Chapter Twenty-Nine
Viper
I used to hate Knox, back when we were recruits in our den. Even then, he was a stickler for the rules. Always eager to please. Always the best, and quick to point out when others weren't.
I wasn’t the best, and he reminded me of that every chance he got.
It bugged me how perfect he was and how the instructors fawned all over him.
The way he effortlessly aced everything and the smug confidence in his eyes whenever he answered correctly filled me with a burning resentment.
I hated him up until they took him away to become a Prime Alpha. Then… I just pitied him.
Knox is more of a victim than the rest of us. Sure, we all have baggage. Stolen from our families, raised to be killing machines. Trained to be brutal and ruthless, to fight for our country and follow orders without question.
I don't know exactly what they do to train Prime Alphas, but they break something inside them. The element that makes them capable of love and curiosity.
Sure, he cares for our squad now. But it took years of shared hardship and near-death experiences to overcome his emotional barriers and forge a true brotherhood.
Halley broke down those barriers in mere weeks. Damn, maybe even days.
I find him in the corner of the courtyard where a row of punching bags are strung between pillars. He’s panting, his chest heaving, and his shirt is soaked with sweat. He clenches his fists at his sides, his knuckles white as the punching bag swings in the archway.
I don’t call out to him, just approach and hold the bag steady.
He nods curtly, his jaw clenched tight.
"I'm fine."
I know he's lying, and he knows I know. I can feel his pain and anger humming in my chest like they’re my own. I guess it’s another gift that comes from building a Pack around an Omega.
I've known Knox a long time, longer than anyone else, and this is how he deals with his emotions. He’ll be out here for hours, working the bag and punishing himself for feeling.
I brace the bag with my shoulder, inclining my head at it.
"Go on, then. Show me just how fine you are."
He looks at me with a hard expression, but I hold his gaze. I won't back down. I won't be intimidated by him. I'm not that weak kid begging for love from a Den Mother anymore.
‘Talk.’ I press, forcing my voice into his mind.
I hate it when the others make me talk. It’s not something that comes easily or I feel compelled to do. I know, in this case, Knox needs to talk. Get it out before his thoughts get jumbled up into a knotted ball which he’ll use as a weapon to beat himself up.
His shoulders sag, and he sighs. "I can’t give her what she needs…I want to, but I don't know how…"
He trails off and, with a grunt, throws a heavy punch into the bag. I brace it, absorbing the hit.
I hear between the lines. The things he leaves unsaid.
He's angry at himself. Frustrated that he can't be soft and gentle with her. Angry that his training and upbringing have stripped him of the ability to be a good Alpha to his Omega. He doesn’t have a family who showed him what love is supposed to look like.
He believes that no matter how much he wants to make it work, he’s incapable of loving without pain.
I shrug and simply say, "Watch and learn, muppet."
He looks at me, his expression unreadable, but there’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth that threatens to turn into a smile.
Watch and learn.
A phrase we both know well.
It’s been a while, but it’s something our drill instructor would say daily when we were recruits.
When the rest of our den was struggling to grasp a new technique, he’d pull us to attention, point at Knox’s perfect form and say, ‘Watch and learn, muppets.’
This time, it’s his turn to watch and learn.
He snorts in amusement and focuses back on the punching bag.
I wait for him to work out the tension in his shoulders with heavy hits, processing the fact that in this scenario, he’s not first in class, but he’s not alone. He has three brothers that will help him through this.
When he's ready, he speaks again. "I don't know if I can be soft every day. Gentle. Giving her kind words and kinder touch. That’s not me."
I take a step closer and place my hand on his shoulder. “Showing love isn’t weakness.”
He huffs a breath, swipes sweat from his eyes, and looks at the cracked stone floor.
He swallows and then words rush from him like the leaky faucet in our shitty excuse for a bathroom. “What if I’m too rough and I hurt her and she leaves us and it's my fault... again?”
I reach out, faster than he can stop me, grasp a fistful of his collar and drag him bodily into a firm hug.
He struggles, then freezes rigidly, before finally surrendering with a long, shuddering sigh.
We don't hug. Ever.
I think this might be the first time we’ve embraced that’s not as a greeting with heavy thumps on the back, or supporting each other’s weight after taking one too many bullets.
Knox is stiff and awkward, as if he doesn’t know what to do with his arms. I chuckle and squeeze him tighter.
"See? Ain't so bad."
He grumbles, but doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, his arms finally settling around me.
We stay like that for a moment before I release him and take a step back. He's still looking at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
"You didn't make her leave all on your own. You know that, right?" I say, pushing myself to speak more than I'm comfortable because that's what you do for people you love. “We’re a Pack. And when we fuck up, it’s a team effort.”
Knox snorts and swats at my shoulder with the hint of a smile. He doubts me, but he doesn’t argue.
"Come on, let's go. The others are with Halley, and we're missing out." I clasp him on the shoulder and give him a tug towards the outbuilding we've claimed as our den.
"Missing out?" he echoes, frowning.
Right.
He’s always mysteriously been AWOL when Halley would slip into her sweet O-space. He never saw just how special those moments are.
My cheeks stretch with a big grin. “You’re in for a treat, Prime.”