“Why so afraid? It’s your lucky day,” 665 sneered, his lips twisting into an ugly, dirty smile. “I’ll deliver you to Grasson myself. He’s waiting.”
“No,” Ehlian managed, his voice trembling.
“Or better yet…” 665’s eyes lit up with something vile and rotten. “Maybe I’ll have a little fun myself first.”
“I—I’m Hayce’s omega,” Ehlian stammered desperately, the words escaping before he could second-guess them.
“But are you really, pretty boy?” 665 taunted, his hands gesturing theatrically. “Where is he? Hmm? Nowhere to be found, not even watching out for his precious little omega.”
The fight raged on outside. The guards were still struggling to regain control over the violent criminals. For all Ehlian knew, Hayce could be lying unconscious—or worse, in his own pool of blood—trampled in the middle of it all.
“He will—” Ehlian scrambled for anything threatening that might scare the alpha away. “He’ll kill you for this.”
“Oh, you naive little thing.” 665 let out a deep, guttural laugh. “You think you matter? He’ll toss you aside sooner than you think, just like all the rest. There’s always fresh meat coming in.”
Ehlian’s stomach twisted into knots as the alpha’s eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger. “Speaking of meat…” 665 dragged his tongue across his lips. “I’m feeling ravenous.”
Cold fear filled Ehlian, and his hands fumbled blindly for somethingto defend himself with. His fingers wrapped around the first thing they found. A book.
Shit.
“Terrifying,” the alpha mocked, his grin widening as he brandished a makeshift knife cobbled together from jagged scraps of metal and broken furniture. “Now, be a good boy and stay still, or I—”
The alpha froze mid-sentence, mouth open, tongue poised to shape his next words. But no sound came. His entire body stiffened unnaturally, like a grotesque statue—alive but utterly lifeless. And his eyes… for the first time, Ehlian caught a glimpse of something unexpected in them: pure, unfiltered fear.
Without warning, 665 collapsed to his knees, his expression twisting into a mixture of confusion and terror. His hands trembled as they curled around the hilt of his makeshift knife. Slowly, almost mechanically, he positioned the blade over his groin, angling it with devastating precision.
Behind the alpha stood Hayce, his power crackled and surged through the air, heavy and oppressive, laced with a dark edge that made Ehlian’s instincts scream to submit or run.
Hayce barely spared the frozen, kneeling alpha a glance as he passed by. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Ehlian’s stomach fluttered, a rush of something light and electric spreading through him as Hayce stepped closer, the darkness of his uniform a sharp contrast to the dull grey of the inmate’s clothes.
Without thinking, Ehlian reached out, gripping the dark fabric tightly. His legs trembled beneath him, drained of strength as the adrenaline faded.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Hayce murmured, his voice unexpectedly gentle. His strong arm slid beneath Ehlian’s knees, lifting him as though he weighed nothing. Ehlian instinctively looped his arms around Hayce’s neck, clinging to him as his head lolled against the firm shoulder.
Only moments after they left the cell, 665’s scream pierced through the roar of the ongoing prison fight.
It seemed ‘later’ had come much sooner than expected.
On either side of them, battling inmates froze mid-swing as Hayce passed by, the sheer force of his power paralysing them.The chaos resumed only when Hayce began climbing the stairs to the top floor.
Ehlian exhaled shakily when they reached the safety of their spacious cell. Hayce didn’t say a word as he carried him in and settled him into the familiar comfort of the armchair.
A moment later, Hayce pressed a glass into his hand. Ehlian took a drink—one gulp, then another—the alcohol burning its way down his throat.
“I’m fine,” Ehlian muttered stubbornly, putting the glass aside. “Don’t say a word.”
If Hayce had any intention of responding, he showed no sign of it.
Ehlian kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed, yanking the blanket tightly around himself. The cell wasn’t cold, yet he was trembling. He didn’t belong here. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this violent world.
The cake Willian had sent rested in its small box. It was already starting to dry and crumble, but Ehlian was rationing it. One small piece each day, a fragile taste of care, friendship, and home. He blinked hard as his throat tightened, fighting against the tears that stung his eyes, desperate to escape.
A loud clatter echoed through the prison. He jolted, heart racing. Something—a chair? A table?—must’ve been thrown. Instinctively, he pulled the blanket tighter around himself, as if it might protect him.
The bed dipped behind him, and he froze, his breath catching. A tense silence filled the air until a warm hand rested on his arm. Suddenly, calmness surged through the pack bond, gentle and serene, washing over his frayed nerves like a soothing balm. The intensity of it was breathtaking.
