the beds, inside the closet, behind the shower curtain.
His movementswerefluid and practiced, but Luka caught the subtle shift in his scent as the hunter took control.
Luka let Nick complete his sweep despite knowing right away by scent alone that there was no one else in the room. Nick needed the ritual, this reclamation of control after the vulnerability of their walk.
He held up his thumb and cocked his eyebrow when Nick finally stilled.
“Yeah.”Nick nodded, and Luka caught the faint return of jasmine as tension bled from his shoulders.“Keep the lights off. Less chance someone notices the room is occupied.”
Luka settled into the chair by the window, watching as Nick set proximity alarms using items from his backpack—half-empty water bottles positioned to fall if the door opened, a makeshift tripwire across the bathroom threshold.
The hunter’s resourcefulness continued to impress him, but more than that, Nick’s scent was settling into something almost peaceful.
Home-making , his beast observed with satisfaction.
“I’m going to wash up,”Nick announced, grabbing clothes from his pack.
As the bathroom door closed, Luka pulled out the burner phone.
Vincenthadbeen texting frantic messages to the phone, clearly not having been informed that Ophelia’s burnerwaswith him.
Guilt twisted in his mind—not just about ignoring Vincent’s texts, but about Matteo.
His twin needed him, and here hewasin a stolen motel room with a hunter who tried to kill him multiple times.
The video call connected after two rings. Vincent’s face appeared, scowling and drawn with worry.
“Ophelia? Where the fuck—”Vincent’s expression shifted from irritation to shock.“Luka? What are you doing with Ophelia’s drug phone? Where have you been? Your phone’s been off for days!”
Luka raised his hands to sign, but Vincent continued his tirade.
“Do you have any idea what’s been happening? Jae and Matoskah showed up at the farm asking me to help bury two Society bodies! Two! And no explanation except ‘Luka will call you.’ What the fuck?”
Adam appeared in frame behind Vincent, placing a calming hand on his shoulder.“Vincent, let him answer.”Adam’s eyes met Luka’s through the screen.“Are you okay? We’ve been worried.”
Luka nodded, hands moving to form a response.?There’s something I need to see through. I’ll be home in a few days.?
Vincent’s anger dissolved instantly into concern, his eyes narrowing as he studied Luka’s face through the screen.“What’s going on? I’ve never seen you like this.”
?Like what??Luka asked, genuinely confused.
“Like...”Vincent gestured vaguely at the screen.“This. Secretive. Distracted. The only time I’ve seen you this way is when Matteo’s in trouble, but this is different. You look...”He paused, searching for words.“Content. Despite everything.”
Heat rose to Luka’s face—an unfamiliar sensation of embarrassment washing over him. His beast was restless in his chest, protective of the feelings hewasn’tready to examine under Vincent’s penetrating stare.
?How is Matteo??he asked, changing the subject.
Vincent’s expression darkened.“Still refusing to feed properly. We’re considering extreme measures. Jae thinks we might need to sedate him for a gastric tube feeding, but getting close enough to sedate him is the problem.”
The guilt sucker punched Luka in the jaw. His twin, probably having chained himself in their farmhouse basement, lost in feral madness while Luka played house with a hunter.?I’m sorry I’m not there to help.?
“Yeah, well...”Vincent sighed, running a hand through his blond hair.“That’s what I’m trying to understand. What could possibly pull you away right now?”
Adam leaned closer to the screen, his sharp eyes studying Luka’s face with uncomfortable perception.“Is it a guy or a girl?”he asked with soft curiosity.
Luka froze, his hands suspended in mid-air. The question caught him off guard, more heat flooding his face as frustration flared through him at his transparent reaction.
Vincent’s eyes widened, focusing intently on Luka’s hesitation.“Holy shit,”he breathed.
?No, it’s not like that,?Luka said, but the damagewasdone. Even he could see how unconvincing his response looked.
“Bullshit,”Vincent said, a predatory grin spreading across his face.“I know that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror.”
From behind the bathroom door came the sound of Nick’s racing heart, rapid and distressed. Luka caught every accelerating beat and his attention immediately shifted from embarrassment to protective concern.
He signed rapidly,?Tell Matteo I love him. I’ll be home soon,?before abruptly ending the call.
Make it stop , his beast urged, restless with the need to comfort. Go to him. Hold him .
Luka wanted to obey that urge, to push through the flimsy barrier and wrap Nick in his arms until his racing heart slowed. But barging in would destroy the trustthey’dbuilt and shatter the fragile safety Nick began to feel with him.
So he sat and waited, his mind bouncing between between two anxieties—the brother who needed him and needed him for eighty years, and the hunterwho’dsomehow become essential to his existence in a matter of days.
His thoughts drifted to Matteo’s gaunt face, contorted with animalistic hunger while his mind remained trapped in silent suffering.
They tried everything over the decades—coaxing, pleading, even tricking him into drinking donated blood.
Nothing worked long-term. Matteo’s aversion went beyond simple distaste; itwasa psychological block Luka couldn’t penetrate despite their bond.
A sharp crash from the bathroom jolted him from his thoughts—not a fall, but something intentionally broken. Glass shattering against tile with violent force.
Nick . Hurt . Protect .
Hewasat the door before conscious thought could form. The door swung inward easily—unlocked. He expected resistance, the need to force entry. Instead, he found himself frozen on the threshold, taking in the scene with a mixture of shock and rising rage.
Nick leaned against the sink, shoulders heaving with harsh breaths. His bare backwasa canvas of systematic cruelty—long, ragged scars, clusters of smaller marks like tally counts, puncture wounds, and patches where skinhadbeen deliberately flayed and left to heal roughly.
But itwasthe words that made fury burn through Luka’s veins. Carved deep into Nick’s flesh with brutal precision: obedient, belonging, devoted, soft . The largest inscription, good boy , dominated the space between his shoulder blades, each letter a monument to someone’s sadistic artistry.
The shattered mirror reflected distorted fragments of the room, broken pieces scattered across tile like fallen stars. Nick’s shoulders heaved as he struggled to regulate his breathing, face flushed and eyes red-rimmed from crying.
When Nick realized the doorwasopen, his gaze snapped to Luka. All color drained from his face as he dropped to his knees, arms wrapping around himself.
“Don’t look—”he whispered, voice choked with shame.
Luka pulled the door shut, retreating into the main room as the beast raged against his restraint. Every instinct screamed to tear apart whoeverhaddone this, to hunt them down and make them suffer a thousand times over for each scar they carved into Nick’s skin.
He needs us calm, Luka told himself. Rage won’t help him now.
He leaned against the wall, forcing himself to take unneeded breaths through the protective fury that threatened to overwhelm his control.
He should have knocked. Should have waited for permission.
He’dviolatedNick’s boundaries in the worst possible way, intruding on a moment that exposed the depth of his wounds.
For several minutes, only Nick’s ragged breathing broke the quiet, then new sounds emerged—muffled sobs, choked off as if Nickweretrying to swallow them before they escaped. Each broken sound sent fresh waves of anguish through Luka’s chest.
Something predatory stirred within him, wanting action, wanting to fix this. But Luka knew better. This kind of damage couldn’t be healed with force or good intentions. It required patience, presence, and respect for Nick’s pace.
He grabbed his notebook from the table, settling cross-legged in front of the door. Nick’s scentwassoaked in distress now, overlaid with salt and shame. Luka whistled softly—a clear C with rising intonation, questioning.
A beat passed. Then Nick’s voice, small and muffled:“No.”
Luka tried again—B natural with rising intonation, hopeful that this languagethey’dcreatedtogether would bridge the gap between them.
“No, no danger,”Nick affirmed.“I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”
Luka’s chest tightened at the automatic apology. He wrote quickly: ‘ No sorrys. You don’t need to apologize to me.’ He tore the page out, sliding it under the narrow gap.
Nick’s voice came after a moment, still quiet but steadier.
“I saw the pajamas you put in my bag and thought they looked comfortable.”A pause.
“I haven’t worn pajamas in a long time. Always sleeping in clothes thatwere.
.. chosen by someone else.”His voice cracked.
“I can’t button the shirt. I tried. But I can’t. ”
His pen moved across paper:‘ Breaking things when frustrated makes sense. I threw a lot of stuff after losing my voice.’ He slid it under the door.
The scent of fear and shame gradually receded, giving way to that floral note again—lighter, more genuine. Nick’s voice emerged with careful curiosity:“How did it happen? Is it related to your throat scar?”
We should tell him . The hunterwasreaching out, seeking connection through shared understanding. His pen hovered over paper as memorieshe’dkeptburied for decades surfaced.
He wrote:‘ Long story. Don’t want to burden you when you’re upset.’
The paper disappeared. Nick’s response came quickly,“I would like to hear the story.”
Luka stared at a clean page, something restless moving in his chest as protected memories pressed against his consciousness.
He’dnever told anyone the full story—not even Vincent knew all the details.
But something in Nick’s quiet request, the way he asked despite his own pain, made Luka want to offer this piece of himself.
His pen moved with careful deliberation:‘ World War 2, Macedonia. Neighbor country sided with Axis powers. My brothers and I fought to protect our family.Werecaptured, held prisoner. Captorswerecruel because they could be.’
He paused, throat tightening with phantom pain. The memory of that rusty blade, the warmth of blood running down his chest as he deliberately severed his ability to scream.
‘Matteowasalways gentle, kind. They made him listen to me being tortured in the next room. His crying hurt worse than what they did to me. One day they left a weapon in my cell. To stop them hurting Matteo through hurting me, I used it on my throat. Cut my vocal cords. I hummed soI’dknow where to cut. ’
His hand trembled slightly as he continued:‘ Same day, Matteo deafened himself with a rusty nail, hopingthey’dstop torturing me if he couldn’t hear my screams. Never knew if they left those things where we could find them on purpose.’
Luka slid the paper under the door, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.He’dsharedhis deepest pain, the moment thatdefined both him and Matteo for over eighty years. His beast offered quiet support, approving of the choice to trust Nick with this truth.
Nick’s voice came through the door, strength threading through the sadness:“I’m sorry that happened to you. And your brother.”
Luka whistled a steady C—acknowledgment, gratitude for being heard and understood. It’s okay.
The door cracked open. Relief washed over Luka as Nick appeared, face still red and tear-streaked, eyes uncertain but determined.
“Will you help me button my shirt?”