The room was quiet—too quiet. It felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath, tense with anticipation.
Alex stood in the middle of the room, his bare legs chilled by the evening air. He wore nothing but an oversized white T-shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder, and a pair of briefs that clung delicately to his slender hips. His fingers twisted in the hem of the shirt as he stared down at the floor, gathering courage like broken pieces of glass. Every second that passed threatened to slice through the fragile mask he was about to wear.
"I'm… I'm willing to hear you out," Alex said, his voice small and careful, like a wisp of a promise wrapped in uncertainty. He still didn't meet Damien's eyes. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his shirt, pulling, twisting, releasing—like he was trying to unravel his own nerves.
Damien's breath caught.
Alex could feel his gaze dragging slowly over his figure, and for a moment, his pupils darkening with something primal. Desire, perhaps, or guilt tangled with longing. He took a tentative step forward, then another.
"Alex…" Damien's voice was hoarse, scraped raw by emotion. "I was a complete idiot."
Alex didn't flinch, but the lines around his mouth tightened.
"I should have never treated you like that," Damien continued, each word sounding heavier than the last. "I should have never hurt you. I was blinded—blinded by revenge, resentment… and I didn't see that you were also a victim." He raised his hand as if to touch Alex but hesitated midair, fingers trembling before they dropped to his side. "And instead of helping you… I caused you even more pain."
Alex finally looked up.
"But why?" Alex interrupted, taking a step closer, his bare feet silent on the carpet. "Why did you think hurting me would be the way to get revenge on my family?"
Damien's jaw clenched. His hands balled into fists at his sides, and his eyes darkened with regret.
"Because," he said after a beat, "I thought you were their most beloved child."
Alex laughed, short and bitter.
"Their most beloved?" he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Damien, my family has never cared about me."
His words echoed against the silence like a confession spat out after years of holding it in.
"I know that now," Damien said, his voice thick with remorse. "I know how wrong I was. But even if they had loved you—even if—what I did was inexcusable. I dragged you into a storm that you never asked to be a part of. You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of it." Damien's voice poured with guilt and regret.
The words sounded genuine—his tone ragged, remorseful, almost broken—but for Alex, it was like watching water try to smooth out a cracked mirror. The damage was already there, spiderwebbed deep beneath the surface. No matter how many apologies Damien offered, the reflection would never be whole again.
He wanted to believe those words meant something. Once, they might have. Once, he might've collapsed into Damien's arms, aching for comfort, willing to pretend that love alone could fix what had been shattered. But not anymore. Not after everything.
Trust? Forgiveness? Those were distant stars now—beautiful to look at, but utterly unreachable. And yet, here he was, pretending. Smiling with the corners of his lips while his heart twisted under the weight of necessity. His child's life—his child's safety—depended on the one man he should've run from.
Damien's pheromones were the only thing that could stabilize the baby growing inside him. That was the truth that tied his hands, forced his voice into softness when it should have been screaming, made him walk barefoot into the wolf's den and offer his throat.
So he stood there, a mask on his face, letting the silence stretch a moment longer before asking, almost casually, " Why do you want revenge against my family so badly?"
He hadn't expected a real answer. Not something meaningful. He assumed Damien would dodge the question like he had every other time. But this time, something shifted.
Damien's eyes darkened with a storm Alex couldn't name. His jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked as if he were swallowing broken glass.
"I…" he hesitated. "I can't tell you everything. Not yet. But I can tell you this—it's your father. Your father is the reason I carry this hatred. The reason revenge has festered inside me like rot."
He paused, his throat working around the words.
"I wanted to hurt him. I needed to. And I thought…one of the best ways to really make him suffer was to go after what he loved most. His pride. His legacy. His children."
A bitter laugh rasped from his lips as he looked away. "I thought you were the one he treasured most. That hurting you would be like driving a dagger into his heart."
Alex's mouth fell slightly open, but the sound that came out was not a cry or a protest. It was a hollow, bitter chuckle.
"You thought I was his favorite?" he asked, unable to contain the twisted amusement rising in his chest. His lips curled upward, but there was no joy in the smile. "Damien, if that man had even a sliver of affection for me, it would've been a miracle. My family has treated me like a stain on their name since I was old enough to walk. I've been ignored, humiliated, gaslit, and used. They would celebrate if I disappeared. And you—you thought I was the jewel in their crown?"
Damien's brows furrowed in confusion and shame, his gaze finally meeting Alex's.
"I was an idiot!" Damien admitted.
The silence that followed was sharp and suffocating. Damien opened his mouth to speak again, but Alex turned his back on him, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat.
How ironic, he thought bitterly. Damien had wanted to hurt Richard's precious child. He'd wanted to make the man bleed through the wounds of his offspring. But Alex? Alex wasn't even Richard's flesh and blood.
He was the unwanted one. The inconvenient one. The one who didn't fit, didn't belong. The one born from another man's blood.
And Damien would never know. That secret would remain buried.
So he breathed slowly, steadying himself.
He was going to sleep with Damien tonight.
He was going to let the man who had wronged him press his body against his, touch him with hands that had once inflicted pain, kiss him with a mouth that had once spit venom.
Not because he wanted to.
Not because he had forgiven him.
But because his child needed to survive. And this was the price.
Let Damien believe the lies. Let him think Alex still cared. That he wanted to try again. That his heart had cracked but not completely shattered.
It was almost poetic—the way Damien had wanted to use Alex to break Richard, and now Alex would use Damien to break free from them all.
The game had changed. The pawn had become the player.
And Damien? He didn't even realize he was on the board.
"I'm so sorry, Alex," Damien whispered from behind him. "I deeply…deeply regret everything."
Alex turned around and stepped forward, gently touching Damien's cheek. The contact was unexpected, soft. Damien leaned into it instinctively, his expression one of aching vulnerability.
"I'm willing to forget everything," Alex said, lying through his teeth but letting his voice drip with honey. "And start over. It wasn't easy getting here… but I realized I care about you too much to let it go."
Damien blinked, stunned. "You… do?"
"I do," Alex whispered, stroking the side of his face. "And if we're going to move forward, I want us to do it right."
Damien's breath hitched, and he caught Alex's hand in his own, holding it like it was something delicate and sacred.
"I care about you too, Alex. I have… from the very beginning. There was something about you, something I couldn't ignore. It wasn't just attraction. It was… more."
But before Damien could elaborate, Alex closed the space between them and kissed him.
The kiss was tender, calculated. Not too desperate, not too cold—just enough to ignite the illusion. Damien froze at first, then melted into it, his hands brushing over Alex's arms, up his spine.
"Alex," he gasped when they finally pulled apart. "Are you… are you really sure about this?"
"I am," Alex murmured against his lips. "But I have two conditions."
Damien nodded quickly, eager. "Anything."
"No roughness," Alex said firmly, his voice layered with false vulnerability. "And I want you to cover me in your pheromones."
Damien blinked, clearly confused. "My pheromones? But… Alex, you can't even sense them."
"I can't," Alex admitted, "but others can. I want them to know I'm yours. That I've chosen you."
Damien's hands trembled, his eyes wide with emotion. "I promise. I would never treat you roughly again. I swear it."
He leaned in and kissed Alex's forehead with reverence.
"But let me take a quick shower first," Damien added, stepping back with a sheepish smile. "I wasn't exactly expecting… this."
Alex offered a soft smile and nodded. "I'll wait here."
Damien turned to grab his luggage, setting it down by the bed before retreating into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind him.
The moment he disappeared, the smile on Alex's face faded like smoke in the wind.
He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a slow, measured breath.
He'd done it.
It had been easier than he expected—convincing Damien that he was willing to forgive him, to let go of the pain and trust him again. It was all a performance. Every touch, every word, perfectly timed.
Because Alex needed something Damien didn't even realize he had to give—pheromones. Enough of them to ensure the child growing inside of him would develop safely. Dr. Addison had been very clear: the child needed the biological father's scent, and luckily Alex had a way to store that scent.
After he got what he needed, he would vanish.
He would take his child far away from the Mastersons. From Damien. From every manipulative scheme and cruel betrayal. Let them all believe he'd finally submitted, finally become their pawn. Let them celebrate. It wouldn't last.
Once he had what he needed, Alex would be gone—like a ghost through the cracks.
And he would never look back.