Chapter 64: Chapter 64

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Weston’s worry is so strong it bleeds into Millan's confidence, tainting it slightly. Millan takes a deep breath and forces his self-assurance to take over in their bond.

It’s been a week since he’s marked Weston and his understanding and control over their soul bond has bettered with each day. He’s now almost as good as Weston when it comes to using their link to soothe his soulmate’s stress.

“Yes. I need to.” Millan answers although some of Weston’s wariness has been alleviated without the need for words.

“I don’t like this.” Weston whispers in a sigh, knowing there’s no changing Millan's mind anyway. “Be careful, Mill. I’ll be right here if you need me.” He eventually says, bending down to kiss his omega, hopefully communicating his encouragement and his support with the simple gesture.

“I love you.” Millan says when they pull apart.

“I love you more.” Weston responds, stepping away and letting Millan enter the parlor.

They’d moved Travis in a high security prison near the South Border, some three-hour werewolf-run from Headquarters.

Millan had been grateful for the run, providing him with ample time to ponder on what he wanted to say to his father.

While running, he came to two realizations.

One; he doesn’t have much to say, but it still feels like the most important words he will ever express. Two; he doesn’t care to hear his father’s response at all. He doesn’t care for his side of the story or his opinion.

All he wants is a chance to get some things off his chest.

How Travis receives them isn’t any of Millan's concerns.

That realization brought a lightness to his steps he hadn’t felt for years as he ran next to Weston’s imposing black wolf, nerves leaving his body in favor of a strong resolve and acceptance.

After today, he’d be free. He wouldn’t feel like a dark cloud is constantly hanging over his happiness any longer.

To Weston’s request, the parlor is devoid of anyone else but Travis and two bulky guards standing behind him- Millan had tried to negotiate for no guards and Weston had insisted on four of them.

They’d compromised to two.

As he observes his father sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair, chained by the wrists to the table in front of him, he is surprised at how non-intimidating the man has become.

The last time he saw the alpha, he’d almost killed him. Yet, there’s no fear in his veins as he approaches the table. He ignores the other chair, having no desire to stay any longer than necessary.

“You’re much smaller than I remember.” Millan states, earning himself a glare.

A glare that, when he was younger, would make him cower away, would make him expect a slap or a beating. Feeling none of the apprehension his younger self would have felt, Millan smiles.

“I’ve made you out to be this bigger than nature Alpha in my head, but really… I’ve never realized how small you are.” He reiterates just to see the glare in Travis’s eyes intensify.

“Look, freak, if you’re here to get a rise out of me, you’re wasting your time. If your Alpha is too much of a coward to finish the job and kill me, it’s his fucking problem. But at least spare me the tales of your delusions. They don’t interest me in the slightest. You’re a f-”

“Shut up.” The rise in Millan's voice stuns his father just as much as it stuns Millan.

But what surprised them the most was the hint of a command in it. Not as strong as an Alpha Command, but still quite intimidating in its own way. The omega doesn’t lose time worrying about it, content to see Travis’s lips shutting tight.

“I’m going to say what I need to say and you’re going to listen for once in your deplorable life.”

There’s a heavy pause of silent tension. Travis’s jaw twitches but Millan is happy to see that he has his father’s attention.

“Do you know what the definition of pathetic is?” Millan asks after gaining his composure back.

Travis scowls, remaining silent.

“Miserably inadequate.” Millan answers his own question, crossing his arms.

“I can’t think of a better way to describe you. As an Alpha, as a man and most of all, as a father. You’re a pathetic excuse for all of those things. You abused your power all because you were threatened by a child, you imposed a secondary gender on me when I was just a baby, you forced my own biological mother to ignore the existence of her son, you excused and encouraged my rapist, you banished me hoping I would die and when that didn’t work, you tried to kill me yourself. You don’t deserve death, that would be too merciful.”

“You little- “

“I said, shut up!” Millan slams his hands on the table in front of his father, his voice’s command more forceful this time, reverberations vibrating in his chest.

It’s effective enough, allowing Millan to continue uninterrupted.

“You try to insult me by calling me a freak and it used to hurt me, I used to believe it, but you know what? Being here, in a decent pack, amongst decent werewolves, I’ve come to understand that you’re an abomination to what it means to be a werewolf. You’re a coward feeding off the misery of others. That’s not natural. What should be natural is wanting to live by each other’s happiness, not by each other’s misery. You’re an unnatural, pathetic, tiny, little excuse for a werewolf and I’m just sorry I ever spent time thinking or worrying about what you think of me. But mark my words; as soon as that door closes behind me, I won’t waste another moment thinking about you.”

*****

The run back to Headquarters is exhilarating.

Millan feels freer than ever, owning each step, as if he could do anything, as if he knows he has people that love him for who he is, as if he doesn’t have to force himself into a box where he simply doesn’t fit, as if he can challenge his Alpha in a race without the pressure of conforming to omega-like behavior.

With each step, a weight lifts, leaving him breathless and impatient.

Impatient to see where this new-found freedom will take him.

*****

“You’re leaving?” Millan asks, leaning on the door frame.

Passing the corridor, he’d seen Stella folding clothes and packing them in a worn-out rucksack.

Uneasiness twists his gut as he looks at her packing calmly. Resolutely.

“Yes. I think I did what I had to do.” Stella continues packing, not meeting Millan's eyes. “I’m happy to see my children are taken care of and happy. That’s really all I dared to hope for when I came here in the first place.”

Millan enters the room and takes the shirt Stella was folding in his hands.

“I’d like for you to stay.” He says, surprised to hear himself say that.

But now that he thinks about it, he does want to get to know his real mother and the last thing he wants is for her to go back to the Caelan Pack. His uncle surely would be the one in charge now that Travis isn’t there anymore and the situation is probably just as horrible as it was. If not worse.

“You would?” Stella asks, hopeful.

Millan nods with a reassuring smile.

“I can talk to Weston about it. And I’d really like to get to know you better. If you’d like?”

Stella smiles, obviously willing tears away. But then her smile fades and she sighs.

“Maddie…”

“I’ll talk to her too. She’s hotheaded, but I believe she’ll warm up to you if you give her some time.”

Seeing the doubt in her eyes, Millan pulls her in a hug. She’s stiff at first, but she sinks into it quickly, pulling her son closer.

“I never forgot that day with Uriel when I was picking up flowers.” He murmurs in her shoulder, and she squeezes him tighter.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

*****

Weston wakes to a vibration against his chest and an intoxicating scent.

He hums in contentment and slowly opens his eyes to discover his omega draped over him, purring. Weston smiles lazily, happy to let Millan rest on him for as long as he wants.

He briefly looks at the clock on the bedside table noticing it’s still early. His eyes trail back to Millan until his brain catches up and he looks at the clock again.

The 21st of March.

Weston used to apprehend that day, to fear it.

Since his parent’s death, his friends and the Council have come to accept this day as Weston’s day off. He would spend it at his parents’ grave, avoiding talking to anyone.

He would hate how that day had the power of turning him into the opposite of who he really is; an antisocial, depressed, unapproachable Head Alpha.

But this year…

He hadn’t even realized it was today.

Waking up to a purring omega in his arms, it proved difficult to feel gloomy or sad. Searching their bond, Weston lets Millan's contentment wash over him.

This year would be different.

When Millan stirs awake, the purring gradually stops and Weston delights in the flush of embarrassment appearing on Millan's cheeks. He’d never tire of Millan's timidness for his omega behaviors.

“Today’s the 21st.” Millan sighs, face burying in Weston’s neck.

Weston nods, knowing the date’s significance for Millan.

“Let’s just cuddle in bed all day.” Millan says, curling closer to his alpha’s warmth.

“Sounds like a plan.” Weston smiles and lets Millan's smell lull him back to sleep.

Unfortunately, after an hour or so of lazy cuddles, bringing him in and out of sleep, nature calls.

Weston reluctantly gets up and untangles himself from an adorably grumpy omega to get to the bathroom. After washing up, he stops in the doorway of the bathroom to observe his omega huddled in the nest of his creation, enjoying the butterflies erupting in his stomach from the sight.

He takes in the bedroom which looks a lot better now that they replaced the bed and reorganized the desk.

Weston’s eyes stop at the desk when something catches his attention. He approaches it and his heart expands so much he thinks it might beat out of his chest.

There, displayed on the wooden surface.

Millan's map.

Red Xs and some green ones are still there, like Weston remembers from his first meeting with Millan. However, right next to the Blayne Territory and the word ‘Ridiculous’, is a circle with one word in it.

One word that takes Weston’s breath away and brings tears to his eyes, written in bold, capital letters…

‘HOME.’