“Except you,” Thor says softly. “You’re an Alpha, and you are none of those things. You don’t take pleasure in the suffering of those less powerful than you. You don’t enjoy hurting others…” He snorts, nodding his head side to side. “At least not those who don’t deserve it. You are the kind of Alpha that uses his strength to keep others safe. I saw that in you the day we met.”
“Stop trying to soften me up.” I grunt, tossing another blade at him. This one grazes his bicep, but he didn’t even flinch away from the impact. He knew it would hit him and let it.Why the fuck would he do that?
“Never." The grin on his face infuriates me, almost as much as his dominance finally fucking coming out. It’s strong, but he’s not letting it reach full strength.
He could. But he won’t. Because he’s trying to show me he’s not a threat.
“You aren’t the only one with a fucked-up past, Apollo. You just wear your scars differently than I do.” Thor glances down at the blood. “You can hurt me to try and hide from your own goodness, but it won’t change anything. I still see it.”
“Where are your scars then, Thor? If we’re so fucking similar, then why can’t I see it?” I bark, grabbing another blade to twirl between my fingers.
“Fuck, I’m not trying to upset you. Listen, you’ve been free for less than half a year. I’ve been hiding my trauma for ten years. You deserve to feel however you feel, to protect yourself however you need to. You judge Alphas because you’ve seen their cruelty firsthand, and you never want to be their victim again. You’re keeping yourself safe, and that's not wrong.” He shrugs. “But don’t assume that my size means I’ve never suffered. I know the cruelty of Alphas who think they can take whatever they want.”
We’re silent for a long time after that, just staring at each other. I tell myself I should kick him out, but I don’t. I want to know what he endured. I want to know Hawthorne’s darkness. I want to see if we really do match.
Dream and I match. Beau too.
But he’s right. I’m an Alpha, and I’m none of the things I hate about them.
“Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you if you sit with me.” He nods to the couch. I’m startled when I realize I wish I could detect his scent right now. Since when do I care about an Alpha’s scent?
“Fine, but I’m bringing these,” I agree, making my way over to the seat beside him, flashing the daggers as I do.
“I would expect nothing less.” He chuckles, turning to face me when I sit. “My father was an Omega, and when I was seventeen, he was killed in front of me. He worked as a chef for a well-off family at the time, and one day, this Alpha brokeonto the property. He scented the family’s teenage daughter. She was a newly presented Omega.” He shifts in his seat, swallowing hard.
“Fuck.” I can see where this is going.
“I met her when I was six, and for eleven years we were good friends. It’s why I was there that day. She was struggling to adjust and just wanted a familiar friend to comfort her.” Thor shakes his head, leaning back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling. “My memories are blurry. I remember snapshots of different moments, like seeing this Alpha for the first time. I remember how confused I was and thinking his presence made no sense. I remember him knocking me out with one punch and waking up to the sound of my best friend screaming.” His entire body trembles as he sucks in a sharp breath.
An unfamiliar desire to comfort him washes through me, forcing my heart to race. Slowly, cautiously, I reach over and place my hand on his forearm. When he tips his head to the side and our eyes meet, I freeze.
Why does my chest ache? I feel sad for him. Sad for the girl that. Sad that I can recognize his pain like it's my own. Pity—I hate the word. What it means and how it feels, like I'm somehow beneath them. It’s as if I’m being looked down on. Being told I’m weak. Not strong enough to handle what happened to me because it left scars.
How sad you had to suffer. I’m just glad it wasn’t me, though I would have been strong enough to protect myself.
All of it is bullshit.
This feeling clawing at my chest isn't pity. It’s a soul-deep connection. Sorrow recognizes sorrow.
It's my heart saying,'I see you. You’re not alone. I’ve felt this too.'
I want to take that pain away, because I know exactly how it feels, and I hate that he has to feel it too. This is deeper than myneed to make evil people suffer. I want to make the person who hurt him pay, of course, but it's more than that. I want to go back in time and stop that moment from ever happening. Prevent his suffering.
“I hear her screams in my nightmares. I see her face covered in blood, her eyes a blank void. By the time I crawled to her side, she was already gone. My father was too late to save her." Thor’s eyes fall shut, and he winces. When he opens them again, a tear slips free and falls down his cheek. “Dad was strong for an Omega. He fought like hell, but the Alpha was stronger."
The pain in his eyes is so hard to witness, but I don’t look away. I asked him to tell me, and I won’t turn away from him now.
“There was a gun. Dad knocked it away from the Alpha. I grabbed it…” His voice rattles with the jagged emotions ripping their way out of his throat. “One shot to the temple.”
I already know this story doesn’t have a happy ending, but there’s a small, undying part of me that still hopes, even after everything, that his dad lived. But Hawthorne spoiled the ending before he even started this story.
“He couldn’t speak around the blood in his mouth, couldn’t even breathe. His chest just rattled. I didn’t know you can’t pull the blade out when someone is stabbed…he bled out in my arms before the paramedics arrived. He’s buried next to my mom.”
Fuck, there it is.
What do I say now, 'Thanks for sharing?'
