Chapter Text
Style lay curled up as much as the old clinic bed allowed, nestled beside Fadel. Keen had left the two alone and stepped outside once it was clear that Bison wouldn’t return and the police weren’t on their tail. At first Style was entirely opposed to lying down next to Fadel. But in the end, he gave in to the alpha’s insistence—and perhaps to his own instincts—and curled up beside him. Both of them needed to sleep and rest a little, but neither felt the pull of sleep.
“You said you wanted something,” Fadel said suddenly. When Style didn’t respond, he clarified, “When the doctor came into the room.”
“Oh.” The omega raised his head to look at Fadel. “I want to keep this pup. I’ve thought a lot about it, and I’ve always wanted pups of my own.”
“I see,” Fadel replied, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.
His reaction made Style chuckle softly. “I wasn’t done talking. Yes, I want this pup but more importantly I want you in my life. I know it’s all so sudden, we haven’t talked about this before, and you have so many things to deal with, but—”
This time, Fadel cut him off with a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, Style.”
“I love you too.” Style’s loving voice was like a cool summer breeze. It brushed gently over Fadel’s skin, leaving behind a pleasant sensation. He could listen to the omega’s voice for hours on end and never grow tired of it.
Maybe nothing more was needed. Maybe holding each other in an uncomfortable position on an old clinic bed and being able to say “I love you” was enough. Maybe they could get through this. Maybe, for once, he could live a normal life. Style, his father, their pup and Fadel. Maybe even Bison. Dreaming didn’t hurt anyone.
The phone sitting beside the bed buzzed. A message from Bison.
Kant is alive. Don’t look for us for a while.
"That cockroach," Fadel muttered. "Kant's alive."
"What? Really?" Style suddenly straightened up. His abrupt movement out of Fadel's arms annoyed the alpha and he couldn't suppress the growl that escaped through his teeth. Thankfully Style didn’t seem to notice.
"Where are they? Are they coming here? Is Kant hurt?"
Fadel held the phone screen up to Style’s face. "This is all I know."
Bison’s short message was enough for Fadel but it left Style frustrated, wanting more answers. "They’re probably fine," Fadel said as he put the phone down. "Bison takes these things seriously."
"Do you think he’ll hurt Kant?"
"That’s their business," Fadel said, pulling Style back into his arms. "Let’s focus on ours."
The deep kiss that followed made Style forget all about his friend. Knowing Kant was alive was enough for now. He slid his fingers into the alpha’s hair, fully giving in to the moment. There were still a few hours left until morning, and they deserved to spend them however they wanted.
When Kant came to his senses, he wasn’t lying in an awkward position on the hard floor of the warehouse among the boxes anymore. He was in a small dark room. Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness he slowly sat up. His upper thigh, where the bullet had struck during his fight with the captain, throbbed with pain akin to death itself. At least the bleeding had stopped and his body temperature had risen. He scanned the room, faintly illuminated by the light streaming in from under the closed door. He was certain he’d never been here before.
Using the bed for support, he attempted to stand but immediately regretted it. It was as if his body had been waiting for him to try, only to give the alarm. His head spun and his leg ached as if he’d been shot all over again. He immediately slumped back onto the bed, knocking over the empty glass sitting on the nightstand as he fumbled for something to steady himself.
The sound was impossible to miss. And sure enough a few minutes later the door opened and someone turned on the lights. Bison. Of course, it was Bison.
Kant squinted at the figure standing in the doorway, his eyes adjusting once again, this time to the brightness. The smaller frame watching him didn’t appear hostile, surprisingly. Seeing Bison again brought a flood of memories rushing back. The omega’s cries echoed in his mind.
“You do have peculiar tastes,” Kant finally said, breaking the silence as Bison remained quiet in the doorway. “Instead of finishing off your prey where you find them, you drag them back to your den, patch them up, and let them sleep in your nest. Is this some kind of fetish too?”
“I didn’t just patch you up,” Bison replied coolly. “I removed the bullet and stitched you up. You’re lucky you were out cold because I had nothing to knock you out with.”
Even the thought made the beta shudder. He didn’t want to imagine what Bison might have planned for him; perhaps staying in the warehouse would have been better.
“And you’re not in my nest,” Bison added, finally stepping away from the doorway and approaching Kant. Given the size of the room it only took three steps. “And you’re not my prey. Thanks to your little heroics, I owed you two lives.” He raised two fingers in the air. “One I paid back by getting you out of that warehouse.” He lowered one finger. “And the other by bringing you to this safe house.”
“Safe house?”
“How do you like it?” Bison asked, his gaze sweeping over the small room like someone surveying a new space. “A place no one knows about. Not the cops, not the mother, not even Fadel. It was my little secret. Now you’re a part of it.”
The threat laced in the omega’s tone was unmistakable, just as it had been since the second time they’d met. Kant swallowed hard.
A safe house no one else knew about. It felt more dangerous than safe.
“What are you going to do to me?” It was impossible to hide the tremble in his voice. But he no longer needed to pretend he wasn’t afraid.
“I don’t know,” Bison replied as he sat down next to Kant. “Everyone knows you’re the one who exposed us. So, I’ll have to keep you hidden here for a while. Since your little cop friend is dead back there, it looks like we’re safe for now. If your little betrayal doesn’t blow up into something big I might even let you go.”
“I… I had no choice.”
“Shhh.” Bison pressed a finger against the beta’s lips. “Don’t tire out those pretty lips of yours. While I was dragging you out of that warehouse, driving, performing a little surgery and waiting you to wake up, I had plenty of time to think. And I realized something. Your little cop wasn’t trying to arrest us, was he?”
Kant didn’t dare say anything with Bison’s finger resting on his lips. He simply frowned.
“He’s the one who hid you from us for two days, isn’t he? And the one who told you to take Style and go to the warehouse? I’m guessing he’s also the one who sent us your location.”
Kant’s eyes widened. “How…” he whispered.
“Looks like he wanted to get rid of all of us,” Bison said casually, as if discussing the weather. It was enough to send a chill through Kant’s blood. And now, with Bison so close… “You’re not leaving here for a while. Not if you want to stay alive, that is.”
“No, Bison. What about Babe? Shit, what about Fadel and Style? Is Style okay?”
Bison shrugged. “I sent them messages before I tossed our phones into forest. They’re probably fine. And don’t worry about your brother.”
Then he stood, heading toward the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to look at Kant, who was on the edge of a breakdown in the bed. “Oh and by the way, my heat’s coming up. I’m offering you not just safety but entertainment too.”
With that, he shut the door.
Kant forgot all about the dryness in his mouth and the pain in his leg.
As the first rays of morning sunlight filtered into the clinic room Style and Fadel had finally succumbed to sleep. The omega’s back rested against Fadel’s chest, their hands draped protectively over Style’s abdomen. It was a moment of peace, until the soft knock at the door stirred Fadel from his slumber.
“Come in,” he managed to say before the door opened unbidden. The slight movement in the bed woke Style as well—his light sleep made it impossible to stay unconscious for long. When Style caught sight of the woman entering, he hurriedly got out of bed. Fadel, as much as his stitches allowed, straightened himself.
“Fadel,” Lilly spoke as though Style wasn’t even in the room, her gaze fixed solely on the alpha. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Mother, thank you. You didn’t need to come all this way.”
“Oh, you have no idea how worried I was when Keen told me the news,” she replied, settling into the chair Keen had brought for her. Lilly was an alpha—there was no need to check her scent to know that. Her very presence in the room made Style’s hair stand on end, but he was determined not to waver in his decision.
Finding a gap in their conversation, Style cleared his throat softly to draw attention to himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, clasping his hands and bowing his head slightly. Lilly returned the gesture halfheartedly. “I’m Style.”
“Style is my boyfriend,” Fadel announced, breaking the first news. That alone made Lilly furrow her brows.
“I thought we talked about this,” she said.
“There’s more,” Fadel added, his tone firm, unwilling to be interrupted. “Style is pregnant.”
Lilly shot to her feet. “What? You’re lucky to already be in a clinic. I’ll ask Dr. August to prepare a room immediately.”
“Mother,” Fadel said, his tone protective as he grasped Style’s wrist. It was as if letting go would mean someone—perhaps Lilly’s men or the clinic staff—would take Style away. “We’re keeping the pup. That’s our final decision.”
“Please don’t be upset with us, ma’am,” Style finally spoke, but his voice wavered with a loss of courage. Fadel tightened his grip on Style’s wrist, as if to give him courage.
Lilly smiled, then moved to the other side of the bed, directly in front of Style. She raised a hand, making the omega flinch, but her touch was gentle as she caressed his cheek. “I’m saying this for your own good, dear. Aren’t you a little too young for this? Do you really think you can take responsibility for a pup? A... criminal’s pup?”
“Mother!” The voice came from the doorway. Keen, who had been standing there silently, spoke up, his tone sharp. Lilly had crossed the line.
Fadel released Style’s wrist, gritted his teeth, and despite the pain in his abdomen, stood and positioned himself between Style and Lilly.
“You’ve crossed so many of my boundaries in the past,” he said, his words dripping with anger. “But this? Even you can’t do this. I was already thinking about quitting, but thank you for giving me a reason. Mother.”
“Fadel—”
“Please leave before anyone else gets hurt.”
Lilly glared at both Fadel and Style, her gaze full of frustration. Finally, she turned and left the room. Keen hesitated for a moment before following her, but not without speaking.
“Last night, I sent some men to investigate the warehouse,” he said quickly. “The cop who ambushed you is dead and it seems the precinct has no idea what happened. I’ve erased all footage and evidence.” With that he left, not staying long enough to see Fadel’s grateful glance.
After the storm of the encounter, silence filled the room. Fadel took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger and frustration within him. He turned to Style, who was still staring at the door where Lilly had disappeared.
“Style,” Fadel said softly, reaching out to take his hand. “Are you okay?”
Style nodded, but the tears in his eyes betrayed him. “We expected her to care nothing for the news,” he murmured. “But... I didn’t think she would be this harsh.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you or our pup,” Fadel said unwaveringly. “Not her, not anyone. They can try if they want.”
Seeing the resolve in Fadel’s eyes, Style finally relaxed, leaning his head against Fadel’s chest. Fadel helped them back onto the bed, his own stitches making standing a challenge.
“From now on let’s just focus on our own matters,” Fadel whispered. “Just the three of us. No one else gets a say.”
Style managed a faint smile. “In that case,” he said softly, “We should start thinking of a name.”
Fadel’s eyes lit up as he chuckled softly. “Maybe we should tell your father first.”
“He’ll take it better,” Style replied. “He’s always said I owe him a grandchild as his only kid.”
Fadel smiled at that, pulling Style closer. Just having the omega beside him was enough to make him feel at ease. Style was a reminder of the life he could have—different, peaceful, and entirely his own.
His first task would be to get them out of the clinic. Then, he’d meet Style’s father properly and share the news. Moving in with Style seemed like the best option after that. He could go back to cook hamburgers, care for his omega, and eventually reach out to Bison again. Oh, and he couldn’t forget—Style’s neck was missing a mating mark.
Of course, everything had its time. How well he’d stick to the plan with Style—someone who brought chaos wherever he went—was a question only time could answer.