CHAPTER FOURTEEN
1543 Words
The moon hovered low in the sky, casting silver over the pack lands like spilled milk. Distant howls echoed from the northern woods, but inside the Ryker Brothers’ compound, all was quiet—too quiet.
In the east wing, where the servants stayed, the air hung heavy with steam and soap. The sharp scent of bleach still clung to the cracks in the stone floor. River sat alone on a narrow bench in the laundry room, scrubbing a shirt that wasn’t hers with a worn bristle brush. Her fingers were raw. The edge of her apron was damp and dirty. The water had long since turned cold.
She didn’t know how long she’d been there.
Maybe she didn’t want to.
The silence was better than the voices—Tasha’s in particular, dripping with cruelty dressed as confidence. But even alone, the echoes stayed with her.
“Ryker’s pet.”
“Pretty in a pitiful way.”
“She should be grateful someone wants her.”
River blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. The bristles slipped from her hand and floated in the murky water like a little dead bird.
From the hallway, footsteps echoed—strong, slow, and deliberate.
Not hurried. Not frantic.
Just… Ryker.
She didn’t have to look up to know it was him.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” he said, voice low.
River’s throat tightened. She didn’t move.
Ryker walked in anyway. He stood across from her, hands in the pockets of his dark slacks. His white shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing the veins in his forearms. She hated that she noticed.
“I’m not tired,” she said softly.
“You are,” he replied, “but you don’t know how to rest.”
River picked up the shirt again and scrubbed at it like her life depended on it. “Someone has to finish these.”
“There are a dozen others.”
“They don’t like me.”
He didn’t reply at first.
“I didn’t bring you here to be liked.”
River stopped scrubbing. Her knuckles were bone white. “Then why did you bring me here?”
She looked up finally. His eyes met hers. Blue. Piercing.
“For a dozen reasons,” he said. “But right now, I just want you to come with me.”
“I have work to—”
“River.”
It wasn’t a command. Not exactly. But the tone left no room for argument.
She stood slowly, placing the shirt back into the bucket like it might explode if she dropped it.
They didn’t speak as they walked through the dimly lit corridors. River kept her head down. Ryker walked like he owned the place—because he did. Every step he took seemed to silence the world around him.
When they stepped out onto the patio that overlooked the eastern slope of the forest, River wrapped her arms around herself. The night air was crisp. Stars blinked lazily overhead, scattered like dust.
Ryker leaned against the wooden railing, looking out. “This used to be my brother’s room. Before the war.”
She glanced at him. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You don’t make asking easy.”
A beat passed. Then—“Fair.”
Silence stretched between them. The wind stirred her hair. Ryker didn’t move. He was so still, he barely looked human. Like stone carved from anger and purpose.
“They were laughing at you again.”
River looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“No one here sees me as more than what I am.”
Ryker turned then, leaning closer, his voice dropping. “And what are you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Say it.”
“I’m an omega,” she muttered.
His hand closed gently around her elbow. “No. Say what you said before. About not being anything.”
She swallowed.
“I’m not… I’m not who I used to be.”
“And who were you?”
“Someone with a name,” she whispered.
Ryker tilted his head. “You still have one.”
River’s throat burned. “No one calls me by it. They only say 'omega' or 'her.' Sometimes not even that.”
“I call you River.”
Her lips parted.
“You don’t have to be loud to be heard, you know,” he added.
“I’m not strong like you,” she said.
“No one is.”
That made her laugh, bitter and small. “You think being feared is the same as being respected?”
“Sometimes it is.”
“And sometimes it’s just...lonely.”
That pulled something out of him. His shoulders relaxed a little. His expression softened. “Are you lonely?”
River hesitated. “I think I forgot what it’s like not to be.”
He was quiet for a while.
“When I found you in the auction house,” he said, “you looked me in the eye. No one else did.”
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“I think you did.”
“Then maybe I wanted to die with some dignity.”
Ryker stepped closer. “Then why didn’t you?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you just give up? You had every reason.”
“I don’t know.” She clenched her jaw. “Maybe I’m too stubborn.”
He smiled faintly. “Or maybe you’re stronger than you think.”
She looked away again. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes it worse. It makes me feel like I should be different. Like I’m failing at something invisible.”
He stepped forward until there was only a breath between them.
“You’re not failing,” he said. “You’re surviving.”
“That’s not the same.”
“It’s more than most manage.”
His hand reached for hers, but he didn’t force it. Just hovered near, waiting.
When her fingers finally touched his, he stilled.
“I don’t hate you,” she said quietly. “But I don’t trust you either.”
“I don’t expect you to.”
“You confuse me.”
Ryker’s eyes met hers. “Because I kill people?”
She didn’t blink. “Because sometimes you’re cruel. And then sometimes you’re kind. And I never know which version of you is real.”
“They both are,” he said simply. “I don’t pretend to be anything I’m not.”
“Then who are you really?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he lifted her hand slowly and pressed it to his chest.
She felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Solid. Real.
“I’m the man who thinks about you too much,” he said softly. “Who hears your name in the quiet. Who watches you scrub other people’s messes and wonders why you don’t scream.”
River’s lips parted.
“You don’t belong here,” he added. “Not like this.”
“But this is all I have.”
“Then let me give you something more.”
Her eyes glistened. “What would that look like?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I’d burn down this pack before I let it chew you up.”
The wind picked up again. This time it smelled like pine and earth and night.
River looked at him for a long time.
“I’m scared of you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“But I don’t hate you.”
His mouth twitched. “You said that already.”
She stepped back slowly, her hand slipping from his. “I needed to say it again.”
He didn’t move.
And for a moment, she wondered if he would kiss her.
He didn’t.
Instead, Ryker leaned against the railing again, looking up at the moon.
“You ever wonder,” he asked quietly, “why the Moon Goddess made us this way?”
River followed his gaze. “She didn’t make me weak.”
“No,” he agreed. “She made you brave.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“I should go,” she said again.
This time, he let her.
But just before she reached the door, he spoke once more.
“River.”
She paused.
“I’ll come find you in the morning. We’ll talk about what you want.”
She didn’t turn. Just nodded and slipped inside.
The walk back to her cot was different this time. Not easier. Not lighter. But different.
The other girls were whispering when she passed. Tasha sneered as she climbed into bed.
“Nice walk with your Alpha?” she muttered.
River said nothing.
She slid beneath the blanket Ryker had given her. It was warmer than she remembered.
Tasha leaned in the dark. “Does he know you cry every night?”
River didn’t reply.
But this time, she didn’t cry.
Not even a little.
Just listened to the slow hum of her own heartbeat and wondered, for the first time, what it might feel like to be something more than an omega.
- Writer
