25. Unspoken Truths Of A Leader
Unspoken Truths Of A Leader
~ H OLMES~
The sound of shuffling footsteps reaches my ears, but my mind processes them sluggishly, caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness. The discomfort in my neck nags at me, reminding me I've dozed off in an awkward position, but the sweet scent surrounding me makes it hard to care.
Elizabeth's scent.
It wraps around me like a cocoon, making the idea of full consciousness seem less appealing than staying in this bubble of peace.
"Damn, he's asleep asleep," Carter's whisper filters through my semi-conscious state.
"Shh!" Felix's voice follows, barely audible. "So be quiet for once in your fucking life and not wake him up."
A third voice joins them, taking my brain longer to process than it should.
"Why do you guys act as if the man is a vampire and never sleeps?"
Morrison.
"Holmes doesn't really sleep well," Felix explains quietly. "And even when he does fall asleep, he's a super light sleeper. Like, concerningly light."
"Is there a reason for that?"
The silence that follows James' question feels heavy, loaded with unspoken history. I can practically feel them exchanging glances, deciding how much to reveal.
"We're only mentioning it because we're going to be a pack for this damned semester," Carter finally says, his voice carrying an edge of reluctance, "and since you did save our asses in the last twenty-four hours..."
He pauses, letting the weight of his next words settle.
"The culprit of the scar on Holmes' face had drugged him in his sleep. They injected him when he was in a vulnerable state, and when he woke up, he was tied and in their captivity."
The silence that follows is deafening.
Even without seeing their expressions, I can feel the tension thickening the air.
"Who did it?" James asks, his voice carrying that dangerous edge I'm starting to recognize. Another prolonged stillness fills the space before Carter mutters her name.
"Vivian Sinclair."
My muscles tense involuntarily at the name, but I force myself to maintain the appearance of sleep.
"I can see the gears moving in your head," Carter continues. "Don't bother. The bitch has been dead for a few years now, though the wounds still remain."
"Scars," Felix corrects quietly.
"Well, it shouldn't define him," James says with surprising conviction. "He shouldn't hide it when it's something he survived from."
"That's something Abbie would say," Carter remarks, amusement creeping into his tone.
"Of course, my Eli would say that," James huffs. "We think alike."
"You better calm down with your whole 'I'm the past rival friend/boyfriend/fake lover' bullshit," Carter growls, though there's more exasperation than real anger in his voice.
Felix's quiet chuckle follows.
"You sound like a jealous fool because you're like the last in some race."
"I'm in the lead like the hare," Carter argues. "You're the one in last place."
"I'm simply going at the tortoise's pace," Felix counters smoothly. "Slow and steady wins the race."
"Whatever," Carter mutters, but there's fondness beneath the dismissal.
The room falls quiet for a moment before James speaks again.
"I can see why you guys balance each other out."
"How so?" Felix asks with genuine curiosity in his tone.
"Despite how different each of you are, you respect that balance," James explains. "Even with Holmes being the biggest douche."
I hear Carter choke on what must be his own saliva while Felix barely contains a snicker.
"You know," James continues, his voice dropping lower, more serious, "it's all just to protect him from being hurt again."
The words hit harder than expected, even though I've known this truth for years. Hearing it stated so plainly by someone who barely knows us makes it impossible to ignore.
They think I'm asleep, having this conversation over my supposedly unconscious form, but every word sinks in with perfect clarity. The way they dance around certain details, the protective note in their voices, the careful way they share information with James...
They've been shielding me all along.
Not just from physical threats or business rivals, but from emotional vulnerability. From the possibility of being hurt again the way Vivian hurt me.
The realization settles heavily in my chest, mixing with the lingering warmth of Elizabeth's earlier words about breaking shackles and refusing to let the past define me.
They need to be broken…the shackles…so I’m no longer held behind from what’s meant for me.
The thought terrifies me almost as much as it appeals to me.
"Why is the Holmes Empire struggling when its foundations are as strong as ever?" James asks, his tone suggesting genuine curiosity rather than judgment.
The silence that follows feels weighted, and I can almost picture James assuming they don't know. But then Carter speaks up, his voice carrying an edge of careful consideration.
"I've been aware of the struggles," he admits quietly. "But I've been waiting for Holmes to bring it up himself. So we could confront it as a unit and fix it together."
What…
The revelation hits me harder than expected. All this time, I thought I'd been hiding our decline successfully, protecting them from yet another of my failures.
But Carter knew.
He knew and was waiting for me to ask for help.
"We did the statistics months ago," Felix adds, his tone matter-of-fact but gentle. "Mapped out exactly what it would take to restore, if not rejuvenate, the empire's standing. But we didn't want to intrude."
A soft shuffling suggests he's adjusting his glasses — meaning he's choosing his next words carefully.
"A man's pride comes from the work and effort he puts into what keeps him alive, balanced, and thriving," he continues. "If we had interfered without being asked... it would have shown a lack of respect for his judgment. We couldn't give that impression, especially not to our Alpha."
The words settle in my chest like lead. All this time, they've had solutions ready, waiting only for me to swallow my pride and ask.
"So you decided to wait until he asked for help?" James clarifies.
"Yes," Carter confirms simply.
"And did he ever ask?"
"Nope," Felix says, popping the 'p' slightly.
James sighs, and I can picture him running a hand through his hair — a gesture I've noticed he makes when piecing together a puzzle.
"But what started this cascade?" he asks. "What triggered the downward spiral when the empire was at its peak?"
"Vivian." Felix's response is immediate and cold.
The name still sends a chill down my spine, even after all these years. Even in death, her shadow looms large over everything I've built — or rather, everything she helped destroy.
"She plotted his demise in all areas," James concludes, his voice hardening as he puts the pieces together.
Carter lets out a heavy sigh.
"She used every connection she had to essentially blacklist Holmes and his empire," he explains, the words coming out tired and bitter. "Made sure deals would fall through, partnerships would crumble, connections would drop away. No one wanted to risk dealing with someone who'd been marked by a Sinclair."
Marked in more ways than one.
The physical scar was just the most visible sign of her revenge. The real damage was done in board rooms and back- channel communications, in whispered rumors and carefully orchestrated "coincidences" that left my empire bleeding out slowly but surely.
The silence that follows is heavy with shared understanding. But then James speaks, his voice carrying an unexpected note of determination.
"Well, we'll change that tomorrow then."
The simple declaration hangs in the air like a challenge. There's no hesitation in his tone, no careful hedging or polite distance. Just pure conviction, as if reversing years of carefully orchestrated destruction is as simple as deciding to do so.
As if he truly believes we can undo what Vivian did.
"Just like that?" Carter asks, skepticism clear in his voice.
"Just like that," James confirms. "The Morrison Empire didn't get where it is by playing nice with others' prejudices. If people won't work with Holmes because of Vivian's blacklisting, they'll work with him because they can't afford not to with me in the picture."
I feel Felix shift slightly.
"You'd put your empire's reputation on the line for this?" he asks carefully.
"For the pack? Yes." James's response is immediate. "Besides, it's not really a risk. Holmes's business acumen was never the problem. It was just Vivian's vendetta poisoning the well. Remove that poison..."
"And the well can flow freely again," Carter finishes, understanding dawning in his tone.
The metaphor isn't subtle, but it's accurate.
Vivian's influence has been like poison in my empire's veins, slowly choking off vital connections and opportunities.
But poison can be purged, given the right antidote.
Given the right allies.
"The Morrison name carries weight," James continues, his voice taking on that edge of authority I've noticed he uses when discussing business. "Weight that even the Sinclairs can't ignore. If we combine our resources, realign our interests..."
"We could essentially force a reset of the market's perception," Felix concludes, and I can hear the calculations already running in his mind.
"Exactly. And once people see the potential returns from working with a combined Morrison-Holmes venture..."
"They'll conveniently forget whatever reservations Vivian planted," Carter says, a grin evident in his voice.
The casual way they discuss dismantling years of careful sabotage should probably bother me. Their easy assumption that I'll agree to this plan, their readiness to reshape the market around their will — it should feel like overstepping.
But all I feel is a weight lifting from my chest.
A weight I'd carried for so long I'd forgotten what it felt like to breathe without it.
Maybe this is what Elizabeth meant about breaking shackles.
"I'll tell Holmes in the morning before we begin," James says, his voice carrying that casual authority that makes even simple statements sound like royal decrees. "And if he doesn't like it..." He pauses, and I can practically hear his shrug. "Well, he has no choice. Whatever path will make the Morrison Empire rise is the path I'm taking."
"You're making yourself sound like a bad guy," Carter mutters, though there's amusement in his tone.
James' quiet laugh fills the room.
"If that means getting a stubborn man hiding a heart of gold to go along with it, so be it." His voice softens slightly. "Besides, we should start spreading the word that we have a potential Omega."
"Why's that?" Felix asks, curiosity evident in his tone.
"Because it'll get them talking," James explains, enthusiasm creeping into his voice. "Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away, and then the holiday season hits. You know how the underground gets during the social season, everyone watching everyone else, measuring success by who shows up where with whom."
I can hear him shifting, probably leaning forward as he continues.
"By starting the hype now, dropping hints about our pack's potential Omega, we'll have them salivating for information by the time the first events roll around. They'll be desperate to see us in the flesh, to confirm the rumors."
"Create artificial scarcity of information," Felix muses. "Drive up interest through strategic mystery."
"Exactly," James confirms. "By the time we make our first public appearance, they'll be so invested in the story they've created in their heads, they won't even remember why they were avoiding business with Holmes in the first place."
"We'll let you know when he's awake," Carter says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "This might actually be fun."
"We should get some real sleep," Felix suggests. "Carter, you want to grab Eli? I'll help James with Holmes before he permanently damages his neck or something else now that he's getting old."
"He's twenty-eight," Carter chuckles. "Not forty-eight."
"Whatever," James retorts. "He acts like an old man."
Their quiet laughter fills the space, warm and genuine in a way that makes something in my chest ache.
"Ready to do this for the next six weeks?" Carter asks, and I hear him moving closer, probably to collect Elizabeth. “Survive some classes, deal with Thanksgiving, prove we love our Omega and voila. By Christmas, we sign those papers and we’ll be free from this initiation bullshit at Knot Academy.”
“Hard Knot Academy,” James taunts in correction, making Carter growl.
"Ready," Felix says firmly, trying to maintain the peace. "And I'm positive we can drag Holmes along if necessary."
"Good," James approves. "It's time this fearsome leader had someone to rely on too."
I remain perfectly still as they maneuver me, refusing to give away my consciousness. But inside, my mind is racing, processing everything I've heard.
All this time, I thought I was protecting them by handling things alone. By maintaining distance, by carrying my burdens in silence. But they've been waiting — all of them, even James who barely knows me — waiting for me to realize I don't have to do this alone.
That maybe I never did.
Elizabeth's words from earlier echo in my mind:
"Those shackles…they break today."
She couldn't have known how deeply those words would resonate, how perfectly they'd align with this moment of revelation. The shackles weren't just Vivian's influence on the business world, or the scar that made me hide behind silk.
They were my own stubborn pride, my refusal to let anyone help carry the weight of rebuilding.
As sleep begins to reclaim me, real this time, I make a silent vow to myself.
It's time to step out of the shadows I've been hiding in, to reclaim my place in the ruthless community that's been waiting for my return.
Not alone this time.
But with a pack that's stronger than I ever realized.
With Alphas who've been planning my resurrection while respecting my need to ask for it. With an Omega who sees through the walls, I thought were impenetrable.
The last thought that crosses my mind before consciousness fades completely is that maybe this is what real power looks like — not the ability to stand alone, but the strength to let others stand with you.
As darkness claims me, I feel the ghost of Elizabeth's touch on my scarred eye, the echo of her conviction that I'm worth fighting for.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to believe she might be right.
And in that belief, in that surrender to the possibility of something better, I find a peace I thought I'd lost forever.