The duplex had gone quiet hours ago. Such kind of silence that pressed against the ears, thick and unnatural, as if the walls themselves were holding secrets they refused to release.

Beau sat at the edge of the bed they had given him, if it could even be called that. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, sheets untouched, pristine in a way that made his skin crawl.

However the only reason his fingers hadn’t hesitated dialing that number was because it belonged to his uncle, someone who had spent over twenty years catching criminals and taking down illegal operations.

A sharp breath left him as he dragged a hand down his face, eyes squeezing shut for a moment and the images came back instantly.

“Shit…” he whispered under his breath, voice cracking slightly despite himself. 

He knew this wasn’t something he could solve with impulse. Because there might be an entire network hiding behind polished smiles and locked doors.

Beau exhaled slowly, forcing his breathing to steady. ‘You did the right thing.’

Restless tapping of his foot finally stilled. Only for his hands to start fidgeting instead, thumb dragging over his knuckles, over and over, a dull burn building until the sharp sting finally pulled him back.

Beau hissed quietly under his breath, his hand jerking slightly as he looked down. The skin across his knuckles had turned an angry red, standing out starkly against the pale tone of his hand.

“…damn it,” he muttered, flexing his fingers once before forcing them still. Slowly, he exhaled, shaking his hand once as if to rid himself of the restless energy crawling under his skin. “Get a grip…” he murmured, voice low, almost scolding.

A sudden, involuntary movement made him whip his head toward the digital clock, its glowing numbers read 3 a.m. Color flooding back to his face as adrenaline sharpened every nerve. ‘Finally…’ His pulse quickened, each beat a drum of purpose. ‘Just ten more minutes until they arrive.’

Beau dragged a deep breath through his chest, letting it out slowly as he forced his racing thoughts into focus. The bed creaked faintly beneath him as he pushed himself upright, fingers gripping the thin mattress. For a moment, he allowed himself to glance around the room, the domain of the very criminals he would never have set foot in had he not known the full horror of their deeds. He stayed only for a single reason; the fragile soul trapped in this cruelty, whose suffering ran deep enough that Beau could feel it without words.

Bare feet touched the cold floor, toes curling instinctively against the chill. “Time for the next move,” he murmured to himself, almost reverently. 

Step by careful step, he moved toward the door. Every creak of the floorboard beneath him made his heart spike. Each breath measured, a silent rhythm of patience and tension. He could almost feel the cage Jonah was trapped in, hear the faint echo of helplessness that he couldn’t allow to persist. ‘Not another second wasted.’

Finally, the staircase loomed before him. The descent into the basement was like stepping into a heartbeat. Darkness swallowed him, thick and suffocating, the air carrying the faint metallic tang of the chains and the stale scent of the room.

Hands forward, feeling along the wall, fingertips grazing the cold, uneven plaster. After the endless search, his fingers brushed against something firm and flat. ‘Yes…’

With a flick, the light snapped on, spilling a harsh white across the basement. And there, motionless at first was the figure he had come for. A faint stir shifted across the floor as the light crept in.

The sight hit him like a gentle shock. Jonah was curled slightly on his side, legs drawn together, two hands tucked under his head as if the floor itself was a pillow. The gentle rise and fall of his chest spoke volume, he was waking, slowly, still clinging to a fragment of sleep. 

“Jonah…” The name left his lips like a breath, quiet and careful, as if he were afraid even the sound of it might break. 

His steps were slow, deliberate, meant to soothe, not startle. But softness was unfamiliar here.

Not when the name had been worn down by harsher voices, stripped of care, repeated without kindness. And fear… fear had long since settled into the boy’s bones, built from too many nights that began without warning.

Beau stopped a breath away from him.

Slowly Jonah stirred, his body shifting with a stiffness that didn’t belong to someone his age. He pushed himself upright. Skinny legs folded neatly, knees bent, feet tucked outward on either side as he sat.

Something cold slid down Beau’s spine as he took in the sight. The boy’s head remained slightly bowed, strands of hair falling into his eyes. Slender fingers rested loosely against his thighs, knuckles faintly bruised, skin marked with stories Beau didn’t need to hear to understand.

When the voice finally came, it wasn’t what Beau had imagined. It sounded as though it had gone unused for far too long, like it had forgotten how to exist properly.

“…what… do you want…?” Each word trembling at the edges, barely holding together.

Jonah swallowed, throat bobbing with visible effort before his gaze finally lifted. It met Beau’s with quiet hesitation but devoid of hope.  

“I can… give you head,” he added weakly, voice cracking slightly, the words coming out like something practiced, rehearsed too many times. “Or would you prefer I present myself?” He hesitated, breath shallow. “I’ll be good. Just… please don’t hit me.”

For a second, Beau didn’t understand the words. But when they finally sank in, it hit like something sharp driven straight through his ribs. His vision blurred, a sudden sting burning behind his eyes before he even realized what was happening.

Cherry lips parted, but nothing came out. Breath stuttering as if his body itself was rejecting what it had just heard. ‘That’s what they taught him to expect from everyone?’

“I’m not—” Beau tried, voice cracking midway. He dragged a hand over his face, fingers trembling as they pressed against his eyes, like he could physically hold the tears back.

“I’m not here for that.” he whispered, more to himself than anything. Knees met concrete with a harsh thud, but the impact barely registered nothing compared to the way his heart was breaking in real time.

Jonah blinked rapidly as if trying to make sense of what was going on. The pattern he had been forced to memorize was broken.

Suddenly, his hands were enveloped in firm warmth as Beau grabbed them, pressing his forehead against the backs of Jonah’s hands. Damp warmth seeped onto Jonah’s skin. A knot formed in his stomach as realization hit him. The one he had expected to hurt him was crying.

Fingers stiff beneath Beau’s hands, the sudden warmth strange and unfamiliar. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. “…I… I—” His voice faltered entirely. His mind scrambled, not understanding, not knowing how to respond. ‘Why is he… crying?’

But before anything further could escape him, Beau lifted his head slowly. Glassy eyes met Jonah’s, but now the softness was replaced by a searing, sharp edge. Rage so pure it almost vibrated through the basement air.

“How could anyone treat a human like that?” Beau breathed, voice low but deadly. “Every single one of those criminals will rot in hell!”

Tears clung stubbornly to his lashes, making the sharpness of his gaze almost unbearable. Beau’s hands still gripped Jonah’s, not letting go, grounding himself as he fought the sobs clawing at his throat. 

“I swear,” he murmured, almost a prayer, “I’ll make sure this… ends.”

Disbelief warring with the faint spark of hope that had been almost entirely snuffed out long ago. Almost instantly, Jonah’s mind screamed at him, cursing himself for being foolish, for daring to believe. ‘Don’t fall for his empty words.’

“…Why…” The word left him as a hushed whisper, barely audible over the pounding of his own heart.

A sudden surge of phenemoen erupted, slicing through the air like a blade. The room shuddered under it, a pulse of raw power that seemed to radiate from every inch of the Alpha holding him. It moved faster than he could track, a force that hummed with authority and raw intent.

In an instant, the cuffs biting into his ankles splintered into countless shards. The steel choker that had been a constant reminder of his imprisonment exploded into glittering fragments, scattering across the floor. Jonah’s chest heaved as the weight of every chain, every binding, every memory of control was torn from him in a single, shattering moment.

Lifting a hand slowly, Beau brushed it against his own cheek, swiping away the stubborn tears clinging to his lashes. “I’m sorry… but…” His words paused, almost suffocating under the raw tension coiled in his chest. “…there’s one more thing I need to do.”

A soft breath escaped through Jonah’s parted lips, but he didn’t question. The gratitude and the quiet trust that had taken root were stronger than any lingering fear. He simply nodded, silent, almost fragile.

Small bitter smile flickered across Beau’s face, trembling as it tugged at the edges of his lips. Then, slowly, deliberately, he released the Omega's hands and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Beau pressed his face into the tangled strands, nose brushing against the ruined, dry hair that had long been neglected, yanked, and uncherished. Each fiber carried the weight of abuse, and yet he didn’t care. He only held Jonah closer, as if he could absorb every broken fragment, every scar that the world had left behind. 

“Please… forgive me, if you can,” Beau whispered into Jonah’s ear, each syllable trembling with regret. “But… there’s no other way.”

Bitter taste of déjà vu rose sharply, and Jonah’s chest tightened. Those were the same words his best friend had whispered before handing him over to the monsters, the exact words that had set him on the path to this ruin. A bitter thought scraped across his mind. ‘I’m… exhausted from carrying the weight of everyone asking for forgiveness,’  

The thought was cut off abruptly as sharp teeth grazed the nape of his neck. A startled yelp escaped him, but the bite was firm with purpose, not cruelty. Beau’s phenomenon flaring around them like liquid fire, spreading in a wave that Jonah could feel sinking into his skin.

‘Is he… marking me?!’ Jonah’s eyes went wide, heart hammering with sudden realization.

Pain and disbelief mingled with a strange, grounding certainty, leaving him breathless as the sharp bite released, Beau pulling back just enough. The permanent mark now seared into Jonah’s pale nape, a brand of protection.

Warmth ebbed from the embrace, retreating only to return in another form.

Beau’s hands moved to the collar of his coat. Heavy fabric slid from his shoulders, the deep material catching the harsh basement light as it fell open, dark, expensive, threaded with intricate designs that glinted faintly, blue stones embedded along the seams catching like fragments of a distant sky.

Carefully, he draped it over Jonah’s smaller frame. The coat swallowed him whole. It fell past his ankles, wrapping him in warmth that didn’t belong to this place.

Long fingers moved with quiet precision, fastening each button one by one.  

When he spoke, his voice was softer than anything he had used before. “No one’s looking at you like that ever again.”

Graceful fingers paused at the last button, lingering as if reluctant to pull away. Dark eyes lifted, locking onto Jonah’s, sharp with quiet resolve. “You don’t have to… offer anything.”

Jonah’s fingers curled into the fabric of the coat, clutching it instinctively. He breathed in without thinking, the fresh citrus scent settling quietly around him. 

‘His scent is so…calming.’

A faint, uncertain thought followed. ‘He’s my mate… now… so this feeling… it should be okay… right?’

“I was sensing something was off…” a voice rang out, smooth, almost amused, slicing clean through the fragile, intoxicating calm of their newfound bond. “…but I didn’t expect it to be this romantic.”

Both of them flinched, hearts clenching. The voice was far too familiar. 

 

To be continued...