Chapter 7
Charlie
I kept two paces behind him, eyes low, and steps measured. The living room opened ahead, dim and quiet, the kind of space that expected obedience without needing to ask for it.
I nearly collided with Alpha Harris as he stopped short, before catching myself. He turned enough to face me. “You don’t have to trail me like a shadow. I know you’re here.”
I froze. Not because of the words. Because they weren’t a command.
They were an acknowledgment.
I lifted my gaze a fraction, enough to see his expression. Neutral. Watchful. Not cruel.
“I wasn’t trying to be a shadow,” my voice barely audible. I was only doing what I was always supposed to do.
He studied me for a moment, then stepped aside, gesturing toward the couch.
“Sit,” he said. “Not because I told you to. Just because you can.”
I hesitated. That wasn’t how it worked. Omegas were to kneel unless otherwise told, and even then, it was to be bent over naked, waiting.
He waited.
Slowly, I moved. Not gracefully. Not confidently. Just enough to let the cushion take my weight.
It felt wrong. It felt like breathing in a room I wasn’t supposed to enter. But he didn’t correct me. instead, Alpha Harris took a seat next to me, not speaking as he reached for a remote to the TV.
Keeping my back straight, eyes pinned to my folded hands in my lap, I did everything I could to keep my breathing even. The low background of the TV was quiet enough to break the silence that began to suffocate me.
“Relax, boy.”
Although the two words were spoken nicely, it felt more like an order that I wouldn’t be able to do,
Relaxing was not in my vocabulary. I could pretend, though, but something told me that this man would see right through it.
Scooting back a little bit on the couch so my back touched the cushion behind me, I forced my body to appear relaxed. My muscles stayed tight, ready for any form of touch from the man beside me.
“You’re quiet,” the Alpha said, almost amused.
I glanced at him briefly, then looked away. There were reasons Alphas liked me. My silence was one of them.
“Tell me about yourself, Charles.” Not a request.
My mind stalled. Talk about myself? There was no script for that. No rule that covered who I was beneath obedience.
I straightened just slightly, spine aligning the way I’d been taught.
I answered with my eyes pinned to a spot that became blurry quickly. “I’m twenty-one. I follow orders. I don’t speak unless asked. I’m clean, compliant, and trained in all standard protocols.”
It came out smoothly. Polished. Like a résumé written in bruises.
“That’s not who you are,” he said quietly. “That’s who you were told to be.” The words landed like a soft blow.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to. No Alpha ever wanted to know the true version of who we are. Omegas were only ever objects to be used and taken apart. Over and over again.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “I didn’t ask for your file. I asked for you.”
My throat tightened.
I could recite rules. I could list punishments. I could catalog every correction I’d ever earned. But I didn’t know how to speak myself into existence.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. The words didn’t come in order. They came in pieces.
“I like quiet,” I said finally. “It’s easier to think when no one’s watching.”
Alpha Harris didn’t interrupt.
“I used to read,” I added. “Before… before things changed.” That was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth. I still read when the quiet got to be too much or when I had any sort of downtime. Which, sadly, wasn’t as often as it once was.
I didn’t say what I read. Or why I stopped. Or how the pages started to feel like lies when the rules became louder than the stories.
“I don’t like loud voices,” I went on. “Or closed doors.” Another truth. Another fragment.
Alpha Harris nodded slowly, like he was listening to the shape of what I didn’t say.
“What’s your normal day look like?” He sat back, body slack.
Did he really want to know?
The words came slightly easier, but they still felt strange on my lips as I spoke them aloud to the quiet room.
“All Omegas are to be up by six thirty sharp, breakfast at seven. Then we have studies and chores for some of us. Lunch is at noon for our age group, then more studies, chores and clients. Once a month, I have an appointment for my hair and other needs.”
“What do you study?”
How to be the perfect Omega to an Alpha, I thought.
Instead of saying that, though, I spoke different words.
My voice low, “I don’t, Sir. Studies are no longer needed at my age.
I am to be of service in whatever capacity that I can be for those around me.
Let it be to help with the younger children, clean, or meal prep. Or service a client.”
“I’m an Omega. I exist to serve. Whether it’s you or any other Alpha.” The words tasted like ash. I’d said them before. Memorized and lived them. But this time, they scraped something raw inside me.
My heart recoiled, aching against the shape it had been forced to hold. Wanting didn’t change anything. It only made obedience hurt more.
“You said you liked to read.” Liked, past tense. I only nodded, a simple dip of my head before he went on. “What did you read?”
Halfway thankful for the change of topic, I answered quietly. This time, I was less unsure about my word choice, not having to think so hard on how to reply.
“Fiction, mostly. I don’t get many options at Lockswell.
” And for good reasons. The guards and teachers didn’t need Omegas thinking that they could escape and have fairy tales like lives in the wild.
“But otherwise, it was the rules and history of how Omegas came to be. The few books that were more adventurous are there, and I read them multiple times over the years.” Until about a year ago when a guard got his feelings hurt and thought he needed to check every Omega’s room for counterfeit items. Not that I had anything of that sort, but that didn’t stop him.
Or him finding something that wasn’t mine.
Truthfully, I read whatever I could get my hands on. The tiny library was mostly filled with children’s books, but there were a few older books hidden in there. Ones that were given to Omegas by Alphas over the years and left behind.
None of the books contained things that would jeopardize the view of the world for an Omega. Just simple books about times before Omegas were kept in boardings houses, or about nature and landmarks around the world.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t tell me I was wrong. Instead, Alpha Harris reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a small object that was worn, folded, familiar.
A book.
Not one of the regulation texts. Not protocol. Not obedience training. It was fiction. The cover, although dull, had bold words engraved into the leather top.
He set it on the cushion between us, the spine cracked, the pages soft from use.
“I used to read this when I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “It’s not about Omegas. Or Alphas. Or rules.”
I stared at it.
He didn’t push it toward me. Didn’t tell me to take it. Just left it there.
My fingers twitched. Not from desire. From confusion. Because I didn’t know how to want something that wasn’t survival.
And I didn’t know how to accept something that wasn’t earned. But the book stayed there. Waiting. Like he wasn’t asking me to read it. Just to exist beside it.
“You are welcome to take it to your room later.”
When I still didn’t reach out to take it, Alpha Harris shrugged, like it wasn’t a huge deal if I took it or not. Maybe, it wasn’t to him. But to me, the simple act of offering me a book of all things, meant more than words ever could express.
“What do you do in your free time?” Again, his voice was open, as if he really wanted to know.
Didn’t he know, though, that Omegas didn’t have free time? That each waking moment was filled with something, some sort of chore or appointment?
“You must do something. Have a hobby, at least?”
“No, Sir. I am always perfecting my ability to serve an Alpha.” A robotic response, like most answers were when asked by anyone these days. Just as I had been trained to do.
Alpha Harris hummed. His gaze was questionable, but whatever he thought he didn’t speak of it. Instead, he once again changed the subject. “I remember the first time I met Adrian. Moore was already headfirst into the relationship with the boy. He wasn’t timid or fearful of the world.”
He’d also not been hurt like I have, I thought.
“He was reserved, but spoke his mind.”
Something he’d been punished for many times.
“Obedient, of course, like every Omega I’ve met. But he’s the best match for Moore.”
Of course Adrian would be. We were trained to be whatever an Alpha wanted. We were trained to become whatever version we needed to be to please the Alpha we had to tend to.
And apparently, I wasn’t doing a good enough job in my role, since Alpha Harris seemed to be comparing the two of us.
“How may I serve you, Sir, while I’m in your care?” The words came out smooth, practiced, like a line I’d recited too many times to forget.
He didn’t answer right away and I kept my gaze down, afraid that his expression might reveal more than I was ready to act on. Because if he wanted something, I’d have to give it. Even if it broke me.
After a long, deliberate pause, he reached out. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, gentle, careful, like he was touching something fragile.
“What I want,” he said, voice low, “is conversation, Charles. Just that.”
I looked up, cautious.
Conversation.
It sounded simple. But it wasn’t. Talking had never safe.
My thoughts didn’t fit the mold Omegas were trained to wear.
They were jagged, misaligned—too sharp, and too honest. So I learned to silence them.
To speak only when the words were pre-approved.
To choose carefully. Because the wrong sentence could cost more than correction.
As a trained Omega, I had no options but to do as the Alpha wanted. That was my entire purpose.
“What do you want to talk about, Sir?” It took concentration not to stutter over the words.
“Many things.”
I took the moment to look at him, to gauge his thoughts and emotions. Vincent Harris was content, sitting with one leg bent at an angle over the other. His shoes were off, showing black socks that matched the rest of his attire.
“But we’ll start with something easy. I want you to answer with the first thing that pops into your mind. No robotic response. I want to know the real you.”
“Yes, Sir.” Not a promise I could keep, but I’d try. Or at least mentally have a thousand replies ready to answer with.
“What’s your favorite food? Mine would have to be cheesy garlic chicken pasta.”
“Beef stew,” I answered easily. It was mostly veggies and a few potatoes thrown in with juicy meat. At Lockswell, there was a good rotation of food, and once a month there’d be at least one item that was brand new. Although, anything with potatoes were the best days.
Things with a lot of carbs weren’t offered often, which given how all Omegas had to keep our figure and weight limit, it made sense.
I remember Adrian mentioning that too. That stew’s not served often, is it?”
“Only on holidays,” I said. “Sometimes we’d get pie. Maybe a cookie if it was a major one.”
Vincent leaned back slightly, thoughtful. “Then let’s go to the store tomorrow. We’ll get what we need to make it ourselves. I’m not sure what all goes into it.”
“It’s simple,” I replied, the words slipping out before I could second-guess them. “Stew meat, pork works best, but it has to be cooked first. Potatoes, seasoning, and a mix of vegetables.”
I hesitated, then added, “It’s better with gravy. Thick enough to soak into the meat and potatoes. Makes it taste like it’s been simmering all day.”
He smiled. “Sounds delicious.”
Heat crept into my cheeks. I looked away, unsure why that word delicious felt more intimate than it should.