“This isn’t what I wanted. You…. you were to be…. Not here. Not harmful. Not…. this.”
My words came out harsher than I intended. They came out with part growl, not fully formed, as anger took ahold.
How could anyone harm such a being? Didn’t they know how precious Omega’s were to society?
This place was to keep them safe, no matter how they came to be here. This place was said that they prided themselves on how they raised Omegas, training them to be human with love and kindness, but also to be what any Alpha could possibly dream of wanting.
But this….
This Omega before me was none of that. He was shattered.
As I paced the room, pulling at my hair, I didn’t notice when Kasey slowly stood, pulling himself onto the bed. I didn’t notice how pale his face went, or how weak he was.I didn’t notice any of it until I passed the end of the bed, seeing a single glimpse of something I wish I could unsee.
Kasey was on all fours, ass in the air, arms stretched out before him like an offering.
If it was any other time, any other place, it’d have been a sight to cherish, a sight to behold and never forget.
Instead, a growl bubbled forth from my chest as old and new scars and welts decorated his back glared at me.
“Fuck, Kase.”
How had he survived any of this?
Up close, the evidence of what he’d endured was impossible to ignore.
Faint marks crossed his back in uneven patterns, layered over each other like history no one had bothered to hide. Years of it. Years he’d been alone.
But then, right there, right on top of his shoulder blades, sat on a birthmark. The tiny shape I used to tease him about, the one that looked like the smallest flower on earth. Two little petals pressed together, darker than the rest of his skin, like someone had touched him there once and left a little blessing behind.
I used to joke that an angel had kissed him. He used to roll his eyes and laugh.
Seeing it now knocked the air out of me.
If I’d had even a sliver of doubt about who this Omega was, it vanished the moment I saw that mark. This is Kasey. The boy I’d sworn to protect. The boy I’d lost.
And the boy who didn’t even know I was standing right here.
My hand moved on its own accord, reaching out to touch the mark. I hoovered right above the skin, feeling the heat of Kasey, yet it was too far away, fighting the instinct to pull back.
But I needed to know, needed to feel it. I needed to prove to myself that he was real and not some cruel hallucination my mind had conjured after ten years of searching.
My fingertips brushed the small mark between his shoulder blades. I traced the familiar shape.
His skin was warm beneath my touch, yet he didn’t stir. He stayed perfectly still, like my touch was nothing.
Not able to help myself, my fingertips trailed down his back, taking in the peppered scars and welts. My eyes followed, tracking the stripes that zig zagged. Tracked how a few welts looked as though they were beginning to become infected. Tracked how skinny this boy was by the way his spine popped out beneath his skin.
When was the last time he had a decent meal?
“When I get you home,” I murmured, my hand still resting against the small mark between his shoulders, “I’m going to make your favorite. I’m pretty sure I still have everything for honey bread.”
The memory rose so clearly it almost hurt.
Kasey standing on a stool beside my mother, sleeves rolled up, face dusted with flour. He’d loved helping her mix the dough, always sneaking tastes of honey when he thought no onewas looking. And she’d adored him for it, teaching him every step like he was her own.
Sometimes I join them. Most of the time, I just watched — the two of them laughing in the kitchen, sunlight catching in Kasey’s hair, the whole world feeling simple for a little while.
My fingers brushed the base of his spine, feeling the faint thrum of his pulse beneath his skin that was far too thin. He was fragile, worn down, exhausted, barely holding himself upright.
