Conflicts and Confrontations

From the doorway, the sharp bite of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol hit Brandon's nose, triggering a flood of unwanted memories - sterile sheets, locked doors, the clinical efficiency of his 'special' heat room at Regent. But underneath that medical smell was something else, something that made his instincts prickle with unease.

Mike's Beta scent gave nothing away - they never did. At Regent, the Beta guards had blended into the background like furniture, their neutral presence a stark contrast to the vivid emotional landscape painted by Alpha and Omega pheromones.

Brandon forced his shoulders to relax, pushed down the urge to retreat. These days, he couldn't trust his own reactions - couldn't tell paranoia from protection, instinct from conditioning. He lingered in the doorway, one foot still in the hall, ready to move either direction.

"Pete said you were recovering. How you feeling?"

His voice came out steady, practiced. Perfect concerned Omega. Just another role to play, even if he wasn't sure anymore which responses were real and which were programmed.

Mike shifted against the pillows, wincing. "Head's killing me." He peeled the cloth from his forehead, his movements sluggish. He pressed his palm against his temple. "Everything's fuzzy."

"He said you have a fever." Brandon crossing to stand by the bed.

"Yeah. Sounds right. This pack treating you okay?" Mike's eyes narrowed. "No one's tried anything?"

Mike's question hung in the air while Brandon processed the stark differences. At Regent and… before, Alphas meant rigid rules, punishment, and pain. But here - despite the chase through the woods - the pack showed genuine care. No cruel games or power plays. No threats or manipulation. Even Zack's fierce protectiveness came from a place of connection rather than possession.

Brandon's hand went to check the scent patches on his neck. "They've been... different than I'm used to."

"Any word from Mrs. Sanders?" Brandon asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Mike's eyes darted to his charging phone on the nightstand beside him. "Nothing yet."

Brandon reached for the phone, but Mike's hand shot out, gripping his wrist. The strength in those fingers didn't match the weakness in the Beta's voice, the precision of the hold at odds with his fevered appearance.

"No calls. We wait for instru-" Mike caught himself, swallowing hard. "For Mrs. Sanders."

For a moment, Brandon's instincts flared at him to pull away, to run. But this was Mike. Mike, who'd been the perfect guard at Regent. Mike, who'd gotten him out when everything went to hell. If he couldn't trust Mike, who could he trust?

Besides, reading too much into things was just another broken piece of him, wasn't it? Like how he couldn't trust the way Zack's presence called to him, how that pull felt too much like the drug induced responses he'd been forced to endure. The Omega lowered his eyes to his lap as Mike released his grip.

Mike pulled the blanket higher, his movements exaggerated. "I'm sure I'll be on my feet soon."

Brandon's gaze lingered on the rough texture of Mike's knuckles, a stark contrast to the man's usual polished appearance. The sight stirred something within him, a silent echo of his own battered past. His mind whispered of escape routes and quick retreats, a survival instinct honed by years under Lex's thumb.

But there was more than fear simmering beneath his skin. Doubt gnawed at him. Mike had always been the stoic guardian, his motives as mysterious as his background. Now, confined to this bed, the Beta's facade of control seemed to crack, revealing glimpses of something Brandon wasn't sure he wanted to see.

He knew what it was like to wear a mask, to smile when inside you were screaming. In the silence of the room, he couldn't shake off the feeling that Mike was playing a part, a role written for him by someone else. Just like Brandon had been.

"You should rest," Brandon said, backing toward the door. "I'll check on you later."

Brandon backed toward the door, studying Mike's slumped form. The security guard had always been a shadow at Regent, posted in corners and doorways with watchful eyes. Even during meals, he'd kept his distance, scanning the room from the perimeter while other guards chatted with students. Now he looked small against the pillows, vulnerable - but something in the precise way his fingers curled against the sheets...

Brandon pushed the thought away. His instincts had been wrong before. Had to be wrong now. Because if he couldn't trust Mike, couldn't trust this pack, couldn't trust the way Zack's presence drew him like gravity... then what could he trust?

Mike had fallen asleep, beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he slumped into fitful silence.

He slipped out, careful not to let the door click too loudly behind him. Zack's pull grew stronger as he moved toward the stairs, and Brandon found himself wondering if real attraction was supposed to feel this overwhelming, or if he'd just forgotten what genuine responses felt like.

The scent of coffee and toast wafted up from the kitchen, a comforting aroma that stirred his hunger. But it was the scent beneath that - the rich, earthy undertone that was uniquely Zack - that made his pulse quicken and his breath hitch. It was like a melody he'd only just remembered the words to, a song that resonated in the deepest parts of him.

"Where do you think you're going?" Alex emerged from the shadowed end of the hallway, his posture rigid with hostility. His blonde hair seemed to glow like spun gold in the morning light, a stark contrast to the dark suspicion brewing in his eyes. His scent was sharp with territorial aggression - the kind of manufactured dominance Brandon had seen a thousand times at the Collar. Amateur hour.

Brandon took a breath to stead himself. He had hoped to avoid this confrontation, but it seemed fate had other plans.

"I was just checking on Mike," Brandon explained, his voice steady despite the unease twisting in his gut.

Alex scoffed, stepping closer with a predator's grace. "You think I'm stupid? I know your type." His voice was low, dangerous.

Brandon held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play innocent with me," Alex hissed, jabbing a finger toward Brandon's chest. "I've seen how you look at Zack. How you've bewitched him with your freaky pheromones. You think you can just waltz in here and turn his head with your sweet looks and Omega tricks?"

Alex's eyes narrowed, a venomous glint that Brandon had seen before in those who had something to prove. "You might have Zack fooled, but I see right through you," Alex spat, his voice barely above a whisper.

Brandon's heart thrummed in his chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed the turbulence of his thoughts. Alex's animosity was a familiar storm, one he had weathered many times in the past, but there was an edge to it that set him on edge. This was more than rivalry; it was a desperate territorial claim.

"I'm not here to cause trouble," Brandon said, his words measured and calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil within.

Alex laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that bounced off the hallway walls. "Oh, you don't have to do a thing. Trouble follows you like a shadow, Omega."

Brandon's instincts screamed at him to retreat, to escape the escalating tension. But he stood his ground, his gaze locked with Alex's. He wouldn't be chased away, not when Zack's steadfast presence promised safety, protection.

"Zack and I…" Brandon began, then stopped. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't planned on discussing anything with Alex.

"Oh, don't play the coy lost little Omega," Alex interrupted, a sneer twisting his mouth. "Just back off. He’s mine."

"He's not…" Brandon started to protest, but Alex cut him off again.

"HE'S MINE," Alex reiterated, his voice taking on a steelier edge this time. "We've known each other since we were kids. We've shared my heat. We have a past that's intertwined. You, Omega, are not part of the pack, and you never will be, no matter how hard you try."

Alex leaned in uncomfortably close, his hot breath brushing against Brandon's cheek. His voice dropped to an insidious whisper, each word laden with contempt. "There’s something really wrong with you, Brandon." Alex sniffed the air around Brandon. "A certain phoniness that clings to you like a second skin. Zack and the others will see it soon enough." His lips twisted into a cruel smile, "You might as well spare yourself the humiliation, leave, and put an end to your pathetic pining for him."

A blush of embarrassment flushed across Brandon’s smooth, creamy cheeks, a stark contrast to his usual pale complexion. He could feel the weight of Alex's gaze, scrutinizing his every move, studying his every reaction.

"Even with all the layers of suppressant patches you wear," Alex sneered, his voice dripping with mockery, "I can still smell the yearning that oozes from you. The distinct scent of Omega desire permeates the air whenever he's near." He laughed, a cruel, chilling sound. "It’s pathetic, truly. You're making a complete fool of yourself. If you indeed attend a school as elite as Regent Omega Academy, then you are failing in a spectacularly fashion."

Brandon's eyes flickered to the floor, his fists clenching. Alex's words stung, hitting a nerve he hadn't realized was so raw. The accusation of faking it felt particularly cruel even if it was true.

“Just so you know,” Brandon said, his voice dropping to that silky-dangerous tone he'd learned at the club, the one that made clients lean in closer even as their instincts screamed danger. He lifted his chin, meeting Alex’s mocking stare head-on. “I could take Zack like that.” He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp in the quiet hallway, and Alex flinched - a tiny tell that had Brandon's predator instincts stirring. “He’d mark me and fill me with his knot of fast if I so much as hinted the desire.”

A flicker of something akin to surprise crossed Alex’s face, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. Brandon pressed his advantage, his voice laced with a newfound confidence. “Besides, I’m not threatened by you. He obviously doesn’t want you – even after sharing a heat with you, you say? You must really be a pathetic in the sack."

Alex’s face contorted in a mixture of disbelief and fury. He sputtered, searching for a retort, but Brandon cut him off, his voice dripping with icy disdain.

“You think you know something about me? About what I've been through?" Brandon's eyes darkened, the carefully constructed facade of polite indifference crumbling to reveal a glimpse of the hardened survivor beneath. 

Brandon took a step closer to Alex, his heart thundering but his voice steady. 

"You want to play at dominance, Alex? Trust me, you're out of your depth." Brandon's voice dropped to a low growl, memories of chains and darkness lending steel to his words. "You know nothing about true dominance or submission. Nothing about what it means to be truly powerless. So don't come at me with your pathetic attempts at intimidation."

He leaned closer, his scent shifting to something sharp and bitter that made Alex's nostrils flare in alarm. "You really don't want to start this with me. Because I guarantee you won't like how it ends"

The color drained from Alex's face as Brandon's words hit their mark. For a moment, the facade of the aggressive rival cracked, revealing the insecurity beneath. He stumbled back, his eyes wide, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Then, he turned and fled, practically sprinting down the stairs.

Brandon smiled despite himself, leaning against the hallway wall as the sound of Alex's footsteps faded down the stairs. He shouldn't have scared the poor Omega like that - it went against everything he believed in. The last thing he wanted was to become like those who'd hurt him.

His thoughts drifted to Daphne at Regent, with her perfectly styled white hair and those distinctive purple tips. She'd always looked down her nose at him during meals, making snide comments about his table manners or the way he held himself. "A true Omega knows their place," she'd say with that practiced smile, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Some of us were simply born for better things."

Brandon's fingers traced absently over the sent patch again. He'd wanted so many times to tell her exactly what he thought of her superiority complex, to explain that while she was practicing proper tea service, he'd been learning lessons no Omega should ever have to learn. That her petty attempts at dominance were nothing compared to what he'd survived.

But he'd kept quiet, head down, trying his best to blend in. Because he was broken - Lex had made sure of that - and drawing attention only led to more pain. Even now, having just stood up to Alex, his hands trembled slightly. The old fears whispered that he'd gone too far, that punishment would surely follow.

Yet underneath the anxiety, a small spark of pride flickered. He'd defended himself without violence, - maybe he wasn't as broken as he thought. If Alex wanted to play games, fine. But Brandon wouldn't cower, He wouldn't be scared - not anymore.