Chapter 13 #2
I placed the pillow at his feet, folded my legs, and settled onto it. Close enough to lean into him if I wanted. But I didn’t. Not yet. Instead, I opened the book to where I’d left off the night before. And within moments, the words pulled me under—quiet, steady, safe. For now, that was enough.
I could hear the soft tapping of keys, the occasional shift of paper, the low hum of the Alpha’s concentration. It was background noise as much as a reminder that he could need me at any time.
I stayed where I was at his feet, legs folded beneath me, book open in my lap. The words began to blur a little at the edges, not because the story wasn’t good, but because part of me was still listening.
Then a small shift happened. His leg moved slightly closer to mine, not touching, but near enough that I could feel the warmth through the fabric.
He didn’t speak. Just let me be there. And somehow, that felt louder than words.
I turned a page, letting the story pull me back in. But I stayed aware of him. Of the quiet way he made space. Of the fact that, for once, I didn’t feel like I had to earn it.
As I read the pages, flipping each one carefully, Alpha Harris’s typing slowed. The clicks grew further apart, and the glances at me increased.
Was I doing the right thing? Sitting at his feet, waiting for an order? Did he want his space?
I was slowly starting to enjoy his quiet moments, even though there hadn’t been that many hours in his house.
I could already feel it; how easily this kind of stillness could become something I craved. Not the silence of Lockswell House, where quiet meant tension.
But this.
Moments like this.
Reading at the feet of an Alpha who didn’t demand, didn’t correct. One who just allowed this.
When his hand landed gently on my head, fingers threading through my hair, I nearly flinched. Not from fear. Just from surprise. But the touch was steady. Familiar. Like before, it didn’t ask anything of me. It simply existed.
My eyes slipped closed, the book forgotten for a moment. I found myself wishing I’d known this kind of peace existed. A space where my mind could drift somewhere soft. Somewhere safe. Instead of always clawing its way out of the dark.
I hadn’t leaned into him, but I hadn’t pulled away either. And that was enough.
After a long moment, his voice broke the quiet. It was low, steady, like it had been waiting for the right time.
“You settle well.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how.
He let the silence stretch again, then added, “You don’t have to earn this, Charles.” His thumb brushed lightly against my temple. “This peace. This quiet. It’s yours, even if no one ever taught you how to hold it.”
I kept my eyes closed. Not because I was tired. Because I didn’t want to lose the moment.
Vincent didn’t speak right away. His hand stayed in my hair, steady, unmoving. Then, after a long pause, he said, “I had a brother once.”
The words were soft. Not fragile—just carefully placed.
I didn’t move. Didn’t ask. Just listened.
“He was younger. Quiet. Too quiet.” His voice didn’t waver, but something in it shifted like he was walking across a memory he hadn’t touched in years. “He didn’t know he and I were so different, being so young. But I knew. I knew the instant he was old enough to talk.”
I felt his thumb brush lightly against my temple again.
“He wasn’t the first kid to be born in the house after me, but he was the one that I thought would stay.
” Another pause. “My parents, mostly my father, thought Omega children weren’t worth keeping.
When the blood test came back, my brother was only seven.
He was supposed to be at least a Beta, so I could have a friend, a buddy.
But it was Omega, and Father was furious. ”
He exhaled, low and steady.
“I begged. The only time I ever asked to keep something. But Father did what he always did. Sent my baby brother to a boarding house, where I’d never be able to see him again.”
I opened my eyes, just barely, and looked up at him. He was staring ahead, not at me. But his hand hadn’t moved.
“He was the best parts of me, and when my own mother stood back and let it happen, I wasn’t sure I could live a life like that.”
And just like that, the silence between us wasn’t empty anymore. It was full. Of memory. Of intention. Of something that felt dangerously close to care.
“I hate the idea of boarding houses, and wasn’t thrilled with Moore’s idea to meet you, let alone bring you here.
But I see why Adrian was so intent on you now.
You remind me of him – my brother, I mean.
He liked simple things, but always feared Alpha men.
Which most Omegas do, and for good reason. ”
“What was his name?” The question was out before I could think it over. But it was too late to take it back.
Alpha Harris gave me a tender look before answering. I could no longer help but lean into his leg, soaking up whatever he offered me.
“Micha.”
With that one word, I knew almost instantly who the Omega in Lockswell could be.
There weren’t really any similarities between the man before me and the younger Omega that I had tended to a few times over the years.
I didn’t remember him coming in, because there was always Omegas being sent in at all ages. They all cried, they were all confused and homesick. Most of the time, they didn’t take to learning the rules too well, oftentimes being sent to the basement for behavioral punishments.
But Micha…if he was in fact the same person, wasn’t like those. He never uttered a word. He cried, a lot, and often was covered in bruises from clients. He wasn’t supposed to be seeing clients, but the ones he saw paid good money, or so I assumed.
There wasn’t anything I could do, of course. Not when I was a simple, lowly Omega with no money and no ties to anyone.
I didn’t see a point in telling this Alpha, but the words were there, and I spoke them anyways. My voice was low, even, a bit of fear mixed with them. “I know a Micha.” I licked my lips. “He’s quiet. Quiter than me.”
“Is he safe?” It was almost as though Alpha Harris didn’t want to ask.
“As safe as I am there.” It all depended on how one looked at that word. Our needs were met, and we were healthy, for the most part. But mentally, we weren’t okay. I wasn’t the only one who hated it there, stuck in a prison with high walls and no way out.
“That doesn’t really help me have much confidence that anyone is safe there.”
It wasn’t like we could go anywhere else. If no one wanted us, where else would we be kept? Living on the streets wasn’t possible for any of us, that was for sure.
“As long as we follow the rules, we are okay, Sir. It’s all to train us to be what an Alpha needs.
” The robotic response was something that was drilled into us since the time we learned to talk and behave a certain way.
The trainers always expected someone to question us and we had to know how to respond to please them.