Chapter 8
Vincent
Charles was... different.
High cheekbones, a frame so slight it looked like silence had shaped it, and that same timidity that clung to him like a second skin.
The few times his gaze brushed mine, I felt it like a ripple. There was fear in his pale eyes. Not panic. Not defiance. Just the kind that settled deep and stayed quiet. But beneath it, something flickered.
Something small. Fragile. The kind of softness that made me want to wrap him up and hold on until the world forgot how to hurt him
Trying to get him to open up was next to impossible. When I thought we had moved one step forward, he went two steps backwards instead.
After Charles had described the stew, he’d gone back to one or two word answers. It was as though he thought he’d given too much away or remembered his place.
What I wanted, other than conversation, was to see who he truly was. I wanted to know his thoughts and likes.
I understood now what Moore saw in Adrian.
For the longest time, I’d quietly envied him—his certainty, his devotion, the way he fell so fast for someone so seemingly simple. I’d thought he was reckless. Na?ve. But now, in less than twelve hours , I felt myself slipping.
Not into love. It wasn’t that. Not yet. But something was shifting. Something I couldn’t name.
Charles was likeable, the way most Omegas were trained to be. Soft-spoken, agreeable, molded to fit whatever shape an Alpha needed. I knew that. I’d seen it before. And maybe that’s why I felt the pull. Because he was familiar.
There was something else, too. Something in the way he didn’t quite fit the mold.
Something in the way he looked at the world like it might bruise him, but he’d still walk through it anyway.
I hadn’t meant to stare. I told myself I was observing, making sure the Omega was adjusting, settling in, following the rules. But somewhere between the silence and the way Charles tucked his hands in between his legs, I forgot to look away.
Charles wasn’t doing anything remarkable. Just sitting at the edge of the couch, posture careful, eyes lowered. But there was something in the way he breathed like each inhale was measured, rationed, as if comfort had to be earned in increments.
My gaze lingered long enough that when he shifted slightly, I felt it like a ripple. I looked away, jaw tightening.
It wasn’t attraction. Not exactly. It was recognition. Of restraint. Of silence. Of someone who’d learned to disappear without leaving the room.
I cleared my throat, stood, and crossed to the window, pretending to check the weather. But the image of Charles stayed with me.
Not because he was an Omega. Because he was still trying to exist inside a space that had never been built for softness.
It’d take time for his true self to be revealed. Time and patience and encouragement.
Any Alpha that ended up with Charles would be lucky.
“You must be tired,” I turned, facing him once more. It’d been a long day for me. Maybe he needed time to himself, I thought. Time to look at the book or watch TV or just to go to bed early.
At my words, Charles stood up silently. His eyes flashed to the book before bouncing to me. then his gaze went to the floor as he folded his hands behind his back.
“You can take the book. There’s a toothbrush under the sink, along with any other things you may need. Feel free to take a shower tonight or in the morning.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
The words were rushed out, as though he feared I’d change my mind. He quickly picked up the book, hiding it behind himself.
I barely contained my smile at his reaction. I knew without a doubt that he’d never had anything of his own before, just like Adrian.
It wasn’t permitted at boarding houses, but still seemed unfair.
“Go ahead,” I said quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning. You can leave the door open or shut it. Whichever feels right to you.”
He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, eyes flicking over me like he was waiting for the catch.
I wasn’t sure what the rules were for bedrooms at Lockswell House, and I didn’t ask. Some things were better left undefined.
Charles dipped his head in acknowledgment, then turned sharply on his heel.
His steps were so light, so practiced, that I didn’t hear a single sound as he vanished around the corner.
Only the faint shift of air remained, like he’d taken the silence with him.
I exhaled a long breath, and with it my shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t expected to be so worried, so stressed, over the fact of having an Omega in the house. Others had made it seem and appear so easily.
Glancing at the clock, it was just after nine. The sun had already set, casting shadows through the house where the light didn’t touch.
Normally, I’d be getting ready for bed, my thoughts clouded with work. Unless it was the off Saturday where I decided to seek solitude among likeminded people. Those days weren’t often, despite how much Moore tried to get me to go out.
I didn’t mind the quiet, nor the empty house. It wasn’t like I was home often enough to remember how lonesome it could become.
Growing up, the house was mostly quiet. And when it wasn’t, I wished it was.
My father wasn’t cruel at least not in the way people define it. But he wasn’t built to be a father either.
He chased perfection like it owed him something. Perfect grades. Perfect posture. Perfect wife. Perfect son.
Anything less was a flaw. And flaws didn’t belong in his house.
When I fell short—and I always did—his belt or his fists filled in the gaps.
Not out of rage. Out of disappointment.
Being born an Alpha wasn’t enough for him. I had to earn it. And no matter how hard I tried, I never did.
My father taught me that being Alpha meant control. Not just over yourself, but over everything that moved beneath you.
Omegas weren’t people in his eyes. They were roles. Functions. Proof that dominance worked.
It was in the way he spoke to my mother. The way he corrected my posture. The way he looked at Omegas like they were born to be reminders of what power looked like when it behaved.
I carried that with me longer than I realized. Not the violence. Not the cruelty. Just the assumption that Omegas were meant to be quiet. Meant to serve. Meant to fit.
And then Charles walked into my house. He didn’t speak much. Didn’t resist my small orders I had given. But there was something in the way he moved, like he was surviving, not submitting, made me question everything I thought I understood.
He wasn’t defiant. But he wasn’t empty either.
My father always demanded those around him to submit, especially any Omega. If they didn’t, he’d look down on them like they were nothing more but a pest on the bottom of his shoe.
It was normal, or so I thought it was until I saw Moore with Adrian. Moore’s family growing up was less strict, more about having fun and enjoying one’s company. Making memories that would shape them to be great people in the world. It was the opposite of my own.
And now, those two had a great relationship going. They treated each other as equals, as though they were always meant to do just that. But also, I wasn’t sure how they behaved behind closed doors when no one was looking.
Seeing how Adrian handled the Omega that was in my care spoke volumes on so many levels.
Would I ever have that type of relationship, one where my Omega looked at me like I hung the moon? One where he’d kneel before me as though he wanted to, because he could instead of being forced?
I wasn’t unkind to any Omega. I just had this idea for so long on what to expect from them. I wanted their submission, because who didn’t. But at the same time, I wanted so much more. Wanted things that I wasn’t sure would be possible.
Brushing the thoughts away, I turned off all the lights and made sure that the doors were locked. The alarm was set too.
I wasn’t worried about Charles running off, mostly because first, he was well trained, and second he had a tracking device on his wrist. Even if he tried to run, he’d be found.
Like most nights, I paused halfway up the stairs. The small table sat tucked against the wall, more decorative than meaningful, except for the stuffed bunny.
The photo frame beside it was just filler, something to make the worn toy look intentional instead of forgotten.
The bunny hadn’t moved. Its long ears were frayed from years of touch, its fur dulled by time. But it still sat there, exactly as it always had.
My chest tightened, just slightly. Not from grief. Not from longing. Just the quiet ache of remembering why I’d never let it go.
And I wouldn’t.
Some things weren’t meant to be discarded. Even if no one else understood why they mattered.
I knew things wouldn’t change. The past would forever stay there. But still, the reminder of what my parents were capable of would forever be engraved into my memory.
I wasn’t the only child they had. I may be the only one they kept, but that small fact almost hurt worse knowing what I did today.
My mother didn’t have a say, and she couldn’t be at fault for that one bit. Omegas back then had less weight in the household than today, but still it was all up to the Alpha of the house. Some ran their households just the same as how I was raised in my home.
I didn’t want to fall into that same crack.
Hence why I hadn’t yet settled down with an Omega. I hadn’t wanted to entertain the thought of it, either. Not really, at least.
My parents may have tainted me for any relationship, even my own with them. It’d been years since I saw either of them, and I didn’t care if I ever crossed paths with them for many more years.
If only I could go back in time and change things, maybe I’d at least be able to see my mother again one last time. But that wasn’t an option. Not with her being six feet under the ground, her body eaten away by bugs.