chapter 5

PRESENT

The warning bell echoed across campus.

Sam didn't move.

Oliver reached into his backpack without a word and pulled out a small black pouch. Discreet. Compact. He pressed it into Sam's hand under the pretence of a casual stretch.

"Check before you go in."

Sam nodded, throat tight.

He slipped behind the rooftop ventilation unit, pulling the hoodie lower around his hips as he checked himself. No stain-yet. But the ache was already settling in low in his abdomen. That slow, curling pain reminded him exactly what he was.

A True Blood Alpha shouldn't bleed.

Shouldn't need discreet black pads. Shouldn't feel heat pooling between their thighs. Shouldn't wake up with dreams that left him aching and confused in ways no medical book could explain.

He shouldn't exist.

When he stepped back out, Oliver didn't say anything. Just nodded once.

And that was enough.

Together, they climbed down the rooftop ladder, moving into the sea of students.

Sam's gait was careful-measured. Too much pressure in the wrong place and he'd feel it. Too little control, and he'd stain.

Aria's scent hit him first near the lockers: clover honey and warm linen. Her nose twitched as he passed, her omega instincts razor-sharp.

"You smell off." She said it to no one in particular, loud enough to carry.

Jett and Damon looked over.

Oliver touched Sam's elbow lightly-an anchor. Just enough to keep Sam from bolting.

"Ignore it."

But Max was already watching from across the hallway. Brows drawn. Eyes narrowed.

He was sensing it now-more than just the scent.

He was sensing Sam's shift.

And Sam... was running out of places to hide.

SILAS – POV

Oliver was alone behind the gym, leaned against the cold brick wall, sipping from his metal thermos like the world wasn’t watching him.

Silas had been watching all day.

He waited until the hallway cleared and the bell rang before moving. Fast. Quiet.

Cornering a threat.

Oliver didn’t flinch when he approached. He never did. That made Silas want to shake him.

“You think you're clever?” Silas said, voice low and sharp. “Hiding things for him?”

Oliver didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The silence was answered enough.

Silas stepped closer, teeth bared. “Something’s wrong with him. He’s hiding something—big. And you’re the only one he talks to.”

Still, nothing.

“What are you, his keeper? His mate?”

At that, Oliver’s eyes flicked to him. Calm. Unshaken. “No.”

“Then why the hell are you always sniffing around like some protective lapdog?”

“Because someone has to be.”

Silas froze.

The words weren’t angry. They were tired. Like Oliver had carried too much, too long.

“You don’t know him,” Oliver added quietly. “Not really. Not anymore.”

That cut deep. Deeper than Silas expected. He snarled, pressing a hand against the wall beside Oliver’s head.

“Then tell me what he’s hiding. If you care about him, tell me before it gets worse.”

Oliver met his gaze. Calm. Steady. Dangerous in a different way than Silas was used to.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I did.”

“Try me.”

A tense beat passed. Oliver’s hand dipped into his jacket, and for one wild second, Silas thought he might pull out evidence. Proof. A confession.

But all he did was pull out the thermos again. He took a sip.

“You think his biggest secret is whatever you’re sniffing at?” he asked, voice low. “You haven’t even scratched the surface.”

Silas narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oliver finally smiled—but it wasn’t kind. “Ask yourself this, Silas—if Sam had a mate, do you really think he’d tell you?”

Silas went completely still.

Mate.

The word hit like a punch to the ribs.

He hadn’t even considered that possibility.

And Oliver knew it.

Without another word, Oliver brushed past him and disappeared around the corner, leaving Silas in the shadow of something too dark to name.

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