I moved slowly up the stairs. Each step sent a dull ache through my feet, but I didn’t flinch.
Halfway up, my hand brushed the banister, and something in the texture pulled me back mentally.
To a hallway lined with concrete walls and fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
A voice barking orders. Knees on tile. Hands behind my back.
“Stillness is earned,” they’d said. “Not given.”
I’d learned to hold my breath for approval. To mistake quiet for safety. To confuse obedience with worth. I had learned to keep my thoughts to myself.
I blinked hard, forcing the memory back into its box. It didn’t belong in this house, where the floor didn’t smell of bleach.
Chapter 12
Vincent
Charles had already proven how well he followed orders. By the time I finished tying my shoes, he was standing at the front door, shoes on, posture composed with his head bowed.
I didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were on me. He’d been watching me since the moment I stepped into that room yesterday.
Not out of fear or calculation. He was learning me to not just please me, but to anticipate every need I’d have. And that kind of attention was rare. Rare and dangerous, if I wasn’t careful with it.
I knew Alphas who took that power to heart, twisting it to their own twisted needs and wants without a care in the world.
I didn’t speak right away. Instead, I simply stepped aside, letting the Omega pass through the doorway first.
Then, without looking back, I said, “Keys.” No explanation. No direction. Just the word. And within seconds, Charlie was moving without hesitating. He crossed the room, retrieved the keys from the dish near the entryway, and placed them in my hand.
I didn’t smile, I noted the timing and instinct that Charles didn’t just follow my order, but he knew what I’d want, or at last had an idea of what to expect from me.
Once in the car, Charles in the passenger seat, I backed up from the driveway before driving down road towards town.
Unlike the last time the boy was in that seat, he was aware of his surroundings. His eyes watched at the scenery passing us by, as though he’d never seen any of it before. For all I knew, he hadn’t.
The car was quiet. Not silent, just filled with the kind of stillness that didn’t need to be filled.
I drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on my thigh. My posture was relaxed.
Charles didn’t fidget or speak, but he was still aware of me. Every time I shifted just a bit, his eyes flickered my way before returning to the window.
He was watching everything. The way I checked the mirrors, the way I adjusted the temperature, the way I tapped the steering wheel once before turning.
I glanced over briefly. “You always this quiet?”
His gaze flicked toward me, then back to the windshield, hands twisting in his lap.
“I was taught to be.”
“Not a bad skill,” I said. “But you are welcome to talk, to ask questions.”
“Yes, Sir.” Charles licked his lips, but didn’t go on. His shoulders relaxed a little.
There were so many things I wanted to ask him, to know things that I probably shouldn’t want to know just yet. Which is why I didn’t. I kept my words locked up, letting them simmer to be spoken when I had a better chance of getting more than one or two word reply.
The rest of the car ride was quiet, except for the low music that sounded through the speakers.
At the store, Charles waited in the car while I rounded it, opening the door for him. Then, he stayed two steps behind me as the automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss, and the cool blast of air-conditioning hit both of us.
