The manor was quiet again, but this silence wasn't peaceful.
It was thick. Tense. Unspoken.
Lucien closed the study door with a heavy click behind them. Max stood by the window, arms crossed tightly, his body practically vibrating with restraint. Noah paced the length of the room like a storm in a suit, his movements sharp and uneven. Silas sat on the armrest of the leather sofa, jaw clenched, hands digging into the fabric.
None of them spoke at first.
Then Max said softly, "You crossed a line."
Silas flinched but didn't deny it.
"I know," he murmured. "But I needed to understand. He's been acting so—"
"Scared," Lucien interrupted quietly, coming to stand beside him. "He's been acting scared."
Silas nodded once. "He flinches when we touch him. He avoids being near us when the bond gets too strong. Every time our heat cycles pull us closer, he disappears"You still don't go through his private things," Max snapped, voice sharp. "He trusted us."
Silas finally looked up. "Did he?"
Max froze.
"I don't say that to hurt him," Silas added quickly. "But if he trusted us that much… he wouldn't be hiding something that clearly hurts him. You saw the look on his face when he caught me. That wasn't just anger. That was panic."
Noah stopped pacing.
He turned toward them, slowly, arms crossed over his chest, eyes cold and calculating.
"What did you find?" he asked.
Silas hesitated.
"Supplements," he said finally. "Suppressants. Illegal heat blockers. And…"
He swallowed hard. "Pads. Not medical gauze—pads. The kind an omega would useduring menstruation."
The room went still.
Lucien's brows furrowed slightly. "That doesn't make sense. He's… he's a true blood alpha. There's no reason—"
Noah cut in, voice quiet but sharp. "Unless he's not just an alpha."
Max turned away, shaking his head. "No. No, we'd know. We'd feel it."
"Would we?" Silas said. "If he's been using hormones, blockers—if he's been hiding it for years—what if the only reason we haven't felt it is because he's made damn sure we can't?"
Lucien exhaled deeply. "This changes everything."
Noah said nothing. His silence was heavier than shouting. His eyes burned with unreadable intensity.
Finally, he spoke."We wait."
Everyone turned to him.
"What?" Silas asked, stunned.
"We wait," Noah repeated, slower now, more controlled. "We do not force this out of him. Not again. Not like today. That's not how we handle someone we love."
"But he's hurting," Silas argued.
Noah's eyes softened—only barely. "Then we love him until he's ready to stop hiding. We show him it's safe to fall apart. Not make him feel like he's being hunted in his own damn home."
Max ran a hand through his hair. "I hate this. I hate feeling helpless."
"We're not helpless," Lucien said. "We're patient. There's a difference."
Silas looked down at his hands.
"I didn't mean to scare him," he said quietly. "I just… I've never been good at waiting."
"Then learn," Noah said. "For him, we all do.""Then learn," Noah said. "For him, we all do."
The four of them sat in silence for a long time. Not angry. Not resentful.
Just… waiting.
Outside the window, rain had begun to fall—slow and steady. And somewhere upstairs, behind a locked bedroom door, Sam sat alone in the dark, holding the pieces of himself he wasn't sure he was ready to share.