ELIANO #4
Jordan frowns. "I’m not sure there’s reception on the island."
"We got Eliano a decent burner," Storm replies. "There’s a chance it’ll catch something. Hopefully you won’t need it. Take care," he pats my shoulder. "And… good luck."
Jordan nods. I nod back.
A moment later, we are on the move.
Salt avoids my gaze, even though we are sitting directly across from each other.
Unexpectedly, I notice a small first aid kit mounted under the opposite bench.
Maybe this could be a way to start a conversation. I lean forward and pull it out.
"You have a cut on your face. I’m going to disinfect it," I say calmly.
"I don’t need your care! I don’t need your help!" Salt snaps through clenched teeth.
I ignore that. I sit beside him, take out the disinfectant, soak a cotton pad, and bring it close to his face.
He immediately turns away.
"Don’t be irrational. Who knows what kind of filth those alphas had on their hands. You don’t need an infection."
Surprisingly, that gets through to him. He stops resisting. Yeah, it looks like using bad alphas as an argument works like magic.
I bring my hand closer and gently clean his cuts.
He allows it, holding his breath. His jaw is tight, and he refuses to look at me. His whole body is slightly tense, his heart speeding up again.
"You really don’t have to play the caring, gentle husband. We are nowhere near that," Salt mutters.
"I’m not playing anything. I know we have a long road ahead, but this is basic hygiene and common sense. Supposedly that’s what betas are all about. Logic and reason. Unlike us, emotional alpha animals."
He rolls his eyes but says nothing, or at least I think he’ll stay silent, until suddenly he doesn’t.
"Maybe other betas are like that. I’m just me," he says with sudden honesty, and I have no answer to that.
There’s this one moment when I clean a small cut near the corner of his lip, when his eyes meet mine from such close proximity, and it’s strangely intense.
Then he quickly averts his gaze.
I finish tending to his wounds, then clean my own cut at the temple and slide the kit back under the bench.
Suddenly Salt mutters, "That silly sound you made. The… purring."
"What about it?"
"My brother did it sometimes. He could do it, but not on such a low tone," he says in a weirdly hostile tone mixed with something else. It’s a wild guess, but I’d say he wants me to purr! But he feels deeply uncomfortable asking for it.
With a small smile, I start my ‘purring engine’ sound again.
Salt rolls his eyes, but… doesn’t protest!
Yep, bingo.
The calming, vibrating deep sound brings about a more relaxed silence.
The rest of the drive passes in quiet. Neither of us talks. The adrenaline is slowly wearing off.
Finally, about forty minutes later, we pull into the Hallwell port and head toward the ferry checkpoint.
I take the luggage. Salt is much more at ease now, maybe thanks to the purr?
Soon we enter the quay and see a small ferry waiting there, clearly intended only for transport to Calsing Island. A single, short beta stands by the ramp, smoking a cigarette and obviously waiting for us.
As soon as we get out, he approaches with concern on his face, introducing himself as Gomez.
The warden steps up and briefly explains what happened.
"We are very sorry this occurred!" Gomez exclaims. "Those alphas are not employed by Beta Activation, but still, please accept my apologies for the entire situation!"
"It’s fine," Salt says tersely. "Fortunately, my alpha hubby showed up and saved my ass. Metaphorically and literally."
I do not take his sour tone to heart. He has the right to his reaction.
Mr. Gomez shakes my hand with a smile. "I’m very glad you were there and saved the situation! Thanks Fate for that!"
"I’m sure from now on we’ll be much safer, Mr. Gomez," I reply politely.
"Of course, of course! Let me invite you aboard, the ferry is waiting just for you."
"But first, the formalities," the warden says curtly, removing the cuffs from Salt’s wrists and ankles.
For a brief moment Salt looks slightly startled, then glances around almost as if he is considering making a run for it, this very second, though of course he does nothing of the sort.
"These are all the transfer documents," the warden adds, handing Salt’s paperwork to Gomez.
Soon the two of us step aboard, with Mr. Gomez following close behind.
I can tell from Salt’s behavior that he is surprised he is no longer being treated like a prisoner. Gomez leads us to a small deck area with a few tables, and shortly after, a waiter brings us a small breakfast.
The ferry pulls away from the dock and heads south.
"How long will the trip take?" Salt asks suddenly, scanning the surroundings with attentiveness.
"Not very long. Calsing Island is about ten miles from here."
"Is it far from the mainland?"
"Not really. About a mile offshore."
Salt grows thoughtful. I wonder what prompted those questions, but I say nothing.
Meanwhile, Mr. Gomez pulls out a tablet with a satisfied smile.
"I’ll give you some key information about our island, the facility, and our goals," he says.
He takes a deep breath. "It was established almost three years ago and has been gradually expanded to meet the growing needs of the Beta Activation program."
He shows us a photo, likely from the opening ceremony, judging by the number of formally dressed people and smiling faces. He’s also in the picture.
"What we focus on there are natural methods of fertility stimulation. That is our core mission. Other centers rely more heavily on chemical stimulation, but we achieve excellent results based solely on natural pheromonal compatibility."
"I’ve heard that it’s basically impossible to determine compatibility between people," I interject.
"A few years ago, Mr. Blue Lowen, the CEO of Malden Pharmaceuticals, launched a research program on compatibility. About three years ago, he achieved the first major breakthrough and sold the government the license to use his alpha-beta compatibility tests."
"Only alpha-beta?" Salt raises his eyebrows.
"At the moment he only has those, but I heard Mr. Lowen sold a commercial license for omega-alpha tests a few days ago to the Fate’s Choice agency. These tests can only be used to rule out low or incompatible matches, but even that is a significant achievement."
"So you’re saying your program is built on real scientific foundations?" Salt asks, rubbing his chin lightly, his gaze distant.
Gomez looks almost offended.
"Oh yes. Our facilities have, from the start, matched alpha and beta pairs based on genetic research and pheromonal imprinting."
"Then I don’t understand why we were accepted. We didn’t have those tests," Salt mutters with obvious suspicion.
I glance at him. Well, I have a clue about that. I’m just curious whether Mr. Gomez will admit it.
He makes a strange face.
"Well, your case is somewhat unique. You had, shall we say…" He hesitates, as if unsure whether he should say it, then finally adds, "significant backing."
Right, Damien’s famous uncle had to pull some strings.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Salt frowns, finishing his second sandwich.
Mr. Gomez smiles a little awkwardly before answering. "Your case guardian’s True Mate is the nephew of Mr. Blue Lowen."
"Damien? Who would have thought!" Salt mutters, clearly shocked.
A heavy silence falls. Eventually, someone has to break it.
"Interesting," I murmur, so I don’t sound like I’m not paying attention to the conversation.
As they say, having contacts and relatives in the right places apparently always pays off.
"But I assume all other rules still apply to us?" Salt asks cautiously.
"Absolutely. That support only provided the initial push to get you accepted. Everything else you will go through exactly like any other couple."
"Are there many Second Chance couples on the island?" Salt continues.
"Quite a lot. The island is divided into sectors that keep only limited contact with one another. Sector C, where you will be housed, includes only couples referred through the Second Chance program."
"So offenders are isolated from the rest, and the other sectors are for volunteers?"
Gomez lets out a slightly embarrassed laugh.
"It simply works best. Shared experiences help create a better atmosphere and prevent conflicts with residents of the other sectors."
Mr. Gomez turns the tablet toward us, showing an aerial view.
At first glance, it is hard to make anything out, but it appears to be a group of small buildings arranged in neat rows.
"These are what we call houses. In reality, they are fully self-sufficient modular living units.
Inside, there is a living area that also serves as a bedroom, a small kitchenette, and a single bathroom.
That is all. The conditions are not luxurious or spacious, but the space is intentionally limited to encourage…
" Mr. Gomez clears his throat lightly and smiles pointedly, "…
closeness between partners, which is the whole point," he adds with a foolish little chuckle.
We are clearly not a very appreciative audience. Both of us look unimpressed as we stare at the presented pictures.
Mr. Gomez doesn’t seem discouraged and continues.
"All participants eat meals in the communal dining hall, located here." He taps the screen, zooms in on a building, and selects it. A row of photos pops up showing the interior. Naturally, the images are idealized. Long tables filled with smiling people, clearly staged promotional shots.
Then he straightens slightly and suddenly adds, out of nowhere:
"All participants are also required to undergo regular blood tests and medical checkups with our healthcare team, which oversees the entire process."
"Are we being hormonally stimulated in any way, even subtly?" Salt asks.
"We rely almost entirely on natural stimulation. We have designated areas intended to encourage natural hormone production in alphas."
"Which means?" Salt’s tone grows even more suspicious.