Bram's eyes snapped open, and he took a deep breath. The family was still on the sofa as far as he could see in the dark of the room. His heart was pounding in his ears and his body was humming.

"No," he whispered in the dark. "Don't do this," he pleaded with the Goddesses.

But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The hum in his body was so strong he could hear it under the pounding of his heart. Cursing in Gaelic, Bram shut his eyes tight to keep back tears. The pain in his heart was like a knife. He was nauseous. Then suddenly he took a deep breath and laughed softly. So cleansed, Bram composed himself and checked his watch.

There was still two hours until sunrise and Bram had no intention of going back to sleep. His headache was gone anyway. He had resolved to get up and check on the family when out of nowhere the omega's eyes opened.

Bram lowered his hand to his lap, watched, and waited.

The omega looked at Bram in the dark, no doubt he smelled him from across the room, even with the dust and dirt, a strange alpha full of power and hormones. But the omega didn't panic. As far as Bram could tell in the gloom, the omega's eyes flicked down to check his children, one, two, three, then flicked back up to Bram.

"Mind telling me what's going on and where we are?" was the first thing the omega said, clear and calm.

Struggling to keep his calm, Bram answered in broken French, "Two hour outside Paris, Sir. I'm terrible sorry for this."

"And what's going on?" the omega repeated.

"I dunno, Sir," Bram said. "I'ma just hired muscle. My bosses would have me killed for talkin', Sir. I don ask too many questions."

"Well, you keep lovely company."

"I do what I hafta, Sir." Bram muttered, looking the omega in the eye as best he could in the gloom. "And I make no apologies fer the life that I lead."

A strained silence fell over them for a few moments. Then the omega spoke again.

"What did your bosses tell you to do with us?" he asked.

Bram stared into the omega's eyes for a moment, then sighed. "I was told ta git ridda you, Sir. I dunno who you are though, nor why someone wants you and your childr'n dead."

"Are you going to kill us?"

"No, sir. I can't kill a mother 'nd 'is childr'n."

"I'm glad to hear that," the omega said. "What's your name?"

"Bram."

"I'm Bijou. On my lap is Maria, to my left is Theodore, and to my right is Benoit."

"I'm honored, Sir."

"Stop with the 'Sir' please. I just told you my name. Could you help me get home?"

"Wat if…" Bram didn't want to say it, but he had to, "yer family sent you to be killed?"

"Impossible." Bijou said simply. "Help me get home. Please. My mother will reward you."

"I don't need no rewards, Sir," Bram said. However, he did have to do something with the family, and fast. Someone was coming to build over what was supposed to be their grave, eventually. "But I'll take ya home, none-the-less."

"Thank you," Bijou said.

"I dun need thanks. But yer clothes. I need 'em."

"What for?"

"Tey stand out too much," Bram explained. "Imma go outside, and you strip down. Hand me ta clothes through ta door and I'll hawk 'em for some cash and buy someting fer you ta wear."

"I'll do that if you do something for me," Bijou said in English.

Bram's eyes widened a bit, despite his best efforts. While he was deciding how to respond to the switch in language, Bijou went on.

"Stop speaking French so badly, it hurts my ears. And it's clear you're faking it."

"It's clear I'm faking it?" Bram said in standard French. "How?"

"Believe me," Bijou said, switching back to French. "It's clear."

Bram felt his body humming again. "That may be," he said, "but it's best if I keep up appearances. As must we all, in the end."

"Fuck that," Bijou said.

Bram gasped and Bijou's mouth curled up into a little smile.

"Turn around," Bijou ordered. "I'm getting undressed. We can pawn the kids' clothes later. Mine will be more than enough."

"Oh… Yes, Sir." Bram muttered.

"I told you to stop calling me sir."