Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Millan slept for two hours until he’s up and alert again.
He tries to go back to sleep but it’s no use. He keeps thinking of the Council’s decision. Turning it in his head and trying to make sense of his sentiments about it.
He is happy. Of course he is. He can stay in one place- no hiding, no fear of being attacked or chased away.
He’s never encountered a pack who was willing to tolerate him and that says a lot about Weston’s Pack.
He should just be happy of how lucky he is. But he can’t help the disappointment. He is disappointed that the pack does not want to accept him. And he is angry with himself for being disappointed about that.
He figures he’s just in adoration with the harmony he sees in this pack. With the beauty of Headquarters. With the kindness that seems to propel everybody’s actions here.
He figures that he’s also tired of running away, of pulling teeth just to survive another day. He figures that is why he is so upset that they’re not making him an official member of their pack.
But that’s a lie. Or rather that’s not the entire truth.
If he’s being honest with himself, which he rarely is, Weston is the main reason for his distress.
He likes Weston.
A lot, and dangerously so.
An Alpha, of all people.
He can’t stop replaying last night’s events in his head. Even when Weston was being insufferable, his omega wolf wants him.
Desires him. The Head Alpha of the Blyane Pack.
Images of his dark hair bouncing around as he easily picks up multiple books in his larger than normal hands make Millan shiver. He can’t help imagining those hands on him.
Even the way that the alpha had frantically cooked for him, mumbling nonsense out of irritation sends butterflies to his stomach.
How protected and safe Weston makes him feel.
He’s just never felt that way around an alpha before.
Even his own father. Especially his own father, actually.
He has to stop.
Weston would never want a rogue like him. He is the Alpha, the leader of the Blayne Pack.
Yes, he is kind to Millan, but he seems to be that way with everyone and Millan CAN NOT afford to fall for him.
It’ll only result in heartbreak.
Millan decides to get up, knowing that when he gets like this, trying to rest is pointless.
The darkness outside indicates it’s still the middle of the night.
Millan doesn’t have a plan when he takes his backpack and descends silently to the first floor of the main house. He wonders, exploring, careful not to wake anyone else up.
He doesn’t think when he stuffs his bag with non perishable food.
He doesn’t think when he quietly opens a medicinal cabinet in the bathroom and grabs some painkillers and bandages.
He’s on auto pilot as he just fills his bag with whatever he deems useful while exploring the main floor stealthily.
A familiar warm scent leads him to a very familiar door.
Weston’s study.
Where he refused to even meet Millan that first day, where he commanded Andy to send him away just a few days ago.
Where Millan thought he’d be sent away immediately.
It’s also where Weston spends most of his time and the smell is intoxicating.
Millan dares to open the door, slowly, cautiously. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he knows he’s playing with fire.
He knows his position here is wobbly at best and being discovered doing something so sneaky could mean getting kicked out of the first place that accepted his presence in years.
But that thought is very far in the back of his mind.
Curiosity is at the forefront. He’s never been good at impulse control.
The room reflects Weston’s entire demeanor.
It reflects how his scent feels to Millan.
It’s warm, inviting and a little chaotic.
There’s a foyer and books and haphazardly thrown papers on a sturdy looking desk. The furniture looks handmade, unique and tasteful.
Millan sits on the couch for a minute. Basking in the scent and admiring the seating comfort.
There’s a hoodie resting on the desk chair.
Millan is bold, and everybody’s asleep and he can smell Weston on it even from his position on the couch.
The temptation is too strong to resist.
He makes his way to the chair and grabs the hoodie. He indulges in the scent for a while before putting it in his bag, already full of essential items.
It’s not weird, he tells himself. He just likes the smell.
Retreating to his room, Millan finally lets himself analyze what he’s just done.
More than anything, he wants to believe that Weston and the Council wouldn’t come back on their decision, but it’s as if a part of him doesn’t really understand the decision in the first place.
It makes him skeptical, like something isn’t right. Like something was amiss.
Like something terrible will go off and blow up on his face.
But right now, the only reason he can come up with is charity.
Millan is a charity case. Only, charity can sometimes get old. And they’re bound to slowly realize all the ways Millan fucks up on a daily basis.
Just now, he was stealing from the only genuinely kind pack he has come across, he doesn’t answer well to alpha commands or authority in general, he is reckless and more often than not, he does not think before he acts, he gets into trouble constantly and gets others into trouble as well.
He momentarily thinks of Madelyn, how much of a good person the young beta girl is, the omega Amir too. If they let him befriend them, Millan will surely find a way to corrupt them. Just as he did with Aaron and Caleb.
Back then, his friends were constantly getting yelled at because of the shit he pulled or got them into. He doesn’t want to repeat the same thing here.
The problem is, he’s sure he will. It’s just him, it’s how he is. He can’t change that.
Once the Council realizes that, it’s only a matter of time before he gets thrown out like a used toy, like a defective, annoying, broken dog.
And that is why his bag is now full of stolen goods. That’s why he still needs to think of Plan B: crossing the ocean.
If it doesn’t work out here, it’s the only plan he has. He needs to keep working at it.
He’ll just have to be sneakier or Weston will certainly caught wind of it, and lose it.
He doesn’t think he needs much more than what he has stolen already for now, so he hides his bag in his closet before making his way downstairs and outside the house.
His senses are alert, as always, as he makes his way through the small streets. There’s barely enough light for him to see where he’s going.
Judging by the moon’s position in the sky, it must be close to two or three in the morning.
He did spot a hardware store, or something to that effect on his first day exploring and he wants to see if he can find his way to it again. It isn’t too hard and he’s not surprised when he finds the door is locked.
He decides to come back during the day, see if there are cameras or an alarm system. He’ll come better prepared during the night again and get what he needs for his prototype.
He’ll have to work on his plan at night since he doesn’t know if the Council still wants Jace to monitor his every move.
That could be a problem. Millan never gets much sleep anyway.
Unless he is scenting Weston apparently.