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Anderson Estate – Outer Garden, Midnight
POV: Oliver
The stars were out. Cold, sharp, and distant.
Just like how Sam had been all night.
Oliver leaned against the stone railing of the Anderson garden terrace, arms crossed, heart heavy.
From inside the mansion, laughter echoed faintly. The kind of laughter that came from shared bonds, from decisions made. From declarations that changed everything.
Noah had accepted them all.
Sam.
Max.
Silas.
Lucien.
And Sam had let it happen.
That's what cut the most.
He let it happen.
Oliver's throat tightened. He closed his eyes, remembering…
> "You're my family too, Ollie,"
Sam had said once, after patching a knife wound together in the dark of a Vincent hideout.
"No one will ever touch you as long as I'm breathing."
But that was before the mate bond.
Before Noah.
Before the Enigma triplets looked at Noah like he was gravity itself — and let themselves fall.
Oliver wasn't angry at Noah. Not exactly.
He wasn't even angry at Lucien, though the doctor's perfect composure made something ugly crawl up his spine.
No — the real burn came from watching Sam drift.
Watching him disappear into this tidal wave of fate and instinct and magic…
And wondering if he'd ever reach back for Oliver again.
A sound.
Footsteps.
Oliver turned, his heart already knowing.
Sam.
He looked tired. He always did when he was trying not to feel something.
Sam:
"You left the hall early."
Oliver gave a bitter smile.
Oliver:
"Figured no one would notice."
Sam stepped closer. His scent was tense — alpha, true blood, confused. Tied in too many knots.
Oliver hated how much he noticed it. Hated how much he missed it.
Sam:
"I noticed."
Oliver scoffed, turning back to the stars.
Oliver:
"Yeah? Before or after you let Noah stand between you and your brothers? Before or after you agreed to share him with that doctor?"
The words stung. Oliver meant them to.
But Sam didn't snap. He just exhaled.
Sam:
"I didn't choose this, Ollie."
Oliver (quietly):
"Yeah, but you're not fighting it either."
Silence stretched between them like a wound.
Oliver:
"You promised I'd always come first."
That's when Sam finally looked at him — really looked.
There was guilt in his eyes. Real. Raw.
Sam:
"You do."
Oliver shook his head. Eyes burning.
Oliver:
"No, Sam. Not anymore. Not since him. Not since all three of you started looking at him like he's your sun."
Sam stepped forward — too close, too fast — and gripped Oliver's arms.
Sam (low, fierce):
"You are my anchor, Oliver. You're the only thing that's kept me sane in this hellhole of a world. Don't you ever think that changes because of a bond."
Oliver stared up at him, trembling.
Oliver:
"Then why do I feel like I'm losing you?"
Sam's voice broke.
Sam:
"Because I'm losing myself."
And that — that was the moment Oliver understood.
Sam wasn't happy.
He wasn't whole.
Not yet.
The bond might be real, but Sam hadn't surrendered to it fully.
He was still fighting. Still afraid.
Still caught between what he wanted, what he needed, and what he owed.
And maybe… just maybe…
Oliver was still part of what he needed.
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