Cait stared at him, her mercury eyes wide, searching his face as if trying to decipher a complex puzzle.
Her brow furrowed slightly, not in confusion, but in dawning realization.
“Is that…” she whispered, her voice raspy but clear, “…why can I feel your concern? Your… stress?” She lifted a trembling hand, pressing it lightly against her own temple.
“It’s like… whispers. Flickers. Inside my head.”
“What?” Albert inhaled sharply, his silver-gray eyes snapping from Owen to Cait in stunned disbelief.
“You can feel ‘his’ feelings?” he breathed, his voice thick with incredulity.
He moved closer, embracing her, his jacket rustling softly.
“Yes?” Cait nodded slowly, her gaze still locked on Owen.
“It started… faintly… after I woke up.”
“Are you sure? You could just be overwhelmed.” Albert panicked.
The connect was as deep as Owen was saying.
Owen did not mention that he feel the overwhelming grief she was hiding.
It was like a hook in his brain.
It was aggravating because he felt like he wanted to go out and flatten those who had hurt her.
He wanted to strike Albert now.
But he did not know Cait well enough to get that intense.
He had to be as objective as possible or he could lose himself in such intense emotion.
Kieran thankfully stepped forward smoothly, placing a calming hand on his father’s tense forearm.
“Father, back off,” he chided gently, his green eyes sharp but patient, “Don’t overwhelm her. Manifesting weak telepathy after one intense encounter? Could be entirely plausible. There are others with telepathic abilities.”
Owen shook his head to warn him.
“Let’s wait until we can confirm things for sure.”
Kieran caught the look of warning from Owen, he would stay away from mentioning his family.
He knew these sort of abilities brought up unpleasant memories of that ghost of a man.
“It might even be just isolated to the mark. We don’t want things getting out of this room that can’t be pulled back. We mention nothing of this to the ABO or any doctor, until we are sure. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Owen met Albert’s gaze steadily, then turned back to Cait, his expression softening into something unexpectedly tender.
“I prefer to believe it’s from the imprint anyways.
It’s special.” he murmured, his voice low and resonant, “We are two beings fundamentally made for each other.
Two halves of one whole.”
Cait’s cheeks flushed as her eyes widened briefly, she squealed internally, ‘What, does he actually have feelings for me after that one time?’ she thought as her ears reddened.
Albert stiffened as the bashful look crossed his daughter’s delicate facade, his paternal protectiveness flaring.
“Do not demean her by reducing her to merely ‘half’ of some bond!” he snapped, his aristocratic composure cracking under the surge of emotion.
“She is Cait Rose! Whole unto herself! That mark is a mark of subservience if anything.”
“Dad, stop it.” Kieran sighed, a sound of profound exasperation.
He moved deliberately between his father and Owen, positioning himself protectively near Cait’s shoulder Cait’s brows furrowed in distress.
Albert shook, “He is putting thoughts of romance in her head” he said.
“Enough. So what if he does? Now is not the time to have a pissing contest.” Kieran stated firmly, his voice cutting through the rising tension.
Kieran looked directly at Albert, then Owen.
“This is already too much. She has been awake, lucid, for mere hours. Her physiology is critically weakened. The antidote purge is taxing her system severely – it’s treatment, not a panacea. Can you realize that?”
Kieran gestured towards Cait, who was visibly wilting against the pillows, her eyelids fluttering heavily, the pallor of her skin deepening.
“She needs rest. She needs that protein drink Dr. Jameson insisted on her drinking a half an hour ago. She does not need your squabbling.”
“Fine, agreed. Let’s not discuss it for now.” Albert rubbed his temples.
“Good, good.” Kieran’s gaze softened as he looked down at his sister.
“I just need you to do two things. Focus on relaxing, and sleeping. The treatment is very exhausting, we’ll have plenty of time to discuss everything else..”
“Thank you, big brother.” Cait said as she looked up at Kieran, her mercury eyes clouded with exhaustion but holding a flicker of profound gratitude.
This man, her brother, barely known, had shielded her fiercely since the moment he’d found her collapsing in that elevator.
He saw her fragility, her overload, and acted.
He was her anchor in this storm of revelations and overwhelming Omega and Alpha intensity.
Kieran’s eyes almost flooded when she called him ‘Big Brother.’ He used to be the youngest in the family, an overwhelming warmness filled his chest.
Maybe she’d change things in her family.
Maybe Michael would snap out of it, his brothers might start actually coming and talking again.
When Yvette stabbed his father in the chest, she broke their family.
It might have even started with her first smile.
Cait was a victim too.
He hoped everyone would see that too.
“I will remember not to crush you with my mind if I get cool super powers.” she teased.
A weak laugh escaped her lips as she leaned back, her energy utterly spent.
The protein shake sat untouched on the bedside tray, a stark reminder of the battle her body was still fighting.
“Thank you, my psychic sister.” Kieran teased and reached for the large cup, his movements efficient and gentle.
“Small sips,” he instructed softly, holding the straw to her lips.
“Then sleep.”
The revelations of a hidden world of abilities, her new family had drained her remaining strength.
She weakly suckled awkwardly as her mind spun about what Owen had said about the mark she had left.
It was almost romantic.
‘I have to be responsible for this, he is dependent on me, and saved my life’.
Cait’s thoughts spun hazily.
Her ethical world view would not condemn another person to the hell of rut collapse.
She had felt it and the relief from escaping it.
It was not Owen’s fault that nature was cruel.
From their brief interactions, he seemed like a quiet but nice guy.
Their time together came back to her in passionate fragments, her cheeks flushing.
The protein shake was the sweetest and most delicious thing she had ever tasted.
It was not just chalky and malty like the stuff they drank below.
It tasted real, like that apple juice had.
It had fruit of some type.
She wondered what it must be or grow.
The cup was emptied quickly.
Cait stared at the huge cup.
It was the most that she thought she had ever eaten in her memory.
“Good work, sis. I will buy you something pretty, for finishing that whole thing.” Kieran said as he sat the cup down.
He plucked some tissues from the dispenser and wiped the berry residue from the corner of her left lip.
Albert looked at his son, then back down at Cait.
Her eyes drooped, her thick lashes like fluttering moths wings.
He moved her oxygen mask back over her nose and mouth.
Her hand relaxed slightly in Albert’s grasp, her gaze drifting towards the ceiling.
The questions swirled, but her body demanded surrender.
“Sleep, I will be in the building when you wake up.” Albert said as he watched her eyes close.
Kieran threw the empty cup in the garbage.
The journey, Kieran knew, had only just begun.
The path to trust, to understanding her own suppressed nature, and navigating the cluster fuck around her.
Especially the legacy left for her.
“Out, let her sleep. There is plenty of time.” Kieran said, just above a whisper.
Owen looked at his friend and employee and made his way to the door.
“Cait, I will be here for a while longer, but then I will leave. Get a lot of sleep and eat as much as you can.” Owen said, his brow crinkling in concern.
Cait felt a warmth among her confused feelings.She awkwardly nodded.
She had no idea what to say, nor the strength to say it.
Albert stepped back from Cait’s room, the door hissing shut behind him.
He leaned heavily against the cool metal wall of the corridor, raking both hands down his face.
The raw vulnerability he’d shown Cait vanished, replaced by a hollow exhaustion.
Owen watched Cait’s eyelids flutter closed, her breathing deepening almost immediately.
The tension radiating from Albert beside him was palpable, a storm barely contained.
With a curt nod towards Kieran, Owen turned and strode purposefully from the room, his polished Oxfords clicking sharply against the sterile corridor tiles.
Albert lingered for a heartbeat longer, his gaze fixed on Cait’s sleeping form – so small, so vulnerable, yet possessing a terrifying power she didn’t yet comprehend.
He gently withdrew his hand, the ghost of her touch lingering, and followed Owen out, Kieran closing the door with meticulous quiet behind them.
The corridor felt colder away from Cait’s presence.
Owen stopped a few paces from the door, turning to face Albert.
The Alpha CEO’s usual icy composure was fractured; worry etched lines around his eyes, and his scent – usually crisp bergamot and ozone – carried an undercurrent of raw stress.
“I will try to watch my emotions,” Owen stated, his voice low and strained, “so your daughter’s fragile state is not exacerbated.” He met Albert’s stormy gaze directly.
“Can we, for her sake, talk this over more amicably, Lord Rose?”
Albert gritted his teeth, the sound audible.
His wings rustled restlessly against his jacket.
He’d only just gotten his daughter back – a miracle he still couldn’t fully grasp – and already unwanted powerful Alphas circled: Owen bound irrevocably, Remy Dubois, arriving with his potent pheromones and healing gifts, would become obsessed and reliant on her in exchange.
Michael and Kieran would no longer be bound and could barter alliances with other Noble houses or the Coalition.
That’s if Kieran was coming home in the truest sense.
He had abandoned his title completely.
But being twenty third in line for the seat was not much of a draw.
If only he could find someone like Remy for them both.
More talent for the family.
The primal urge to lock Cait away, to shield her for a year, maybe two, surged within him.
Time to heal, time to learn the intricate ways of an Omegan Rose heir, time to become the princess she was born to be, safe from the overwhelming pressures and potential hurts.
He envisioned tutors, etiquette lessons, quiet gardens, pretty dresses…not the volatile dance of bonds and burgeoning powers.
Her next route was a terrifying unknown – delayed by the poison?
Destabilized by her collapse?
She would need him.
Would Owen’s claim pull her into another vortex of Beta monogamy, or would she leave like Kieran?
The fear of losing her again, this time to forces he couldn’t control, was paralyzing.
“Father.” Kieran’s voice cut through Albert’s spiraling thoughts, calm yet firm.
He stepped closer, his green eyes holding Albert’s with unwavering intensity.
“Do not think of repeating the same history that you did with me.”
The words struck Albert like a physical blow.
His attempt to control Kieran’s path, to bind him solely to the Rose legacy, had driven a wedge between them.
Kieran continued, his gaze flicking briefly to Owen.
“If Owen had not spoken up for me, if I had not left with him after he made you relent, Cait would be dead in ashes in a month or two’s time. Whoever is behind this would have succeeded. He would not have been stationed here; we are here because it was where I wanted to stay. Nobody would have scented her in that office, or in the places the Beta live or travel. She would have been found in that elevator and sent to a Traverse Hospital, where they would not know how to deal with this.”
Kieran paused, letting the chilling truth sink in.
“I found ‘the silver rose’. Although I did not know it was Cait immediately, Owen was still worthy of claiming her hand. I asked him to, as a favor. He is a top-ranked Alpha, Father. His abilities rival Remy Dubois’s and place him within the global elite.” Kieran’s voice softened slightly, but his conviction remained ironclad.
“And his abilities have only improved since bonding with her. There is nothing wrong with her nourishing his talent. It strengthens them both.”
Albert stared at his son, the raw protectiveness warring with the cold logic Kieran wielded like a scalpel.
He saw the truth in it.
Owen and his swift action had saved Cait.
His strength was formidable, and the bond was undeniable.
His son was right, Owen Thorne was a gifted pain in the ass.
Albert’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as he looked back towards Cait’s closed door.
The image of her exhausted, bewildered face haunted him.
‘Whatever she wants.’ The thought was a surrender, bitter but necessary.
“Fine,” Albert rasped, the word rough and heavy.
He met Owen’s watchful gaze, his silver-gray eyes shadowed with reluctant acceptance.
“Whatever she wants. Okay.” He ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking every one of his years.
“Now, she sleeps.” Albert gestured vaguely down the corridor, his voice thick with exhaustion, “Let’s get a drink. That was…” He trailed off, unable to articulate the emotional maelstrom.
“…and there is still much to discuss.”
Owen gave a curt nod, the tension in his own frame easing fractionally.
He fell into step beside Albert as Kieran led the way towards the private lounge reserved for the Rose family within the ABO medical wing.
Owen’s scent, previously sharp with stress, began to mellow back towards its usual crisp, controlled notes.
Kieran moved with quiet efficiency, his fox-like features composed, though a flicker of relief softened his eyes.
Kieran rolled his eyes when his father took out the familiar brand of whiskey.
He must have packed his brief case full of it.
He wished Michael was here.
“Father,” Kieran began, his voice low and precise, cutting through the lingering tension.
“You called me Dad before, just like when you were little.” Albert said as he poured three glasses.
Kieran shuddered inwardly and ignored it.
“You should clean up her old life. Benjamin Agneau remains unaccounted for. Cait’s apartment – it’s been untouched since she’s been here. There might be traces, records, evidence… anything pointing to where he is.” He paused, meeting Albert Rose’s unnerving silver gaze.
“Or confirmation of his identity.”
“She called him ‘Caleb’. I know that for sure.” Albert said as he leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
The firelight caught the sharp planes of his face, deepening the shadows.
“Where did she live, how did she live…?” The question was clipped, demanding.
“What have you found?”
Kieran retrieved a sleek datapad from his inner pocket, fingers tapping swiftly.
“She spent most of her life moving around, ” he stated, his tone devoid of inflection, letting the harsh reality speak for itself.
“Various settlements. Deep Water, Pacifica, Alta, Cypress, Clearwater, The Ring, The Shuffles… you name it, she bounced between them. Months here, the longest stretch was maybe six years in Deep Water.” He glanced up.
“She finished Adolescent Education in Wave Break. Top percentile. Completed the Adults Accelerated mathematics program concurrently. Excellence achieved on scraps.” Kieran paused, letting the image form: a brilliant mind honed in transient hardship.
“After her mother’s passing, West abandoned her completely at thirteen. Sent sporadic currency chips for the first year, then finally set up a direct deposit account. The amount was… paltry. Barely subsistence.” Kieran’s gaze flickered with cold anger.
Albert’s hands shook, his face paling white.
His eyes held his son.
“Gods, how could someone starve a child?” he whimpered to himself.
Kieran frowned and continued, ignoring his father, “It explains her current stature. Her dental records show years of neglect.” He met his father’s eyes again.
“She moved to the Burrows three months ago. Likely seeking cheap rent closer to Thorne’s Geneva location.” The final detail hung in the air – a stark timeline of survival ending abruptly in Owen Thorne’s orbit.
Kieran continued, his voice low and precise, cutting through the thickening silence.
“In some locations, she was made to dress and act like a boy. Until the age of fifteen, in her school photographs, she had short hair.”
Kieran paused, the clinical delivery belying the horror.
“A law enforcement report cites a domestic dispute in Breakwater Settlement. Agneau grabbed her by the hair outside their unit and beat her bloody, until an older woman had to jump in and defend her. The footage confirmed it.”
“So she was alone, and uncared for.” Albert said, he then emptied his glass in a gulp.
He unscrewed the cap, not caring about his company.
‘Old habits die hard.’ Kieran thought.
Kieran’s knuckles whitened slightly on the datapad.
“The neighbor, a Beta woman, offered to care for Cait. A woman named Maria Bonne. All West needed to do was create Cait an account and send money for necessities. He agreed. The woman would handle the rest.”
Kieran’s gaze hardened.
“There are no records of how she treated Cait, but it was demonstrably better. Benjamin left Breakwater before his court appearance. He returned only once, three years later, stayed three weeks, and left town ‘with’ her.”
Kieran’s jaw tightened.
“She returned to Breakwater Settlement alone later that year. That’s when her documented medical complaints began.” He looked directly at Albert.
“Dizziness, fainting, nausea, memory loss, loss of appetite, and muscular and neuropathic pain. The local clinic dismissed it as stress-related. They only ran comprehensive tests when she brought up fertility concerns during her last yearly exam – likely fearing inherited ovarian cancer like her mother.”
“Damn fucking lazy fuckers!” Albert lost his composure.
He slammed his fist onto the polished tabletop, the crystal glasses rattling violently.
Owen drained his glass in one swift, burning gulp to push the shock down.
“Her Burrows lease,” Kieran pressed on, ignoring the outburst, “lists a Henry Thwaites. He was removed from keycard access the same day we found her.” Kieran said.
Kieran swiped the datapad screen and handed it to his father.
“Her Comms logs show another appointment scheduled at the civilian health center. And messages.” Kieran’s voice turned icy.
“Henry ended their relationship explicitly. He stated he couldn’t picture himself being there for her if she got sick like her mother. That he ‘at least left the food for her’. And that they would ‘both share the credit hit’ when she inevitably became homeless and too sick to work.”
Owen finished his own glass with a grimace and poured another big glass, the amber liquid trembling slightly in the decanter.
He took a deep, mindful breath, consciously smoothing his expression, acutely aware that Cait might sense the volcanic fury threatening to erupt.
The datapad shook in Albert’s hand as he drained his own glass for the second time, his silver-gray eyes burning with a terrifying intensity.
Owen poured him another glass, Albert and he both were finally furious about the same thing.
If he had cared about his son, he might have had more common ground with the old codger.
“That,” Albert growled, the sound low and dangerous, “was hard to hear. I cannot believe that man laid his hands upon my daughter.”
Kieran met his father’s gaze squarely.
“If you saw her school pictures, Dad,” he said quietly, the uncharacteristic use of ‘Dad’ stark, “it would break your heart.”
Albert looked away, his throat working, visibly wrestling with the raw, unfamiliar surge of paternal anguish.
“You have worked hard, Kieran.” he said, his voice cracking.
Owen set his glass down with deliberate control.
‘Ben Thwaites, ‘ the name rolled through his mind, the Beta man who could not quite hit the spot an Alpha could.
The one she loved enough to be vulnerable with, enough to give her heart to, was a piece of shit.
He could not imagine how she felt.
Her life had been worse than he could imagine happening down in the Traverse.
He could not believe the attitude he had shown at first to a sick woman like her.
He’d love to leave him as close to the grave as he left her without a care.
He bet she went to her appointments alone and afraid.
“About cleaning up her apartment, I can send my men in, but it’s best if the investigation takes place through your people or the ABO.” Owen said, reminding him.
The sooner they did it, the better.
“I brought men with me,” Albert stated, his voice regaining its steely composure, though the undercurrent of fury remained palpable.
“I will send them down to the Burrows immediately. To her apartment. Everything will be retrieved. We go through it with a fine-tooth comb.” He turned his unnerving gaze back to Kieran.
Owen looked at Kieran inquisitively.
“Were you able to find anything based on Benjamin Agneau’s comms ID?” Owen asked, his own voice tight with contained rage.
“No” Kieran shook his head once, sharply.
“Nothing yet. The ID appears inactive. Completely dark. I do not know how he’s sending the messages.” He paused, a flicker of grim determination in his sharp green eyes.
“But the apartment… it might hold a lead. Maybe pictures, biometrics like a fingerprint or latent DNA on a parcel. The package seized by the LEA had none. There has to be something he overlooked.”
The unspoken implication hung heavy: Benjamin Agneau wouldn’t stay hidden forever.
Not from the Roses.
Not from Owen Thorne.
And certainly not from Cait herself.
The lounge was unnervingly quiet, the kind of silence that settled after a bomb detonation.
Albert Rose stared into his whiskey tumbler, the ice clinking softly as his hand trembled, a rare crack in the Admiral’s famed composure.
Beside him, Kieran traced the rim of his gin glass with a pale finger, his sharp green eyes distant.
Owen Thorne sat rigidly upright in a leather armchair, untouched scotch gleaming amber under the sterile hospital lights.
“Perhaps,” Owen’s voice cut through the stillness, low and frayed at the edges, “you should look after her mind as well.” He didn’t look at Albert, but the accusation hung thick between them.
“After that childhood. After… recent events.” His knuckles whitened around his glass.
“Cait’s been through twenty years of hell condensed into days for us. Remy Dubois might heal her body, but he can’t suture attachment issues. Or make her trust anything handed to her.”
Kieran’s laugh was a dry, brittle sound.
“Trust?” He swirled his gin, watching the liquid cling to the crystal.
“Our sister spent her life surviving betrayal. First her mother’s illness, then that beta ex-boyfriend abandoning her at the funeral.” His gaze flicked to Albert, icy.
“And now she learns she has a whole other life.”
Albert’s silver-gray eyes flashed.
“I honestly had given up hope. I just cannot understand why she did this? Why, when I could have taken care of her?” The words sounded hollow now, even to him.
He had hardened and closed off after being hurt by Yvette and the loss of his youngest.
But the way her mercury-silver eyes had widened in recognition then shuttered instantly, her small frame tensing beneath the thin hospital gown.
She was distancing herself.
She had recognized him instinctually as her sire, but not her father.
Not yet.
She was scared.
Her pheromones had spiked sharply with panic before she’d never learned to bury or control.
He could expect her to embrace him, not after years of lies from a man who was most likely a part of the terrorist group instilled into her..
Owen stood abruptly, pacing to the window overlooking the city.
Fake rain fell, distorting the skyline into smears of light.
“She imprinted on me…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.
The memory of Cait beneath him, her breath catching, the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, flashed unbidden.
Possession.
Obsession.
And yet, he couldn’t reciprocate the bond.
The failure tasted like ash.
“She can feel this pain, but I can’t reciprocate and feel hers…to help steer the ship.”
“Are you sure you don’t feel anything?” Kieran probed, “You seem different. Less cool headed than you normally are.” Kieran watched Owen pace and then lean against the window frame.
A whiskey blush tinted his features.
“I’m definitely uneasy. We all are.” Owen said and took a swig out of his glass.
Kieran watched Owen’s reflection in the dark glass.
“Eihter way, she’s pragmatic like Michael. She’ll weaponize learning to cope. Her education scores reflect it. You’d have to be exceptionally gifted to get through two levels of education concurrently.” He paused, voice softening almost imperceptibly.
“But that trauma? The shame about her biology? Those don’t vanish with spreadsheets. We’ll have to take it slow.”
Albert downed the rest of his whiskey, the burn doing nothing to cleanse the bitterness.
His daughter, ‘Caitriona’, was a ghost of Yvette in blonde and steel.
And he’d failed her before he’d even known her name.
“Yes, let’s start with getting her healthy enough to move home.”