Chapter 17
Kasey
I woke up with a sharp inhale, the kind that dragged cold air into my lungs before I even understood why I was breathing so hard. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was; my mind still tangled in the dream, still half in the woods, still feeling the bee sting.
The room was dark except for the soft glow of the lamp Evander had left on. Shadows stretched across the walls, gently and unmoving, nothing like the towering shapes from the dream. My heart thudded against my ribs as I pushed myself upright before the panic could take root.
The blanket fell off my shoulders, pooling around my form as I scrubbed a hand down my face, trying to shake off the memories that would forever haunt me.
After a couple of minutes, my heart settled back to its normal rhythm, but it left an aftertaste of fear clinging to every part of me.
I hated that dream. No matter how many times it came back, no matter how many years had passed, it always ended the same way, like it was stuck in a loop I couldn’t break.
Sometimes someone else is with me. Evy, one of my cousins, a familiar face that shouldn’t have been there but somehow was. Other times, Mama appeared in the trees, screaming my name, begging me to come back, her voice stretching in that dream like way that made it sound both too close and too far.
And then there were nights where no one showed up at all. No voice. No footsteps. Just me disappearing in an instant, like a snap of fingers, swallowed by the woods before anyone even realized I was gone.
Those were the worst. The ones where I vanished without a trace, without a fight. Without goodbye.
Every version left me waking with the same hallow feeling in my chest. Every version reminded me I never got to see any of them again.
Those were the dreams that left me walking with me chest tight; breath caught somewhere between now and then. The ones that reminded me that I never got to see anyone again.
I sat there in the dim light, trying to remember where I was.
At one point in my life, I thought I’d have the entire world at my fingertips. But at eight years old, of course any little boy, Omega or not, thought that.
And I wished, for just a moment, that I could go back to that time and just give Mama one last hug. Tell Evy how much I really liked him. Tell the strange man no, that I wasn’t going to go with him to find my parents who weren’t even up the trail, waiting for me.
Like all the other times after dreams of the past, I couldn’t help but wonder where my family may be today. I knew they gave up looking for me. It took them maybe two days at the most to stop looking.
Or so, I was told.
I was told that Mama passed away, too. Died in a car accident the day I was found wondering the woods.
But that man that took me…. I saw him often at Lockswell. I hadn’t seen him for a few years now, and I never wanted to run into him again. He always looked at me like he did me a favor.
But I never wanted to be there at Lockswell. I never wanted to be forced to become someone I wasn’t.
All my rights, all the ways of life that I once knew, had been stripped of me. Piece by piece.
I went from a happy eight-year-old boy who thought my best friend could hang the stars for me if I asked, to being nothing more than a step above a bug.
So many teachers, so many handlers, and so many adults told me over and over again that I was an Omega. Special. One of a kind, in a way. But each one meant a different way.
With Mama, it was because I was special. I was to be loved and cherished and a piece of glue to hold us all together without ever having to try.
I’d learned early that with the handlers and teachers, I wasn’t a person. I was a slot filled. Replaceable. Interchangeable. Expected to stay quiet, follow orders, and never draw attention to myself. Especially not by making anyone else feel seen or comfortable. That wasn’t my place.
Any time I forgot that, anytime I slipped, I was reminded. Over and over. Disciplined until the lesson was stuck again.
The marks on my body were more than a testament to how well I behaved at first. I fought, because that’s what Mama would have expected.
But in time, as my dignity was stripped away, I learned.
I learned to not speak unless I was spoken to. I learned to not comfort others or make them feel seen. I learned not to stand out. I learned to kneel for any Alpha, no matter who they were.
Anything that hinted at individually, softness or connection, was a mistake. And the mistakes were corrected. Repeatedly. Until the lesson sank deep enough that I didn’t forget it again
Those memories are pressing around me now. Not sharp, but heavy enough that they sat on my chest, reminding me of my place.
I rubbed my palms against my thighs, grounding myself in the texture of the blanket, the warmth of the room, and the quiet hum of the house. None of those old rules are applied here now.
Evander hadn’t once looked at me like I was replaceable, at least not yet. He looked at me like I was about to break, even though I was already broken beyond repair.
His rules, ones he made sure to tell me again before I went to bed, would be easy. Well, easy enough once I got them through my head. They went against what I’d spent years learning.
I closed my eyes, breathing slowly, trying to separate the past from the present. I tried to remind myself that I wasn’t back there. That I was now under the control of an Alpha who told me he was going to keep me; told me I had a place here in his home.
But I didn’t know what that meant. Surely this Alpha needed my service for something, and I was going to figure out what that would be.
***
I gave up sleeping hours ago. By the time the first thin light began to creep across the sky, soft and gray against the curtains, I’d already accepted that rest wasn’t coming back for me.
So, I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could and started the morning the only way I knew how.
Which followed the routine that had been drilled into me for years.
Schedules meant stability. Stability meant safety. Or at least the closest thing to it.
I smoothed the sheet, tugged the corners tight, and straightened the pillows until they sat just right. Then, I picked up the worn fox from where it had fallen during the night and set it carefully in the middle of the bed, tucked against the pillows like it belonged there.
It was soft from years of being held, one ear a little bent, the fur thinning around the seams. Someone loved it once. Someone had carried it enough that it still held the shape of small hands.
I paused, fingers lingering on its head.
There had to be a story behind it. Something gentle. Something is real. Something that didn’t fit with the rest of the world I’d knew. Maybe one day I’d find the words to ask Evander about it. Maybe one day I’d be brave enough.
For now, I just made sure it was sitting exactly where it should be, like honoring it was part of the routine, too.
I moved through the room on instinct, letting the rhythm of routine settle over me like a thin, familiar blanket. It wasn’t comfortable, not exactly. But it was something I understood. Something predictable. Something that didn’t ask anything of me expect to keep going.
The house was silent on that soft morning. There were no footsteps, no voices, no doors opening or closing. Just the faint hum of the water heater.
I folded the clothes I’d worn yesterday, placing them in a neat stack on the dresser. I didn’t know what this Alpha wanted me to wear, but I figured going with what I knew was expected of me at Lockswell was the saftest way to go here, too.
The slight chill of the air hit my skin, but it was easy enough to ignore.
I checked the bathroom next, turning on the light and making sure everything was where it was last night. Towels were looped over the bar near the shower. Soap in the dish. Toothbrush lined up straight.
I didn’t know why it mattered, but it did. It always did.
Routine meant I didn’t have to think. Thinking meant remembering. And remembering meant slipping back into the woods, into hands, and into the silence that often times became something close to like a best friend.
So, I kept moving.
I opened the curtains just enough to let a sliver of morning light in. The sky was pale but slowly growing colorful. And with it, the backyard came into view.
The flower garden Evander talked about was basked in shadows of the trees and hills, but I could just make out the planter. And a bit farther up that small hill was an oversized house, a lone light shining through a room downstairs.
Maybe I wasn’t the only one that was up before the sun rose in this part of the world.
I wasn’t sure how long I stayed like that, moving from one task to the next, letting the morning unfold around me. It was long enough that the rightness in me settled. The ability to serve but doing it in a way that wasn’t seen, wasn’t calculated, helped to ease the uncertainty of being here.
It was long enough that I could almost believe that this could be a new normal to start every day, if Alpha Evander wished for me.
I tidied up the living room. Fluffed one pillow. Put away a forgotten cup. Straightened the coffee table.
I was running a wet cloth across the kitchen countertop when there was a soft creak from the room where Evander was. Then the muted thump of the door closed.
He was awake.
Just the thought of the Alpha waking up, starting his day, caused my heart to pick up speed.
Would he be pleased with my actions? Would he punish me for not staying in the bedroom?
I forced my feet to keep moving, to keep my hands busy and mind off what ifs. Because whatever happened was going to happen either way.
I moved through the kitchen like someone trying not to disturb the air itself. Every step was measured; every breath was quiet. The house was sleeping, and I didn’t dare wake it up.
I hovered near the edge of the kitchen at first, running out of things to tidy up. I was unsure of where I fit here. The counters were too white. The floor was too bright.
This place wasn’t where I ever thought I’d see myself.
I wanted to be back in the kitchen I had brief memories of. The dark blue cupboards. The dark floor that showed all the flour that was somehow always spilt. That was the kitchen that felt like home.
Not this one.
I stopped near the fridge, my hands tucked close to my sides.
I knew how to cook, I had to learn, had to take turns on kitchen duty.
Because the Alphas would want an Omega who could cook.
But that didn’t mean I enjoyed it. I’d rather bake.
Cookies and cakes. And sweet, yummy treats. That, I could spend days doing it.
But I had to make real food. Something that gave my body the nutrients it needed to stay strong enough to survive for a little longer.
I just didn’t know what to make. I didn’t know if I was allowed yet, trusted to not poison this Alpha’s food.
I scanned the kitchen, making a mental list of what there was. Eggs, bread, and some fruit. Milk.
More than enough items to throw an omelet together, at least.
I easily found what I needed to make just that.
I pulled out a bowl to mix the eggs, a knife to cut up some veggies and some sort of leftover meat from the fridge, and a pan to cook it all in.
I could do this.
I had to make myself useful somehow. And since I was pretty sure that the Alpha wouldn’t want me kneeling on the floor beside his bed, or in front of his door for that matter, this was hopefully the next step in the right direction.
I just got the first omelet started when Evander’s voice went through the space. It was sleepy, rough around the edges as sleep clung to his tone.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
I couldn’t speak; my words stuck in my throat. Instead, I kept my eyes on the pan, hoping that the batter wouldn’t splash across my bare skin.
I was tempted to fall to my knees right there; breakfast be dammed. My knees ached already thinking of doing just that.
Evander’s voice came from behind me, warm and rough with sleep. “I figured you’d be asleep.”
The words hit harder than they should have. My throat tightened and the reply flickered through my mind. Same with you, sir. It stayed locked behind my teeth. I kept my mouth shut, jaw tight, eyes on the pan like it was the only safe thing in the room.
Evander rounded the small island, steps slow, unhurried. He stopped beside me and let out a long breath.
My stomach dropped. My legs went shaky, and my mind whispered that you messed up. You did something wrong. Fix it.
The eggs blurred for a second as my pulse kicked up, a whooshing sound filling my ears. I flipped them anyways, hands trembling, trying to keep my breathing quiet and controlled.
“Hey,” Evander said softly, closer now. “You’re okay.”
The words were gentle, but they didn’t reach me at first. Panic surged up fast and sharp, drowning out everything else. My fingers tightened around the spatula. I couldn’t look at him.
“Let me take over while you go find some clothes. No cooking unless you have at least pants or shorts on.”
I nodded quickly as his hand wrapped around my own, taking the spatula away.
I felt like I was caving in from the outside. Already so soon, and I was a disappointment to the Alpha. I was a failure at this.
Why didn’t I get a rule book like the one we all had at Lockswell? Why didn’t he just tell me all the rules and expectations last night instead of having me go to bed? Why didn’t he just take my body instead of being so polite?
There are so many reasons that I couldn’t dare ask.
Instead, with tears streaking down my face, I quickly high tailed to my bedroom and found the same pants he had given me yesterday. I slipped them on, nearly falling on my face while doing so.