Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

“Stop running boys! Charlie, you will hurt yourself.” His grandmother exclaimed, her eyes trained on the two pups running around the medical hut. 

Charles wanted to stop, he really did. He was getting really tired and it was getting harder to breathe. But Max was still chasing him with a lizard clutched in his hand and threatening to throw it on to him the moment he stopped.

If there was one thing Charles hated more than anything else in life, it was lizards!

“Tell Max to stop Mamie!” Charles screamed. 

Charles thought he could trust Max. He confided his deepest darkest fears to his friend and now look —

Max was laughing menacingly, dangling the lizard in his direction. 

“No!” Charles shrieks again, his small legs pumping as fast as they can. In his rush, he misjudges the tight gap between the two cots he’s trying to squeeze through and slams his knee against the edge. A jolt of sharp pain shoots through him, sending him stumbling and crashing to the ground. 

For a brief second everything is blissfully quiet — before a sharp cry shatters the silence. 

Charles just lays there, between the two cots, sobbing his heart out, patting his knee slowly and when his hand comes back tinged red, he cries harder.

“Oh my!” Charles’ grandmother hurries over, picking up the small pup in her arms, carefully to not jostle the injured leg further and gently deposits him onto the cot. 

Just as she’s doing that, another wail rings out in the room. 

This time it’s Max — also crying loudly. His face turned red immediately as sobs wracked his small body. 

His grandmother jumps up and rushes to Max, her hands patting around the other pup’s body to see if she’d missed something.  “Oh Max. Did you hit something too dear?” 

“N - no.” Max hiccuped, his words coming out hoarse and uneven, caught between a sob and a breath. “But Charlie — he’s — and blood.”

“Are you crying for Charles?” She questioned, rubbing away the tears flowing steadily down Max’s ruddy cheeks.

“Y-yes.” 

“Charles will be okay dear.” She cooed, endlessly endeared by the tight bond formed between these two pups. “Why don’t you let the lizard out while I look after Charles hm?” 

“ Okay. ” Max sniffled, wiping at his nose as he stepped outside.

She turned back to her grandson. Charles' face was flushed, his eyes puffy and red-rimmed and he sniffled softly, the remnants of his tears still clinging to him.

“Let's have a look Charlie.” She reached out gently to prod around his knee. It was barely anything, just a small surface level abrasion. 

She reaches for some water to clean the wound, rummages in her herb drawer to find some neem paste and applies that before wrapping his knee up in some cotton. 

All the while Charles hisses and winces at every small move. Max has also returned at some point, waiting patiently at the foot of the cot, concern evident in his eyes. 

“There, all done.” She says, patting his knee once. 

She watches on amusedly as Charles inspects his leg this way and that before loudly declaring — “Max, I can't play with you anymore. I can’t run or walk, my leg is broken!” 

Max gasped dramatically. “Oh no!” 

He also looked about two seconds away from bawling his eyes out again so she hurried to intervene. 

“You haven’t broken it Charles. You will be fine in a few days.” 

“But — it hurts.” Charles said, rather pathetically. 

“Ah well I have a secret medicine that I will share with you both.” She whispered conspiratorially, motioning for the two pups to lean in. “The secret is —” She then leans down to kiss Charles’ cheek and then the other side and continues to pepper little kisses until Charles giggles loudly, his earlier woes forgotten. “See! Pain is all gone now.” 

“That’s not a medicine!” Max retorts, ever the logical one. 

His grandmother chuckles and reaches out to ruffle his blond locks. “Love is always the best medicine my dear.” 

Both pups nod gravely as if she had just spilled the world’s most hard kept secret. She had meant every word. Having loved ones around during hard times always alleviates the pain, even if just a little. 

“Also —” She began, grabbing their attention. Now that both pups stopped crying. It was time she scolded them for not listening to her. “This is why we don’t run around and stop when adults tell you to.” 

She crossed her arms across her chest to add to the intimidation and luckily it worked because both of them looked guilty.

“But it was Max’s fault! He was chasing me.” Charles huffed, his lower lip jutting out.

Max lowered his head, avoiding her eyes. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Charles’ grandmother tutted at them both. “You both need to look after each other.” Then a little more seriously, she asked. “Promise me you will look after each other?”

Their big eyes were earnest as they both eagerly nodded.

The two pups, barely six years old at the time, likely didn’t understand the true weight of the promise they so easily made to her. But deep down, she knew they would last. 

She also knew she wouldn’t be around to protect Charles forever. 

One day, her little grandson would be left alone. She just hoped that when that day did come, Max would be by his side. 

Charles knew from the scent alone who was about to walk through the door before the alpha had even made his appearance. 

One whiff of the salty sea breeze scent and it had instantly calmed Charles down. 

He’d been stressed all morning with a difficult birth of a pup. The omega had been in labour for hours, contractions weakening her body every other minute and while Charles tried his best to help, her alpha was extremely uncooperative. 

Trying to tame an alpha when their mate was giving birth was the downside to the whole birthing process. But this alpha in particular was a menace. Hissing and biting everytime Charles so much as breathed in the same space as the omega and their newborn pup.

Every other time Charles was in the maternity ward, alphas hadn’t batted an eye at him. He was an omega afterall. He wasn’t a threat. But for this alpha he went the extra mile to wear scent patches and take some scent blocking herbs. Despite that, the alpha still complained, griping about Charles’ "rancid" scent, how it overwhelmed his senses and how Charles’ emotions were disturbing his omegas.

But it was worth it for the tiny being sleeping soundly in the next room over.

Charles could deal with all the nasty alphas, if it meant the pup and their mother were warm and safe.

Though it’s been a few hours that alpha’s pungent scent had remained in the medical hut and no matter how much Charles tried to air out the space, it pertained. And with it his inner omega was also unable to settle.

Until now that is.

That salty sea breeze scent had the unfortunate ability to make him feel better. 

Their pack was based deep into the woods, surrounded by looming mountains so Charles really shouldn’t know what the sea, nor ocean smelt like. 

But he had his adventurous grandmother to thank for that.

He had only been to the ocean once in his whole life. A mini expedition he went on with his grandmother years ago when she recounted tales of how their old pack was settled by the ocean. How his papa was a fisherman. How his maman frequently accompanied him when he went fishing even while she was pregnant. 

It was probably why Charles had always associated the scent of the ocean as home and also why it was that much more damning when Max presented and his scent resembled that of his home. 

The scent of sun-warmed seaweed, salty air, earthy sand and nostalgia. 

He should be embarrassed at how intune he was to an alpha who wasn’t even his mate and someone who would never consider courting him but he let his inner omega go a long time ago now. If there was one thing Charles learned from his grandmother, it was to never fight his instincts.

Sighing he settled down on the little chair facing the entrance of the medical hut, waiting for Max to eventually come through.

He wondered what silly excuse the alpha had this time.

It only took a few more moments before the curtains were pushed aside and in walked Max. His face shifted from an easy smile to a grimace. “It stinks in here.” 

Charles huffed but otherwise smiled at the sight of the alpha. He couldn’t help it. Max had that effect on him.

“It was a stupid overprotective alpha. It’ll pass.”

Max cringed and dutifully sat on the medical cot opposite Charles. “I hope he didn’t trouble you too much.” 

“And if he did?” Charles asked, leaning in slightly. “What would you do?”

He got the pleasure to watch on as Max swallowed hard and took a shuddering breath.

Charles also knew the kind of effect he had on Max and he was unashamed to use it. 

But before he could bask in it any longer, Max schooled his expression to one of indifference.

“I wouldn’t do anything, dare I say you signed up for this when you decided to become our pack’s healer?”

Charles rolled his eyes, the moment all but broken now. “So what can this healer help you with today?”

“I cut myself chopping wood.” Max explained as he extended his arm out for Charles to see. He had to squint his eyes to see the tiny cut on Max’s finger. 

Charles wasn’t even surprised anymore. 

This little ruse started between them a year ago when he’d gone from being just an assistant to one of the Head Healers.

Charles wouldn’t say he was naturally gifted in all things medicine like his grandmother was but what he lacked in instinct he made up for by studying endlessly.

Prior to Sebastian, the current Head Healer, his grandmother had been the pack’s only healer. Charles, who had lost his parents very young, spent most of his childhood growing up around medicinal herbs and sick werewolves.

But he hadn’t minded, not when he got to witness how grateful people were to his grandmother.

A young naive Charles saw his grandmother as a superhero. Someone who was able to take away the pain. A gentle force who could hush the cries of pups and adults alike, whose hands ushered new pups into the world with grace and wonder.

There was no doubt in his young mind what he would do in the future. He also wanted to help his pack members just like his grandmother.

And when she passed away a few years ago, his dream took on new meaning. It became a tribute, a vow whispered in silence: he would carry her legacy forward, honour her name in every life he touched.

Charles was an omega and when he eventually mated he’d take the last name of his alpha. And even if his alpha was generous enough to let Charles keep his last name, his own pups would never be Leclercs. 

Their family name, like an old song forgotten, would eventually fade from the world. Only sung by those familiar with the tune.

He tried not to think about it too often because when he did, the grief came rushing in like a storm tide and it took everything in him not to drown. 

Charles had no family left. 

He carried that loneliness like a stone in his chest, heavy and unrelenting. Most days, it was a dull ache, a quiet reminder pressing against his ribs. But there were moments when the pain flared so sharply it stole the air from his lungs. When it felt like his heart was splintering from the inside out and all he could do was hold on and try not to fall apart.

Amid the loneliness that shadowed his days, there was one thing that made life feel a little less hollow: his role within the pack. In helping others, he found fragments of purpose, moments of quiet meaning that stitched his fractured heart back together, piece by piece.

And unfortunately for his heart, another thing that made living worth it was Max.

Max, the infuriatingly handsome alpha who was only a few days older, yet carried himself with the confidence of someone born to lead and the recklessness of someone who had never tasted oppression. He was bold where Charles was quiet, the heat to Charles’ calm.

Max had been a constant in his life for as long as he could remember. When his old pack Ferrari was ransacked and burned to the ground, he and his grandmother had fled. The only survivors left after the raid. 

They had wandered from the ocean to deep into the woods where the Red Bull pack was generous enough to take them in as refugees. 

Charles had only been three then.

At first his grandmother was doing menial tasks for the Head Alpha’s family. Washing their clothes, cooking their meals and cleaning their house. It was only when his grandmother had stepped in to help with the birth of Max’s sister during a difficult labour that her talents were recognised.

She then slowly became the most respected and talented healer in the Red Bull pack. 

The Head Alpha’s family had also been kind to him. 

Whenever Sophie bought toys for her pups she’d always buy an extra one for Charles. Whenever her pups got new clothes stitched, she’d also give a new set to Charles.  Victoria, a fellow omega aways confided in him and they used to play a lot together.

And Max…

At first, Max seemed indifferent to him and Charles — being an omega, a refugee and an orphan — mistook that silence for rejection. He quietly convinced himself that Max was just like everyone else who overlooked him.

The misunderstanding didn’t last long. It had taken Max two years to eventually confess in a shy murmur that he simply hadn’t known how to approach him.

But after that it was easy. 

It was easy to wake up every morning, get ready for the day and see that Max was already waiting for him outside his hut. He had insisted on walking with Charles to school everyday.

“It’s not safe for pretty omegas to walk by themselves, Charles. I can protect you.” He’d puff out his chest and play the role of a big bad alpha not to be messed with.

Everyone knew that was just an excuse.

Everyone in the pack also knew they were inseparable. Always attached at the hip from dawn till dusk, only breaking apart when they retreated to their own huts to sleep. Max was a frequent visitor at the medical hut too where they both watched in fascination as his grandmother treated ill werewolves or when she blended herbs to create medicines that would heal many to come.

Charles hadn’t realised he didn’t have anyone other than his grandmother when Max was a constant in his life. He never crossed boundaries, just a silent friend he could always fall back on. 

It all changed of course, when Charles had his first heat at the age of sixteen. 

It wasn’t exactly a surprise when he presented as an omega. In the past, presentation was the only way to discover one’s secondary gender, but times had changed. Now, healers could determine and assign a secondary gender at birth.

So Max had always known he’d be an alpha and Charles an omega and yet—

Before Charles’ first heat, Max still made time for him. Afterwards, all he offered were excuses.

“Sorry Charles, I need to help with the hunt today.”

“Maybe later Charlie. My father has asked me to sit in on the meeting with our neighbouring pack.”

“I won't be available for a few weeks. We’re starting to build the new pack building. I need to supervise that.”

And then he just stopped giving excuses altogether. Just short, curt –

“I can’t today.”

So eventually Charles stopped asking.

He thought he was stronger but the truth is, when someone who’s been a constant presence in your life suddenly decides they want nothing to do with you, it was bound to hurt.

It felt like being rejected for a confession he’d never even had the chance to make.

It was like heartbreak without the luxury of love ever being declared. Like standing in the shadow of something beautiful that never had the chance to bloom.

Charles refused to cry about it. It was Max’s loss.

He’d been brave but eventually the tears had fallen anyway on his grandmother’s death bed when he realised he was well and truly alone now.

Those first few weeks after he lost his grandmother were truly the worst. Grief poured from every fiber of his being, a sorrow so deep it seemed endless. No matter how long he wept, the tears kept coming, as if his body couldn’t run out, as if his heart refused to let go.

Charles didn’t carry out his duties at the medical hut. How could he save lives when it felt like his own had already ended?

He spent weeks curled up inside his hut, rarely venturing out from the comfort of his nest except for the occasional nibble of food or sip of water. Just when he thought he had no more tears left to shed, the familiar scent of his grandmother began to fade from his nest, plunging him into yet another wave of sadness.

During all that time, Max hadn’t checked on him once. In his grief, Charles didn’t have the strength to dwell on it too much. He’d caught a glimpse of Max at his grandmother’s burial, then later heard vague rumors about the alpha being called away for an emergency meeting with a neighboring pack.

So Charles told himself that maybe, even if Max had wanted to be there, duty had kept him away.

Alas, they weren’t close enough anymore for Charles’ grief to be the kind of reason someone would put before duty.

But it was Victoria, who was heavily pregnant at the time,  that pulled him out.

Max’s sister was every bit as stubborn as her brother, if not more. She refused to give birth with anyone else’s help unless Charles was the one by her side. And having grown up with her, Charles knew better than to challenge her when she set her mind to something.

He had reluctantly pulled himself out of bed, bathed and gotten dressed.

Charles resolved that he could do this one thing, help Vic give birth and then retreat back to his hut to be left alone.

All those plans went out the window the moment he stepped into the medical hut and was immediately struck by the sharp scent of distress. So intense, it burned his throat. In that instant, he knew this wouldn’t be an easy birth.

The room had been heavy with tension as Vic’s screams echoed against the walls. Charles quickly brewed a tea from red raspberry leaf and chamomile, their earthy scents rising in the warm air. He pressed a damp cloth soaked in the herbal infusion to her forehead, whispering soothing words.

“These herbs will help ease the pain and relax your muscles.” He promised and encouraged her to push.

Hours later, limbs aching from crouching over Vic, sweat and grime clinging to every inch of his body, Charles heard the first cry of the pup.

He cradled little Luka to his chest, gently shushing him as he cleaned him up, tears streaming down his cheeks. Eventually, Charles handed Luka over to his mama and papa and quietly stepped out of the room.

There, in the hallway between the surgery room and the general ward, Charles broke down. He might be lonely but he wasn’t useless. 

Life went on and he regained his spirit. 

Every person he helped, every thanks and gratitude he received, fed him a little more. He finally felt like he carved a place for himself in this world.

But as always, Max had once again whirled into his life like a tornado, leaving a destruction of his carefully constructed heart.

It started innocently enough at first …

One year ago

“No heavy lifting anymore.” Charles said sternly. “Unless you want me to sneak some weakening herbs in your daily medicine that will keep you bedridden for weeks.”

The burly alpha weakly extended their hand to take the package of medicines. But Charles tutted.

“Say you agree and only then I will give you this.”

Antonio huffed but agreed. “No heavy lifting I promise. Now give this old man his medicine, little omega.”

Charles scrunched his nose at the nickname but handed over the medicine. “Next time you come in for a back pain I won't be as lenient! Don’t test me!” He yelled after the retreating alpha.

“You really do sound threatening.”

He froze at the familiar voice. Or the once familiar voice. Nowadays he rarely heard it around, let alone heard that voice address him specifically.

Charles whipped his head up to see Max in the doorway.

The sight of him made something clench within him. It’d been five years since Max had actually acknowledged him on his own and not been forced to.

“What are you doing here?” Even if Charles tried, he couldn’t hold back the sharpness in his voice.

Max was undeterred by his hostility, throwing an easy smile his way before crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorway. “Why else would one come to a healer?”

“You are hurt?” 

His heart rate picked up at the notion of Max being hurt. Despite their distance, Charles still cared for the alpha.

“Yes. I - uh was bit during the hunt.”

His mind went to the worst case scenarios. It could’ve been a bear or a rogue wolf but looking at Max, he seemed mostly fine. 

“W-what? What bit you? Where?”

Actually Max barely looked injured. But Charles hurriedly gestured for Max to sit down as he himself got up to inspect any injuries up close.

Max blushed, muttering something that Charles couldn’t catch before lowering himself into the seat.

“Um here.”

The alpha extended his arm and at first Charles was genuinely confused.

“Max, there’s nothing here?”

Maybe it was a snake bite? Small but definitely poisonous. Charles had learned early on that internal injuries were often more lethal than external ones.

“Here.” Max pointed. “Just here on my wrist.”

Charles shuffled closer, touching the alpha’s arm to bring it to eye level. He knew snake bites could be small but surely not that small where even an omega’s enhanced vision couldn’t pick up?

“A rabbit bit me.”

Charles gaped. Open mouth. Utterly shocked.

“A rabbit?” He repeated incredulously, dropping the alpha’s arm.

Max huffed. “Yes, a rabbit. It fucking hurts.”

The same alpha who had finished a hunting competition with a broken arm was hurt by a rabbit bite?

Charles didn’t question Max’s sanity or rather insanity sometimes. The alpha was practically a stranger to him nowadays so he just relented.

“Okay –” Charles nodded. “I’ll get some salve for it?”

“Was that a question? You are the healer here you know.”

Charles rolled his eyes at the sarcastic comment but went to grab some salve for the tiny cut. It was laughable. Charles hadn’t even had pups come in for such a small cut.

He handed it over to Max who just stared at Charles blinking as if his motor skills were suddenly turned off. 

“Here. You just need to apply it to the cut.” He explained, like he would for a small child.

“I’m injured. And in pain. You apply it.”

Once again Charles was thrown in for a loop. Was Max just fucking with him?

He crossed his arms, displeasure no doubt radiating out of him through his scent. “Is this a joke?”

The alpha clutched his chest as if Charles personally offended his whole family. “Surely this isn’t how you treat all your patients?”

“Max.” Charles just glared harder.

“I really am in pain Charlie.” 

And fuck.

That nickname which Max hadn’t used since they were sixteen tugged at him.

Only Max and his grandmother ever called him that.

Maybe Max really was in pain. He shouldn’t have been so dismissive.

“Sorry.” He apologised, feeling a little sheepish. “I’ll do it.” Charles offered.

Max didn’t reply but there was a satisfied smirk on his face as he let Charles do his job.

Charles went the extra mile to wrap the tiny cut in some cotton and ignored the butterflies swirling in his stomach at having the alpha so close again.

Once he finished up, he resolved that this would be the end of it. Max would once again pretend Charles didn’t exist and Charles would continue to tell himself he didn’t need anyone.

But as Max got up to leave, he threw back over his shoulder.  “I will come in again tomorrow so you can check on how it's healing!”

Present

“Chopping wood is very dangerous.” Charles conceded, already used to Max and his antics.

Max nodded gravely. “I also think I got a splinter too.”

“Oh no.” He cooed, showing the appropriate amount of sympathy. 

One year of this and Charles had no clue whatever this could all mean. Max showed up every other week with a cut, a bruise, a headache and once he even tried to convince Charles he had a fever even though it was very clear that wasn’t the case.

At the odd times that Charles wasn’t here when Max had visited, apparently the alpha had demanded that he be treated by Charles only and had asked for his schedule so he could come back.

Seb had commented on this odd behaviour many times and had even warned Charles to be careful. But —

Charles could admit that he looked forward to whenever Max visited him. Their easy banter and the way Max made him laugh never changed. And it was all too easy to fall back into it.

It didn’t matter that, at the end of the day, Max had once cast him aside and for reasons Charles still couldn’t fully understand, now wormed back into his life. He just found comfort in the familiarity of having the alpha close again so he allowed it to happen.

“There, all done.” Charles patted the bandage he wrapped around the alpha’s arm and pulled back to put away his supplies. Surprisingly there was a tiny splinter to take care of this time.

“Ah my lifesaver.” Max drawled, lazily stretching out his back, getting comfortable on the cot and not making any moves to leave.

Charles frowned.

“You are not leaving?”

This was their arrangement. Max made some stupid excuse to come see him, Charles pretended he bought into it, they had some easy chatter that bordered on being flirtatious at times and then Max would leave as soon as his “wound” was treated.

He never stuck around.

“Well, are you busy?”

Charles looked around, he wasn’t exactly busy. Other than the newborn pup and their mama, there weren’t other patients. He was going to spend the afternoon taking stock counts of their medicinal herbs. 

“I – yes? I need to do a stocktake.”

Max hopped off the cot with a spring in his step. “I can help!”

“Non – no.” Charles shook his head. “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

Because as much as Charles craved any extra time he could get with Max, he knew his place. 

While Max never exclusively confirmed the reason for the sudden distance he put between them, Charles had lived enough to read between the lines. 

Max was a future Head Alpha, Charles was a mere omega that didn’t belong to any affluent family. He was an orphan and his origins were questionable. 

When Max had his first rut, things became serious for him. His future wasn’t to be taken lightly. Max couldn’t be seen with Charles anymore. He had a reputation to build, respect to earn and fear to invoke in their enemy packs. 

Charles had come to terms with that, he was used to losing people anyway. 

“I insist. Plus with my help you can finish earlier and finally join us for pack dinners.”

“No.” Charles stiffened up. He couldn’t help the way he backed away. The last thing he wanted was to show up at pack dinners. How could Max even suggest that? “I – I can’t. I need to do this by myself.”

“Charles…”

“You should go.” He dismissed.

“I see Max has visited you again.” 

The familiar voice of Lando floated through to the back where Charles began taking inventory of all the herbs they had. On his recent venture out into the forest he’d come across some licorice root and he knew he could use that to concoct a new medicine to help with stomach ulcers and heartburn.

Lando pulls aside the curtains separating the general ward to the little office, a disapproving frown on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Charles said, turning back to the roots he’d been counting. “Max was injured.”

“Injured.” Lando repeats mockingly.

Charles chose wisely to ignore the jab and remind his friend for the hundredth time about medical protocol and being back here where only authorised people were allowed. “You are not technically allowed back here, Lando.”

“I’m not going to touch your precious herbs!” Lando says, probably rolling his eyes at his back. “But stop changing the topic. Enough is enough. You need to tell Max to stop.”

That finally gets his attention. 

Lando had always made his displeasure known about Max’s frequent visits but he was never accusatory and never demanded him to put a stop to it forthright. 

Something must’ve happened. 

He carefully places the brahmi he’d been inspecting back in its pot, knowing he would need to crush it into powder soon before the plant dies on him, before turning to face Lando.

“I’m just doing my job.” He simply says, before licking his lips and adding the next part. “It’s no harm.”

Lando folded his hands, his eyes narrowed. “It’s definitely harming you. It’s giving you false hope!”

“It’s not.” Even as he says it, he knows it doesn’t sound convincing at all. 

“Really?” Lando prods.

Charles doesn’t like where this is going. Lando sounds too judgy like he’s condemning him. In the last year Charles hadn’t forgotten his place, he hadn’t forgotten how the alpha had cut ties with him. If anything Lando made sure to remind him everyday.

“I don’t suddenly expect Max to stop pursuing Ollie and come crawling to me, if that’s what you are worried about.” Charles says and immediately hates the way his voice cracks. 

“Then why —” Lando must’ve noticed how Charles is annoyed, because his face softens in the next second and his voice loses the accusing tone when he continues. “Then put an end to it Cha. Max is not worth it.”

Easy for Lando to say. He didn’t know the full history between them. Charles had only become close with the other omega in the last few years when Oscar had mated with him.

Lando originally came from their neighboring pack. Oscar was born there too but he and his family immigrated to Red Bull when he was just a pup.

Apparently the two childhood sweethearts never forgot each other even with the distance between the Mclaren and Red Bull packs, proven by how quickly Oscar had proposed to Lando when they both came of age.

They waited patiently until Oscar could sustain them before Lando officially made the move and the alpha didn’t waste any time before bonding them for life with a mating bite.

That was two years ago now and since then the omega had infiltrated Charles’ space and forced a friendship. 

A friendship that Charles, no matter how annoyed he looked, was now grateful for.

But Lando never witnessed how Max and Charles were once close. He never saw the decade of their careful and treasured friendship. He never experienced how much the alpha had doted on Charles. So it was understandable that Lando couldn’t fathom why Charles was letting Max weasel his way back into his life again. 

Still, the other omega had entertained Charles thus far, he just doesn’t understand what had changed.

“What happened, Lando?” He cuts to the chase.

Lando looked taken aback by the direct question, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that Charles might see his unannounced visit as anything but routine. 

“I – Osc mentioned that —” Lando hesitates, chewing on his lips a little. 

“Spill.” Charles coaxes.

“Osc was at the council meeting this morning. Head Alpha was apparently saying we need to start preparations for a mating ceremony soon.”

Oh.

Charles took a moment to understand the implications. It – surely – 

There were plenty of others courting. Sure, their Head Alpha wouldn’t be announcing preparations at council meetings for some random low ranking alpha and omega getting mated, but still the possibility was there.

Before Charles let his own thoughts run wild, he needed confirmation.

“I – maybe it’s not for Max?” He weakly supplies. 

Lando looks at him with something akin to sympathy and Charles hates it, he doesn’t want to hear the rest of whatever his friend wants to say but maybe this is the last push he needed to completely let go of Max. 

“It was for Max.” Lando confirms with a finality that brooked no argument. No what ifs, no what if Oscar had heard wrong, none of that. Just a final blow that Charles feels right down to his core.

Well. It wasn’t as if Charles hadn’t seen it coming.

Lando looks like he’s bracing himself for something. A breakdown perhaps? Charles denying the ultimate truth? Accuse Lando of lying? — Anything other than the silence.

But Charles doesn’t have much to say. Not when he knew it was a matter of time. 

So he smiles, weak and unconvincing and simply says. “Okay.”

Sebastian eventually shows up at the medical hut while Charles is in the middle of checking up on the pup.

“You finally decided to show up.” He drawls, barely glancing up as the older beta walks to his desk, four hours late. 

“You’re lucky I even showed up.”

It wasn’t like him. Sebastian was punctual to a fault. But ever since Charles had taken on a more active role in the medical hut, the beta had decided to join the council and began prioritising attending those meetings over coming here.

Charles understood though. Before Seb, they never had a voice amongst the council. Oftentimes that meant the medical hut’s supplies and needs were overlooked. 

The council had always been more focused on pack defense, border patrols and alliance politics. Healing and care were seen as secondary, important, yes, but not urgent . When it came to budgeting, the medical hut was often the last to be considered and the first to be cut. Charles could recall more than a few harsh winters when they'd had to ration basic supplies, salves watered down, bandages reused, herbs for pain relief stretched far beyond what was safe.

They’d lost pups in those winters. Lost elders. Lost werewolves who might have survived if they’d just had the proper support.

So no, Charles didn’t exactly begrudge Sebastian’s new priorities. Someone needed to be in that room, to speak up when no one else would. And if that meant Charles had to shoulder a little more of the day-to-day work alone, he could manage.

But he also loved to whine and pout, just to get the older beta to cave and coddle him. It was a game they played. Exaggerated sighs, dramatic flops onto the nearest surface and those wide, pleading eyes that Charles wielded with practiced ease.

Sebastian always huffed at him and muttered something about “ this is why you aren’t mated. ” But he’d still drape a blanket over Charles’ shoulders or sneak him one of the good pastries from the council kitchen.

“I was bombarded with patients all morning, Seb!” He began complaining. “There was a stupid alpha here, then a very difficult birth, then a nasty cut I had to take care of and then —”

“Okay okay.” Seb relented. “I get it. Do you want to take the rest of the day off then? I can handle it.”

Charles smiled, victorious. It was nice to know he still had it in him. He finishes wrapping up the small pup in a swaddle and places them back in their nest, next to their sleeping mama and sits across from Seb. 

“I’m just messing with you. Now, tell me. Did you speak to the council about getting moonfern?”

Seb sighs. Which is never a good sign. 

“They said they’d think about it.”

“What!?” Charles balks. “You explained to them how important it is no?”

“Of course I did.”

“And?” He prods.

“And they said other things need to be prioritised and not just some plants.” 

“Maybe I should just go on the hunt myself.” 

“No you will not be doing that.” Seb narrows his eyes at him. 

It wasn’t like Charles was afraid of going on hunts. He’d done them plenty of times before, just not alone.

Max, of course, was always all too happy to accompany him whenever he went foraging through the woods for some herbs. 

Back before their presentation, his grandmother often sent the both of them specifically for moonfern. 

Moonfern was a rare precious herb that had healing properties like no other. 

It was also very difficult to find. The herb is only visible at night, the light of the moon helping it glow and thus easier to find. It also had a very faint scent that only well trained senses could smell. With Charles’ enhanced vision and Max’s strong sense of smell, it was no brainer to send the two of them.

But that was also before and now in the after, Charles had to resolve to begging others to find some for him.

With the upcoming winter and their dwindling supplies it was necessary they stock up on some of this. But as always the council doesn’t listen to them. 

It was not like they had asked for a separate party to be arranged just for moonfern to be searched. The pack does their bi-weekly hunts, all Seb would have suggested is for the alphas going on the hunt to keep their eye out for some herbs. 

That probably was too much of an ask though. Charles knew these “hunts” were just competitions to see which alpha could bring back the biggest game so of course no one wanted to waste their time searching for some tiny plant.

They couldn’t even be bothered to entertain their idea it seems. 

“God those stupid pig-brained alphas!” He seethes. 

“Not all though.”

Seb is wearing a shit-eating grin on his face and it was only grating at Charles more. 

“What do you mean?”

“A certain alpha was standing up for you.”

Charles rolled his eyes. Already familiar with this particular line of teasing. 

“Does it matter? I’m sure his father dismissed Max pretty quickly.”

“Oh he did. But of course Max dramatically declares that medicinal herbs needed to be granted importance, blah blah.”

“Stupid alpha.” Charles mutters under his breath, hoping that Seb doesn’t catch on.

It seems he doesn’t because Seb continues speaking. “Everyone knows that Max is partial towards you. It’s honestly a bit embarrassing. Not to mention that Jos had just announced mating ceremony arrangements.” The beta points out. 

Max was notorious for doing this apparently. Standing up for any and all suggestions or requests Seb had. Everyone already knew that the alpha probably didn’t give a fuck but how the medical hut fared, just cared about Charles. 

As Seb put it, it was embarrassing to say the least.

“I know.” Charles admits at last. 

Seb whips his head up. “You know and you still — what the hell Charles?”

“I just found out a few minutes ago from Lando.” He defends weakly, fidgeting with the sleeves of his tunic.

Seb narrows his eyes. “Right, you just found out a few minutes ago that Max was courting another?”

“Well. No.”

“Then? I can smell him, you know. He must’ve come here straight after the council meeting. Has he no shame?!” Seb spits.

“He was hurt!” Charles defends, knowing it was likely aggravating the beta more. Everyone knew Max and his notorious “injuries.”

As expected, Seb scoffs. “Right.” 

The older beta often takes on the role as the reprimanding parent. His eyes slanted, his tone tinged with disapproval and his words patronising. The same attitude, he’s embodying right this second as he spews the next few words. 

“I don’t know what you and Max think you are doing but the longer this continues, the more you are compromising your reputation in the pack. Max is an alpha, not to mention next in line to become Head Alpha, he will move on easy. Actually he has already moved on. He must find some sick entertainment in playing with you like this. But Charles, it is you that will bear the consequences and suffer.”

Charles understood. He understood way more than others. This was his life after all. 

Many times he was not so subtly asked by his fellow pack members if Max and he were secretly courting but what could Charles even tell them? He was just as confused as the others. 

The obvious answer was no but Max’s behaviour proved otherwise. 

Charles wasn’t a saint in all of this. He had basked and welcomed the alpha’s attention, didn’t push the alpha away at all but that was before an official mating ceremony was being announced. 

Now though — now Charles will push back. 

“It means nothing Seb. Like you said, Max will be mating with Ollie soon.” He dismisses and quickly jumps up to busy himself with getting a broom and sweeping the floor.

Charles can feel Seb’s disappointed gaze following him around, but decides not to acknowledge it.

The weeks pass by normally for him. He moves mostly on autopilot.

Wake up at dawn every morning, eat a light breakfast, get dressed and leave for the medical hut. 

If he arrives earlier and leaves later than usual, no one notices or says anything.

Seb was rarely at the medical hut these days anyway. Most of his time was spent at the neighbouring packs that didn’t have proper healers. Which was a welcome reprieve. Charles didn’t need Lando and Seb both grueling him every single day. 

He tries to keep busy but there aren’t many patients so he spends more time trying to concoct medicines but even that proves discouraging after a series of failures. 

So he couldn’t really help how he lets his mind wander —

Max had been courting Ollie for years now, seemingly waiting until the omega presented before landing on his doorstep the very next day with an abundance of courting gifts that put every other alpha to shame.

Charles gets it, Ollie was smart, pretty, funny and charismatic. A bit young. But none of that mattered when the other omega carried himself with a grace and maturity that proved their age gap didn’t matter. 

All things he could be too if he tried. 

Not to be narcissistic but Charles knew he acted well above his age. Dealing with death on a regular basis does that. He needed to be smart to be a healer too. Charles also knew he was easy on the eyes. He’s been complimented on his looks more times than he could count. 

But Ollie was also Christian’s only omega son and Christian just happened to be Head Alpha’s right hand man. 

There was something to be unravelled there. A conspiracy maybe. Charles had even wondered if Max was being forced to court Ollie. Considering their ranks within the pack, no one was more suited than Ollie to become the future Head Omega, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think the council might be behind it, pressuring Max into the arrangement.

But then he saw them interact — Nothing “special.” 

Just Max bringing back the biggest game from a hunt and plopping it down right at Ollie’s feet with a big proud smile. Or how he single handedly skinned, cleaned and crafted a fur coat for Ollie, one that could battle the coldest of winters. Nevermind the multiple times Max had returned from bartering from neighbouring packs to present the finest of silks or the brightest of crystals just for the other omega. 

So yes. Nothing special. 

These were all superficial gifts in Charles’ eyes. It was in the rule book for any alpha wanting to gain favour with an omega to be over the top with their courting gifts.

To Charles, Max remembering his favourite flower and bringing it back for him when it was in bloom, or noticing Charles’ leaking roof and fixing it for him or coming with him to his grandmother’s grave every anniversary, these things were more meaningful. 

So he foolishly thought, hoped, that the alpha’s feelings for Ollie weren’t anything of concern but when others asked why Max always gravitated toward Ollie during pack dinners, why he laughed and talked with him until the whole pack cooed over the “sweet couple,” or why he occasionally showed up at the medical hut drenched in the unmistakable scent of vanilla… Charles had no answer.

He just protected himself from the truth by refusing to show up at pack dinners altogether. It wasn’t like Max noticed his absence anyway. 

Charles attempted to go through the days, pushing aside the painful tightness in his chest that gripped him with each breath he took. He knew this was an inevitability, just a matter of time before the delusion he’d been living under went away.

It wasn’t like Charles ever expected Max to court him, let alone mate him. But it was easy to fall back into a rhythm with the alpha. Go along with the flirtatious comments and ignore the elephant in the room. 

Maybe it was doomed from the start. From when they were small pups running around the pack grounds, wrecking havoc, playing pranks on others and whenever they’d get caught Max had pushed Charles forward and asked him to explain because “ Charlie, no one can ever get mad at you.”

Maybe Charles should’ve known it’d come down to this when he let Max walk all over him again. 

There was no way the alpha hadn’t known his feelings for him. Not with the way Charles had been told his scent gets sweeter just by being in Max’s presence. There’s no way Max hadn’t noticed how lenient Charles is with him. 

Max was going to the Head Alpha one day, he had honed in his senses and sharpened them until he became the strongest of them all. There was no way he couldn’t see how Charles was in love with him. 

And that was the part that hurt the most. 

Charles didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, couldn’t allow anyone to see him that vulnerable but for Max he did. From the time they were five until now, Charles showed him — quietly, consistently — just how deeply he was in love.

He showed him before he knew what being mates was, what love was. He showed him with his actions, with his eyes, with his scent — just not with his words. 

He wanted to think that maybe Max understood and didn’t reciprocate so he put distance between them. Back then Charles had sobbed in his grandmother’s arms asking why Max didn’t want to hang out with him anymore. His grandmother had just scented him and kissed his forehead before telling him the cruel realities of the worlds they lived in.

That as much as Max was his friend, the alpha could never be his mate. Not with Charles’ status. His grandmother had told Charles that it was a blessing that Max was pulling away from him now when they were still teenagers and saving him from the inevitable rejection in their adulthood. 

Charles hadn’t understood it then. But then he did. 

With every day Max ignored him, it became easier to understand.

Charles even fancied other alphas, wanting to find a mate in them. He may have always compared them to Max, but he did try his hardest to move on.

He deserved to find someone, settle down and have a family of his own. 

He just didn’t understand why Max had waltzed back into his life a year ago and just stuck. Charles didn’t want to hope but he did anyway and now — now it was all coming back to bite him in the ass and remind him why he was alone in this world.

Lost in his own thoughts Charles didn’t realise there was someone in the medical hut until the voice greeted him.

“Charles? Hello??”

He shook himself out of it and turned towards his guest. Unexpected, but one that brought a huge smile to his face. 

“Pear!” Charles all but launched himself from his seat and into Pierre’s arms, hugging his friend close. 

Pierre caught him easily, chuckling at his enthusiasm.

“I see you’ve missed me.” He commented offhandedly, the alpha’s arms coming around to hug him close too.

Charles wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Not in front of one of his childhood friends. “Of course I missed you!” 

The woodsy warm scent of his friend was a welcome relief.

“You seem to have forgotten about me.” He accuses, finally pulling back from the warmth of Pierre’s embrace. 

Pierre had left the Red Bull pack a few years ago after meeting a beautiful omega Kika from the Alpine pack. 

It was unheard of to see an alpha leave their pack for an omega, usually it was the other way around. But that’s one of the qualities Charles loved about his friend so much. Pierre refused to fit into a mold, he was loyal to a fault and would go to the ends of the Earth for the people he loved. 

Pierre saw how attached Kika was to her pack and promptly decided he would move for her. It was romantic. The sweetest gesture anyone could dream off. But it also meant his friend now lived several hours away from him.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten about you.” Pierre replies, pulling him back into another hug. “I missed you too calamar.”

They hug for a few more seconds or minutes, before a gentle clearing of the throat interrupts them.

Pierre is the first to pull away, his eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of — Max.

“Verstappen.” He greets curtly.

Max nods his head, his own eyes squinted. “Gasly. Thought we got rid of you permanently.”

There was a tense silence that passed between them before Charles decided to step up and stoke the flames before it caught fire. 

“Pierre, why don’t you wait inside my hut hm? You must be tired from the journey.”

Luckily his friend can read his warning for what it is and dutifully leaves.

Pierre and Max had always been like this. Bickering, blood sworn enemies. One would think that they had some generational feud that had them behaving like this. During their childhood there were many physical fights Charles had to break up, oftentimes the one stuck in the middle. He had also tried many times to reconcile them but then they would start posturing and hissing, so Charles let them be. 

He had more pressing issues to worry about right now anyway.

“What do you want Max?” His tone was harsh, words biting. Max’s expression immediately faltered at this. 

“I —” Charles could already see the alpha walking towards him with an exaggerated limp. “My right leg is acting up. I think I sprained my ankle.”

Charles wanted to cry. He wanted to throw something at Max. He wanted to lash out. 

Every time Max came in here, he told himself this would be the last but without a doubt the alpha showed up again. But with the news of a mating ceremony, Charles had really thought that this was the end of it. 

Yet, Max is here now. Weeks after the whole wood cutting incident. To Charles, the alpha looked the same and why wouldn’t he be? Max was the one about to mate someone, while here Charles was lamenting his first love. 

Normally, just being near Max would have filled him with quiet joy. But not today. Today, he had no patience, no energy left to spare for the alpha who had already taken so much from him.

“Sprained right .” Charles scoffed, turning away before he did something he’d regret. 

However he hadn’t quite managed to control his scent because Max was furrowing his brows in confusion as he took wobbly steps towards him. 

God, Max was really playing the part wasn’t he with this “injury.” 

“Are you okay? Did Pierre do something?” Max says, the concern in his voice is notable but it was just making Charles rage more. Because how dare!

“You need to stop Max.” Charles seethed and finally the dam had burst. “What do you actually want?! Are you forgetting you are courting another omega? Showing up here every other week is inappropriate and no matter how innocent you think your actions are, the other pack members will start to notice.”

Max seemed perplexed for a second. Staring wide eyed at him. 

After a tense second the alpha sighs. “I’m sorry – I will — leave.”

Was it that simple? Charles just tells Max to leave and he does? No fighting back, no explanations just – acceptance. 

He tries not to be disappointed with the outcome. Tries not to think too much about how easily Max can let him go once again. Thrown aside, like he means nothing.

A familiar sting starts to burn his eyes but he shoves it aside to grab the herbs he’d been testing. 

But then he hears it — a barely suppressed wince. He looks up instinctively to see Max still limping?

Could he have really —

Charles reluctantly gets up from his seat to inspect Max closer and — he sighs.

“Wait.” Charles calls stopping Max in his tracks. He gestures Max to the closest chair and shuffles his own towards the alpha and gently grabs his leg. Charles rucks his pants out of the way to confirm his suspicions. 

Of course this is the one time Max is actually injured.

The alpha’s ankle looks painfully red and swollen but nothing seems deformed. 

He gently presses on the swollen area, applying just enough pressure to gauge Max's reaction. The alpha flinches with a slight wince, but nothing more so Charles figures it’s likely not broken. A small relief, at least.

“Nothing seems broken. I will apply some cooling oil for the swelling.” Charles is already rummaging through the drawer to find some peppermint oil he always has on hand. “I can give you some salve for application later.” He finally looks up to see Max already looking at him. His expression unreadable. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” Maybe Charles had underestimated the pain. “I can give you something else —”

Max shakes his head. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“What did you even do?” He asks it casually, more to keep the air between them from falling into silence than out of real curiosity. Anything to keep the weight of Max’s gaze from settling too long on him, from making him feel like his skin was too tight.

“Just helping Ollie with —” Max trails off, then glances up at Charles with a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

Right. So much for having a damn conversation.

“Anyway, it’s the first full moon soon.” Max not so subtly tries to shift the topic. 

“I’m aware.”

“It’ll be easier to find moonfern then.” 

That makes Charles pause. He looks up from Max’s ankle, meeting his eyes properly for the first time in minutes. He should be used to this by now. The way Max remembers small things, the way he drops them into conversation like it didn’t just undo weeks of distance with a few careless words.

Charles doesn’t know whether to feel touched that Max remembered, or heartbroken that it still means nothing. That he keeps pulling on these old strings, keeps walking that delicate line between caring and staying distant. In the end, Charles chooses to lie.

“It is not urgent.”

“That’s not what Seb said.”

Charles doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he focuses on the task at hand, cradling Max’s ankle gently in his hands. His touch is clinical, but careful. The oil glistens faintly under the lantern light as he rubs it into the bruised skin with slow, practiced motions.

“Yeah well Seb doesn’t do the inventory, I do. And I say we have other alternatives.” 

Max’s leg tenses slightly under his touch, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You used to get excited about moonfern hunts.” Max says quietly.

Charles doesn’t look up. “That was before.”

“Before what?”

The question hangs in the air like mist. Unwelcome, heavy and far too late.

Charles gives a soft, humorless laugh. “Before I learned better.”

There’s silence again. Not awkward, but charged. Like something is pressing to be said, but both of them are too cowardly to speak it aloud.

Max’s voice is softer when he speaks next. “You know I didn’t mean to—”

Charles cuts him off, not harshly, just tired. “Don’t.”

Max swallows whatever he was going to say and Charles finishes wrapping the ankle in silence. When it’s time to finally let go, Charles lets his fingers linger for half a second too long.

He’s not sure why he does it.

Charles rushes through pouring a small dosage of the oil into a vial and shoving it into Max’s hands. “Apply that twice daily and try not to put pressure on your right foot. If the pain persists, come back in two days.”

It was very clinical, he recited practiced words he’s probably told hundreds of times. From this point onwards that was what Max should be to him anyways — a patient.

“You don’t usually work then.” Max points out, not even ashamed that he has Charles’ schedule memorised.

“No but Esteban will be here to help.”

Max scrunches his face up. “No thanks. I’d rather suffer.”

Charles can’t help the involuntary smile that pulls at his cheeks. Seeing the alpha looking way too delighted at getting a reaction from him, Charles frowns again.

“Too bad.” 

“I could come back tomorrow?” Max offers.

Charles really can’t anymore. He can be a healer and do his job but anything beyond that, Max has lost all those privileges. It hurts too much now, with everything at stake.

He takes a shaky breath then says — “Please don’t.” There was desperation in his voice. Charles wasn’t above begging to protect his heart anymore. “Just don’t Max.”

Max looks just as stricken as he feels. His scent turning into something sour and unpleasant. But Charles doesn’t understand. This is what Max chose. 

The alpha had chosen years ago to cut their friendship, then chose to reconcile a year ago but then also chose Ollie to court.

Why should Charles be punished for Max’s choices any longer? He refuses to. Not anymore.

“If that’s all, Pierre is waiting for me.” 

The dismissal was clear, yet the alpha lingers, as if hoping Charles might reconsider. But Max must recognise how resolute he is, as he eventually sighs and rises from the cot.

“I wish it were different Charles.” He mumbles, before finally leaving. 

Maybe leaving for good this time. 

Chapter Text

Charles wraps up at the medical hut and makes the small trek back to his house. 

He’s immediately met with the sight of his friend tucked in a nest Charles had made in front of the fireplace before he’d left this morning.

Pierre had gone the extra mile and lit the fire too.

“You made yourself comfortable I see.” He comments.

“You make the best nests Charlot!” Pierre replies happily. “Other than Kika of course.”

“Of course.” Charles chuckles. He eyes the snacks and drinks Pierre had set up and eagerly wanted to change out of his outside clothes and join his friend. “Stop eating and leave some for me. I’m going to freshen up quickly.”

His whole hut was bathed in the warm glow of the fire, blankets piled on the floor, his dear friend in the middle of it all chatting away about his life at the Alpine pack. 

When he finally cuddled up to Pierre, Charles realised just how much he needed this. The warm comfort of a friend, away from his job and away from a certain alpha .

They traded pleasantries back and forth before Charles asked the question. 

“So what made you suddenly visit me?”

Pierre, expectedly, sputters. “Do I need a reason to visit a friend?” He asks with mock offense. 

Charles laughs at his friend’s dramatics but just stares until Pierre finally relents. 

“Kika is pregnant.” The statement takes approximately two seconds to land before Charles screeches. 

“WHAT!? YOU TELL ME THIS NOW!?” He accuses but throws himself into his friend’s arms.

Pierre laughs, jovial and full of happiness.

He pulls back to take in the radiance of his friend, a father to be and he couldn’t help match Pierre’s wide smile.

“I’m so happy for you Pierre.” He says softly. 

The genuine happiness in his friend’s scent, settles something in Charles too. 

“Thank you Charlot.”

“How far along? When did you find out? Is she okay? Are you taking her to regular check –”

“Slow down.” Pierre cuts him off. “They say give or take six weeks, we found out a week ago only when Kika missed her heat. Kika and pup both look well.” He dutifully answered. 

Charles smiles and begins reminiscing about how far his friend has come now.

Growing up Charles had witnessed Pierre be an absolute clumsy wreck. The alpha, only a few years older, was as rowdy as they came and oftentimes ended up at the medical hut with a broken bone or twisted ankle and many more.

That was how they had first met. 

“Non! You are wrong.” Charles says, pushing away Max’s hand.

The other pup pouts and glares at Charles. “Always you have to be right. Why can’t we do it my way?” 

“Because you will make it look ugly.” Charles rolls his eyes. 

They were building a blanket fort in the middle of the medical hut. A luxury that they don’t often get to have with Charles’ home being too small and Max’s father always scowling at them for doing it at their house. But today Charles’ grandmother let them use the general ward. 

It was nice and spacious. Had many beds and pillows they could use. Although they were warned to wash up any blankets and pillows they used which was an easy arrangement.

“No! You are ugly.” Max teases, sticking his tongue out at him.

“How dare you!” Charles grabs the nearest object, being a pillow and flings it at Max hitting him square on the head.

Before Max can retaliate, Charles jumps up and runs to hide behind a cot. 

“Not fair!” Max huffs.

Charles laughs. “Go cry about it then!” 

Max suddenly launches himself across the bed and Charles squeaks trying to hurry away when a sudden influx of people bombard into the medical hut.

“M’am!” 

“Madam Leclerc!”

“We need help!”

All the voices overlapped in a chaotic tangle, while in the background, a soft, persistent sniffling came from a pup nestled quietly in the arms of the older alpha.

His grandmother appears in the doorway, worry etched across her features.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“It’s my son.” Ms Gasly speaks up. “We think he was trying to shift and he broke a few bones.”

Charles and Max both quickly dismantle the small fort they’d built so the others could crowd around. They go to stand in a corner, quietly observing. 

“Here, lay him down.” His grandmother gestures to an empty cot. “Charlie please fetch me some willow bark poultice and the lavender oil.”

Charles jumps into action, eager to help in any way he could.

“How old is he?” His grandmother asks, feeling around the pup’s fragile limbs with expert care, gently pressing along to check for swelling, her fingers pausing at joints that felt tender, carefully avoiding the obvious places where bones were protruding oddly.

“Just two and ten.” The alpha, who must be the pup’s father, replies.

“Oh my!” His grandmother turned back to the boy who was now crying. “It’s okay dear.” She hushes him. “It’s just a small fix. You will be all okay.” 

Charles returns with the things his grandmother had asked for and places them to the side. He and Max exchange a bewildered look. Trying to attempt to shift this young was unheard of, no wonder the boy was writhing in pain. 

“Will he really be okay? I’ve heard that this kind of attempt could lead to permanent injuries.” Ms Gasly asks, clearly shaken. 

“With proper treatment he should be all good.” His grandmother reassures. 

“What’s your name, little one?” His grandmother asks as she begins to apply the thick, herbal poultice to the bruised areas, peppermint and arnica, meant to ease inflammation. 

“M not little. It’s Pierre.” The pup sniffles.

Charles understands exactly what his grandmother is doing, her voice soft and steady as she weaves a light conversation, trying to keep Pierre’s mind distracted from something other than the pain.

“It’s very brave to try to shift so early Pierre.” She says, while reaching for some more poultice to rub against Pierre’s ribs. 

“Brave?” Pierre’s mother pipes up. “More like stupid!”

Pierre averts his eyes, probably sensing a long reprimand to come from his parents soon.

Meanwhile Max nudges him to get his attention. “Can you believe? He’s older than us and so dumb.” He snickers.

Charles, not so subtly, elbows him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Shh. You shouldn’t laugh at those who are hurt.”

Max rolls his eyes. “Of course you would say that.”

They both watch silently from the corner, Max beside him making snarky comments every now and then.

Pierre lets out a tiny whimper as the poultice touches a particularly tender spot. His grandmother coos at him softly. “I know, mon trésor, I know. Just a bit more and we’ll wrap it up, alright? You’re doing so well.”

“Madam Leclerc, you have no idea how much trouble he causes. Always getting into fights with the older kids or playing silly pranks. I kept telling him he was going to get hurt and now look!” Pierre’s father says disapprovingly. 

Pierre just grumbles something under his breath but otherwise chooses wisely to not speak up. His grandmother on the other hand chuckles. “Ah you cannot condemn pups for trying. This is how they learn and we as adults just need to be a guiding support for when they fall, ready to catch. But this one has learnt his lesson, haven't you?” She tuts at Pierre who nods in response. 

“I’m sorry mama and papa.” Pierre mumbles, looking remorseful.

Pierre’s mama leans down to brush some of his hair back and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay baby.”

Charles can’t help the way something twinges painfully in his chest at the display. The unconditional easy love between parents and their kids, something he would never get to experience. 

Before he actually starts tearing up, Max nudges him again. “I look stronger than him, maybe I can try.”

Charles shakes the thoughts away and turns to Max. “Try what?”

“Shifting, of course.”

Max, who was barely nine, wanted to try shifting?

Charles swats at his chest, rather roughly. “Stop being silly!”

“But –” Before Max could argue much, luckily his grandmother called for him.

“Charlie dear, pass me the splint. The shorter one. And please hold his arm while I wrap it.” 

With his help steadying Pierre’s arm, she carefully wraps it in the wooden splint, binding it with resin-soaked cloth that would harden into a temporary cast.

“There, all done.” She pats the wrapped arm affectionately before tending to the smaller cuts and scrapes scattered across his limbs. Her hands work with the kind of familiarity that only comes from years of tending to reckless pups.

“Just the one break in his right arm.” She advises, dabbing at his elbow. “And a sprain in his left ankle and bruised ribs. But otherwise, he’s a strong little thing. He’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you Madam Leclerc.” Pierre’s mother says. 

“Of course. I’ll keep him here overnight just in case but he should be able to come home tomorrow.”

Charles, who had still been carefully cradling Pierre’s injured arm, slowly sets it down onto the soft blankets. “My grandmother is very powerful.” He says with quiet confidence, offering a small smile. “You’ll be just fine. I'll help Mamie take care of you! ”

Pierre’s mother ruffles Charles’ hair with a warm smile. “Thank you dear.” She then turns to Pierre. “I’ll go fetch some clean clothes and something warm to eat. Will you be okay here?”

The other boy nods enthusiastically, eyes twinkling. “As long as I have my pretty friend taking care of me, I’ll be just fine mama!”

Charles averts his eyes as he feels a warm flush on his cheeks from the unexpected compliment. 

A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbles from the corner of the room, one that had gone mostly unnoticed by the others. But Charles’ grandmother hears it clearly and though she says nothing, a knowing smile curls at the corners of her lips.

They both bask in the coziness of the moment before Charles breaks the quiet that had settled between them. 

“Pear, do you remember when we first met?” 

Pierre immediately snorts. “Yes! I was such an idiot.”

“You were! Max and I were so worried for you. And when your mama told us what you’ve been getting up to! That was so reckless!”

While Charles continues laughing at the memory of a horrified Ms Gasly, his grandmother trying her best to keep a screaming Pierre under control and Max snickering in the background, Pierre just stops and stares at him. 

“What?” He asks, wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. 

Pierre raises an eyebrow at him. “Max? Worried for me?” 

Charles frowns. “Yes?”

Pierre guffaws loudly, his whole chest shaking with laughter. “Oh you actually think —” His friend laughs some more. “Oh Charlot!”

“What!?” Charles twists around to look at the pure amusement etched across his friend's face. “What the hell is so funny!?”

“Charles, Max was not worried for me. He literally stepped on my sprained ankle.” Pierre deadpanned.

“That was an accident!” Charles retorts.

“He fed me the wrong medicine! I had rashes for two whole weeks.” Pierre counters. 

“To be fair the two vials did look the same.”

Pierre rolls his eyes so dramatically that Charles briefly wonders if they might get stuck that way. “He fucking dropped hot oil on my broken arm!” 

Charles opens his mouth, then closes. He really didn’t have a defense for that.

“Not to mention how he ripped my clothes and ate the food my mama had brought me and —”

“Okay! I get it! He was mean to you.”

“Not just mean, he was the fucking devil! He showed me hell for the whole night I was there and all because I called you pretty!” 

Charles flushes a deep red. 

At the time it hadn’t made much sense but in the quiet moments since Charles had often turned it over in his mind, trying to pinpoint the start of the strange animosity between Pierre and Max and it really did lead back to that single, mindless compliment.

“He’s  just protective.” Charles says meekly.

“He's a possessive prick.” Pierre spits. “Don’t know what the fuck he’s doing now with all the —” 

Charles sighs. Not Pierre too.

All the people around him were already grilling him about Max, he didn’t need to hear anymore for his friend too.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Charles asks and veers the conversation away from Max.

Despite his warnings, Max shows up at the medical hut the very next day.

Charles was in the middle of wrapping a bandage around a small pup’s hand when the cloying scent of vanilla hit him. It was so overpoweringly sweet that Max’s usual sea breeze was completely drowned out.

The audacity of this alpha to walk in here drenched in Ollie’s scent —

He ignores Max, hoping his displeasure can be felt without any words exchanged and focuses on the little girl in front of him.

“There we go little one and now for the secret medicine —” Charles lifts the girl’s arm to his lips to plant a tiny kiss on the cotton he’d wrapped. 

She giggles. “Thank you Charles!”

Charles watches her go with a fond smile on his face, when his attention is once again stolen by the alpha blocking the entrance.

“I thought I said you didn't need a checkup until tomorrow.” Charles says bluntly, not wasting any words.

Max doesn’t seem to mind the hostility as he walks in. “I ran out of the oil you gave me.” 

Of course. Another silly excuse.

“I gave you enough to last a few weeks.”

“Yeah well. I dropped some.” Max shrugs.

Charles grits his teeth. He quickly opens the draw to find some of that oil and send Max his way but —

“Shit.” He mutters to himself. The container was empty.

Now that he remembered he had added peppermint bark to his list of things to stock up on. Still, he’s confident there’s a substitute stashed somewhere in the back.

“Stay here. I’ll need to get some from the back.”

He walks off hoping Max would just follow instructions but apparently the alpha was incapable to do just that, as he trails after Charles instead. 

Charles whirls around – “What did I tell you?” He hisses.

Max, caught off guard, raises his hands in surrender.  “Sorry, I just wanted to keep you company.”

“Your company is the last thing I need.”

“You used to love my company Charlie .” Max says sweetly. 

“Yep used to .” He emphasises. Then thinks what the actual fuck was wrong with Max? How dare he keep coming back even after everything that transpired just yesterday?

“Charles —”

“ Non.” Charles cuts Max off. “Shouldn’t you be busy with the mating ceremony preparations?” He asks instead. 

Max looks startled by the question. 

Honestly, Charles was a bit startled himself. 

Max and Charles had taken to pretending that the world beyond the little medical hut hadn’t existed. Charles doesn’t mention the vanilla that clung to Max nor does he mention that he heard yet another rumour that the alpha had gifted Ollie a beautiful necklace the other day. 

But after the encounter yesterday, Charles couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

The alpha looked reasonably perplexed by Charles’ bluntness, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times before he finally spoke, his voice softer and uncertain. “It’s – who did you hear it from?

“Who?” Charles repeats mockingly. “I don’t know, Lando, Seb, the whole fucking pack knows.”

Max sighs. “My father is really pushing for it. Says we’ve been courting long enough.”

Charles says mostly to himself and tries to mask the hurt behind his words. “It’s really happening.”

Max shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Charles’ gaze. “Yeah. It’s… expected of me. You know how it is.”

“Expected.” Charles repeated quietly, voice tight. “Like you had no choice.”

Max shrugged, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I’ve never had a choice.”

Charles’ jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, fight, shake some sense into the alpha. 

If Max, the future Head Alpha, was out here saying he had no choice then what of the rest of them? 

“No. You do have a choice but you are too cowardly to make it.” Charles snapped.

Max flinched like Charles had struck him.

But Charles paid him no mind as he pulled the small bottle of nirgundi oil from the shelf. His hands shook just slightly as he shoved it into Max’s chest.

“That should last you a month.” He said flatly. “Try not to drop any this time.”

Max stared down at the vial, turning it over in his hands like it might offer an answer. For a moment, Charles dared to hope he’d walk away without pushing further. But of course he didn’t.

“You really think it’s that simple?” Max finally asked.

Charles met his eyes. “Yes. I do.”

A bitter laugh escaped Max’s throat, sharp and humorless. “Maybe that’s because you have nothing to lose.” 

That sentence landed like a dagger to his chest. Charles froze, the words tearing into something soft and fragile inside him. For a second, all he could do was stare at Max, trying to take a few stuttering breaths in.

Max looked panicked, as if he also couldn’t believe he’d just said those words. He keeps speaking but Charles doesn’t hear any of it.

“ Charlie, fuck — I didn’t mean it —”

The same words he’d heard a hundred different times, in a hundred different ways. It wasn’t always said meanly, sometimes it was —

“You are so lucky you don’t have a curfew! My mother always cracks a fit when I come home late.”

That was because Charles didn’t have anyone waiting at home for him anymore.

“I wish I could decorate my hut like yours. Everytime I try to change something, my sister gets so pissy.”

Well that was because Charles didn’t live with anyone anymore. 

Whereas sometimes it was mean.

“We can tell you grew up without parents. No one taught you any manners!”

When all he’d done was stand up to a bunch of elders who were teasing a young omega about eating “too much.”

The implications that he didn’t have anything to lose because he didn’t have anything to begin with.

So yes. Charles had heard it all, from all ages and all genders. Insults and thinly-veiled compliments that were also just insults. 

But he’d never thought, the one person that mattered to him more than most, would say it. 

It was cruel. 

Max was cruel.

The alpha was still talking — still looked about two seconds from crumbling. But what was said was said. 

Charles understood loud and clear.

“It just came out. I didn’t mean any of it! Charles — please —”

“You should leave.” Charles cuts him off. “And I mean it this time.” He says with a finality, a broken voice and shattered heart. 

Max might as well have told him he hated him and that would’ve hurt less. 

“Winter is coming earlier this year. Probably sensing your foul mood and matching it. It smells like burnt cherries here. Are you in pre-heat?” Lando asks, as a way of greeting, making his way inside.

Charles was hunched over the burner, melting some beeswax to add to other oils and herbs.  

“Max was here earlier.” It doesn’t really answer the question but it was enough.

“Of course he was. So another stress heat.” Lando states, more than asks. 

Charles doesn’t look up, focused on his task. “I took something for it. It shouldn’t last.”

Lando sighs. “How many of these have you had already?”

Charles doesn’t reply, the answer would probably be too many. At his silence, Lando continues on.

“But that doesn’t add up. Normally you would smell like ripe cherries and spring days and all the sweet things.” Lando pauses, like it finally clicks. “He said something, didn't he?”

The other omega pauses next to him where Charles was stirring harder than necessary, jaw clenched, the spoon scraping against the metal sides, the loud clanging noise echoing around the hut.

Lando glances down into the pot and then at Charles. “You’re going to break your wrist at this rate.”

“It won’t fucking melt!” Charles finally says. 

He stirs more aggressively, using both hands. Why wouldn’t it just fucking melt? Why couldn’t anything go his way? Why? Why? Why?

“Charles, stop!” Lando weasels the spoon from his hands. “You haven’t even got the burner on!” 

Charles pauses, chest heaving as he stares at the unlit flame beneath the pot, the frustration boiling inside him, only enhanced by the general feeling of uselessness.

He blinks once, then twice and lets out a sharp, bitter laugh that catches in his throat.

"Of course I forgot something as basic as that."

Lando softens, setting the spoon aside. “Look at me.”

Charles reluctantly does, knowing his cheeks are blotchy, his nose tinged pink and his eyes rimmed red. Dead giveaway that he’d been crying. 

He doesn’t bother hiding it anymore. 

“Cha.” Lando gasped. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing.” Charles replied, rather pathetically because something did happen. 

“I keep telling you to not let Max in and now see! How many times will you cry over him?!” Lando chides, his brows furrowed and anger radiating from him in waves. But he still motions for Charles to sit down and takes his spot in front of the burner. “You have to retaliate.”

“Retaliate?” Charles asks, wiping the remainder of his tears away. 

“Make him jealous, make him grovel! Make him beg!” 

Charles can’t help but genuinely smile at that. 

Lando was a man for the dramatics and it was at these moments, in between his own self-deprecating thoughts that he appreciated the other omega had befriended him.

“Grovel and beg for what exactly?”

“Your attention of course.” Lando says wisely, lighting up the stove to actually melt the wax this time. “Which you will not give him. Which will make him desperate and see what he missed out on!”

“I’m not sure Lando…” Charles looks away. He wasn’t into playing these games, or whatever it was Lando is suggesting. It was not like he could make Max jealous and Max would suddenly realise he’d been in love with him all along.

“No it’s perfect! He’s been flaunting Ollie around so let’s get you an alpha to flaunt around too.”

Charles didn’t really have the heart to tell Lando how terrible this idea was and how, faking a relationship with alpha would probably make him feel worse than better. 

Because the crux of his grief wasn’t just Max courting Ollie. It was deeper, more painful. It was the slow, inevitable feeling that Max, the person who still didn’t make him feel lonely, was slipping through his fingers, retreating to a place Charles could no longer follow. 

Every visit felt more like goodbye. Every exchange riddled with so many unsaid words. Every glance, moment, touch — Charles felt like he needed to bottle it up and hold it in his memories in case it was the last. 

Trying to make Max jealous or finding someone new wouldn’t fix that. It wouldn’t undo the ache that came from watching someone you love drift away.

Charles watches on as Lando precariously stirs the wax, it’s a simple task, one requiring no skill but he could see the wax splashing dangerously close to the rim of the pot. He’s stirring in random directions, not in a smooth motion. 

“Lando.” Charles mutters, eye twitching slightly. “You’re going to aerate it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll trap bubbles in it and then the balm won’t set properly. It’ll crack or separate or just… go weird.”

Lando frowns, glancing at the pot like it personally offended him. “It’s just stirring. Why does it need to be so complicated?”

“Because it’s not soup, it’s medicine.” Charles deadpans.

The other omega sighs but follows along as Charles instructs. Telling him to keep stirring clockwise and to not stop lest the bottom sticks. 

“Okay I got the hang of it, so returning back to my earlier suggestion —” He trails off and lets Charles fill in the blanks.

Charles goes back to his chair, keeping a watchful eye on Lando. 

He doesn’t need to resort to any of this. Max didn’t deserve the time of the day anymore, not when the alpha had resorted to cruelty now. 

That wasn’t the Max he knew, that wasn’t his childhood friend. That was someone else entirely, fit to lead a pack and someone that wasn’t worth fighting for. 

“I’m not doing it. I don’t recognise him anymore.” 

Lando gives him a sympathetic smile, one that would usually set Charles off more but right now he was just tired.

That very next night Pierre convinces him to go to the pack dinner with him. Saying how he wants to catch up with others and because the race would be on.

Charles tries to argue, tells his friend he was tired from a long day at the medical hut, then complains he has to clean his home and do laundry. But then Pierre tells him he’d stay and help, which as much as it was a kind gesture, Charles couldn’t deny his friend getting to bond with his old packmates again. 

So he reluctantly agrees and takes a few more heat suppressants just in case. 

Charles not only hated pack dinners but he specifically hated when a race was on.

Racing was unfortunately not as simple as it sounded. The alphas willing to participate shifted into their true wolf form and tore through a stretch of land, all competing to cross the finish line first.

It was a long tradition standing amongst packs that was more for individual glory than for anything practical. 

As if these alphas needed their ego to be anymore inflated. 

But for Charles he particularly hated these races because it meant injuries. 

The race wasn’t just about speed. That would’ve been too simple. No, this was about aggression. Alphas clawed at each other mid-run, snapped jaws at their competition, tripped them up, shoved them into trees. Anything to slow the others down.

It was messy. Dangerous.

It was in their nature to always seek companionship, to be in packs. They thrived better as a group than alone. This was proven again and again when they come across lone wolves, those without packs and how they’ve gone rogue and feral. 

But seeing how these alphas, who on any other day would boast about brotherhood and loyalty, stab each other in the back for a small shot at glory, Charles questioned whether their ancestors were wrong about this theory.

Maybe packs were just another excuse to justify power and control. Maybe those lone wolves were just grieving a loss so profound they did not keep their grip on reason and instinct. 

Still Charles never complained. His job was to heal. 

And so when Charles was always left cleaning up the aftermath with various alphas stumbling their way into his medical hut with dislocated joints, broken ribs and deep gashes, he just did his job.

What Charles couldn’t understand was how these alphas, after enduring the brutality and injuries of one season, still chose to sign up for the next without hesitation.

Sure it meant gaining recognition from the Head Alpha and even the pack elders. It also meant until the next race crowned another winner, they were lauded and praised by many. 

“You want to race?” Charles asks, trying to delay getting ready.

Pierre cringes. “Fuck no. I have my omega now. I don’t need to do these things anymore.”

Charles rolls his eyes. That was another stupid tradition that was invented. Apparently it was the highest honour for omegas to be dedicated these victories by alphas. Made only better if the alpha proposes straightaway. 

Pierre was one such alpha who after losing many years had finally won the race three years ago, dedicated his victory to Kika and promptly asked to court her. 

Charles doubts Pierre proposing while limping towards her with blood dripping down the side of his face was romantic at all. But who was he to judge? 

At least his friend was rational enough to not participate in these anymore. Some alphas continue to enrol every year because of “adrenaline,” or whatever the fuck. Charles wouldn’t know, omegas were of course too delicate to participate.

“We need to leave! I don’t want to miss the start.” Pierre calls out, from the other side of the door.

Charles had been in this bathtub so long that the water had gone cold and his fingers were pruned. 

He doesn’t want to go but he also doesn’t want to stay in his too silent hut any longer than he has to. 

“Five more minutes!” He calls back and decides that stewing in his thoughts was much worse than spending some time with his pack. 

Worst case, he’d just third wheel Lando and Oscar while Pierre catches up with his family. 

Making up his mind, he quickly dries and dresses himself. Not bothering to tame his curls much and just finger combing through them.

“You cannot be wearing that!” Pierre shrieks when Charles finally comes out. His friend’s eyes are wide in mock horror as he takes in the worn beige tunic, light fur coat and woolen trousers he’d chosen to wear.

Charles also looked down at his outfit, it wasn’t fashionable, sure but it was comfortable. “What’s wrong with this?”

Pierre blinks. “You look homeless. Is that a stain –? God, it’s like you are actively trying to keep alphas away from you. Look —” His friend rummages through the bag he’d brought with him, pulling out a beautiful silk red tunic. “How about this?”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Where did you get this?”

“Just somewhere.” He waves his hands around, as if it’s unimportant information. “Red is totally your colour.”

Ah.

Charles glares at Pierre. “Lando put you up to this didn’t he? 

“How did you —”

Charles cuts him off. “Next time at least try to sound natural. You sounded just like Lando and I’m not wearing that.”

“But Cha —”

He doesn’t wait to hear the rest of it, walking away and calling behind his shoulder. “Sunset is any minute now! You will miss the start.”

Charles hears Pierre swearing behind him and rushing out.

Satisfied with one friend, Charles resolves he’ll deal with the other one soon enough. 

They arrive at the pack border where today’s dinner would take place. 

The place is already crowded with pack members gathered around the bonfires. Young pups dart between their parents’ legs, their laughter echoing through the clearing, while elders were perched on benches, their eyes sharp and watchful, eager to gossip.

There is also the smell of meat and soup wafting through the air, carried by the frigid breeze and curling around the crowd. It blends with the smoke from the bonfires, the natural scent of the woods and the familiar musk of all their combined scents.

It was overwhelming to say the least. 

Charles separates with Pierre once they arrive with a promise to meet later so his friend can spend time with his own family 

He finds Seb, Lando and Oscar in the corner and immediately beelines towards them before he runs into anyone, namely one specific alpha.

Their largest community hall sat nestled in a wide clearing near the border of the territory. They would eventually venture there to have dinner together after the race. 

This was the ideal location for hosting the race. The area in front had been carved into somewhat of a track. A narrow path winding through trees, with branches and uneven roots intentionally left untouched to keep the race challenging. 

It wasn’t just about speed but general awareness was just as important. The rough terrain alone had taken down seasoned alphas in the past. 

The track disappeared into the darkness of the woods, far beyond what their enhanced eyesight could see. Again, a deliberate attempt to keep the race as difficult as possible. Because again, it would be too easy to have these races where sunlight could guide the alphas along.

Charles hated every bit of this tradition and often thanked that none of his close friends had actively seeked to participate in this anymore. 

Those few years where he had to watch Pierre do this was enough for him.

He joins the trio, catching Seb right in the middle of one of his rants. 

“ — just don’t understand why they won’t let betas race. I bet I could easily outrun any of these alphas.” 

Oscar has one arm lazily slung around Lando’s waist, while the omega leaned into his mate. Both share a pointed glance at Seb’s words. Having a silent conversation that no one else was privy to.

“And I’m not patching you up when those alphas break a few of your bones.” Charles says as he joins them.

“Ah but that’s where you are wrong. The key is to be so fast that no alphas reach me at all.” Seb counters easily.

“Cha! You are not wearing —” Lando cuts himself off, looking caught out that he’d just revealed it was indeed him that had put Pierre up to it.

“It’s not so easy to fool me, Lando. You’re lucky Oscar is here or else I would be giving you a long lecture about meddling in my business again. ”

Lando huffs and grumbles to Oscar, who just looks fondly down at the other omega and it’s all so disgustingly cute that Charles turns away to focus on Seb. 

“You know I was very surprised you asked for the evening off. Didn’t expect you to be here.” Seb says .

Normally on race days, he’d be tucked away in the medical hut waiting for the inevitable influx of injured wolves. But today, especially after the conversation in the morning and with pre-heat symptoms still simmering under his skin, being near blood and bones was the last thing he wanted.

Luckily Seb didn’t mind his last minute change in mind. Charles rarely asked for time off.

“I was planning a quiet evening but Pierre happened.” He replies.

Seb makes a small “ah,” because the beta knew his friend and his antics having seen them grow up together.

“Well we should get comfortable, it’ll be a long one.” Seb comments, gesturing to a patch of grass that was currently unoccupied. 

They all make their way over and settle down, when Lando asks. “Long one?” 

Shit. Charles had completely forgotten about this too.

“Oh yes! You haven’t seen these ones before, have you?” Seb gets an excited glint in his eyes at finding a newbie to dump all his racecraft knowledge on to. “See, every five years we host an extra long race. The alphas will go beyond the pack border!” 

Lando gasps. “But that’s —”

“Dangerous.” Oscar finishes his sentence. 

“Not just dangerous. Deadly.” Seb pipes up. “This close to a full moon, the rogue wolves will be out for blood.”

There wouldn’t just be rogue wolves but also wild animals. Bears, boars and even mountain cats lurking in the shadows.

Charles doesn’t get how Seb could be so excited for this. The man was supposed to be a healer so really shouldn’t be taking much joy in witnessing this. “Don’t sound too excited, Seb. Remember what happened last time?” 

“What happened last time?” Lando asks.

“Oh um. Someone died.” Seb says, casually, as if reporting the weather and not losing one of their pack members to this stupidity. 

Lando looks appropriately horrified, narrowing his eyes at Oscar. “You never participated in this have you?”

“Of course not. I have a brain.”

“Good.” Lando smiles and leans in to kiss Oscar. 

“You just don’t get it! This is in our blood. The adrenaline, the game between life and death, the —”

“Seb please.” Charles cuts him off. “We don’t need to hear how you are a masochist.”

They all laugh and ignore Seb as he mutters something about, “not embracing their true nature blah blah.”

Charles is laughing genuinely for the first time that day. Feels light-hearted and free — only for the sound to falter as his eyes land on Max.

The alpha hasn’t noticed him yet but he’s walking in with his family and the other council members. 

The air he carries around him, cold and untouchable. An exact mirror of Jos. 

Charles can’t get used to this no matter how many times he’s seen it. The way warmth fades from those blue eyes, the way Max’s gaze becomes calculative, like he’s on high alert. Their earlier conversation suddenly rings in the back of his mind and the cruel words Max had spoken. Somehow watching Max like this, with his rigid posture and cold demeanour, it makes sense.

He’s lost his childhood friend and his first love a long time ago now. Maybe this is just how Max is and he’d just been fooling himself. 

The wandering blue eyes eventually land on him and Charles can’t deny how they soften just a touch. Or was that his mind playing games with him again? 

Before he could get lost in his own mind again he feels a gentle nudge and Seb’s urgent voice in his ear. “Sainz Jr is approaching.”

Fuck!

Charles immediately straightens up and subtly tries to see where Seb was not so subtly pointing. And yes, that was definitely Carlos. And yes, he was most definitely walking their way. 

The moment their eyes meet, Carlos’ lips curl into a smile and Charles curses heavens and the earth for once again putting him in a not-so-ideal position.

Charles hadn’t even spared a thought about this certain alpha being here, not when his whole brain capacity had been stolen by the other alpha.

Seb, that back-stabber, quickly excuses himself with a reason he doesn’t catch. 

“Charles.” Carlos drawls as he nears them, the consonants of his name pronounced harsher than he likes. “It’s so nice to see you here.”

Charles rolls his eyes, internally not externally because he was still composed enough to keep his expression neutral.

“You too Carlos.” He says, more out of politeness than sincerity. 

Carlos’ smile widens in that way that always seems just a bit too confident. “You look well.” He begins, eyes briefly scanning Charles from head to toe, making his skin prickle just slightly. “I rarely see you at pack gatherings anymore.”

Charles bites back a sigh. “It’s been busy at the medical hut.” He says flatly, hoping his bored tone deters Carlos enough into ending this conversation. 

Carlos laughs lightly, ignoring the edge in Charles’ voice. “You always were sharp-tongued. That hasn’t changed.”

Neither has your ego, Charles thinks but doesn’t say it.

Charles tries to make save me! eyes at Lando but his friend was too immersed in whatever Oscar was saying to pay any attention to them.

Taking his silence as an invitation, Carlos leans in slightly, close enough for Charles to catch the cedarwood scent that was particularly grating him today. “I was thinking…” He begins, then smirks. “Maybe I went about courting you all wrong before.”

Charles blinks.

“What?” 

Carlos’ smile turns into a full grin now. Cocky and bold “Just a smart,  independent omega such as yourself deserves a proper proposal. Not the rushed one I made last year.”

Fucking hell. Charles really does not like where this is going. 

Not to mention last year’s “proposal” should not even be considered a proposal at all.

Carlos was another alpha he’d grown up alongside but was slightly older so their paths rarely ever crossed. 

He’d been aware of Carlos’ presence, they were a tight knit pack after all and they’ve had a few conversations here and there but other than that Charles never paid him much mind and vice versa.

But Charles still doesn’t know what shifted in Carlos’ head. What made him suddenly turn around and see Charles as a potential candidate. Mate material. An omega to court. 

He hadn’t changed since their teenage years, if anything Charles had grown quieter, busier, more reclusive since his grandmother’s passing and his full time hours at the medical hut. 

Charles doesn’t know what he’d done to “attract” but Carlos had approached him last year with the cheapest of bracelets, a box of berries and a simple – “We could be compatible, should we try courting?”

Needless to say Charles had shot him down immediately.

Charles stares at him, deadpan. “You mean when you tried to ‘woo’ me by getting me a rusty second-hand bracelet and berries that you probably found in your kitchen?”

Carlos chuckles a bit awkwardly. “I’ve learnt from my mistake.” 

“If you did, maybe apologise first.”

Carlos’ idea of proposing was more insulting than anything. The alpha had generational wealth, his father was one of the highest members of their pack and not to mention Carlos’ family owned most of the land their very pack was established on.

That’s not to say Carlos could’ve won him over by expensive courting gifts, no, all Charles ever wanted was genuinity. 

If Carlos had been genuine, then maybe just maybe Charles would’ve considered it. Instead he was left wondering if Carlos was dared by his friends or was playing some sick prank on him.

“I’m sorry.” Carlos admits easily. Then — “I’m not messing around.” He says, his tone shifting into something slightly more serious. “Let me do this the proper way. If I win this race today, I want to dedicate it to you.”

“What!?” He says, his voice way too loud and high-pitched. 

“You deserve a grand gesture, a —”

“Woah woah!” Lando finally intervenes, thank god! “If you know Charles at all, then this is the last thing he’d want.”

Ah. There is his defensive friend. 

Carlos snickers. “That’s where you're wrong. Any omega would be lucky to have a strong alpha dedicate a victory to them. It’s too bad, Oscar was always a fucking coward so you wouldn’t know.”

The words have barely left the alpha before Lando lunges. Charles and Oscar react just in time, with Oscar looping an arm around his waist and Charles holding back his flailing limbs.

For a small omega, Lando sure had a lot of strength.

“Don’t.” Charles hisses under his breath, holding him firm. “He’s not worth it.”

Lando struggles against his grip, teeth bared. “He doesn’t get to talk about Oscar like that—”

“I know. I know.” Charles tightens his hold. “But not here. Not like this.”

Carlos watches them, looking far too pleased with himself, like he’d been hoping to provoke them and it worked.

“First of all –” Charles says, once he’s deemed Lando safe to let go and turns back to Carlos. “Stop generalising omegas and what you think we want. Second, you wouldn’t win even if every other alpha tripped on a branch.” He challenges. 

As expected, that gets a reaction from Carlos.

“You will regret saying that Charles.” He warns.

For a brief second, he thinks he’s fucked up. Charles doesn’t even know who’s competing and neither has he seen Carlos compete before. So he did make quite a bold claim. 

But something tells him that this pompous alpha wouldn’t win. Call it instinct or stupidity, it didn’t matter. He dug himself a hole and now he will lie in it.

Before Charles can respond though, a familiar growl cuts through the air from across the clearing. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is.

Max.

Carlos glances over his shoulder and cocks an eyebrow. “And here I thought I was your only admirer.”

Charles groans internally. “Just go warm up for the race, Carlos.”

“Oh, I will.” He winks and steps back with a mock bow. “Don’t forget to cheer for me.”

“I won’t be cheering for anyone.” 

Carlos ignores his words and he waves goodbye, sauntering off.

Charles’ heartbeat starts to kick up to an alarming level. One issue solved, now another one coming up. This evening just kept getting worse and worse.

“What the fuck did he want?” Max asks him but his eyes are still glaring daggers at the retreating alpha.

“He wants to win the race so he can court Cha.” 

“Lando!”  Charles hisses, mortified.

He’d wanted to first ask what Max wanted but Lando had to open his big mouth and reveal the stupid conversation they’d just had.

Charles takes back whatever he said about Lando having his back!

Max’s head snaps around, eyes going wide as he stares at Lando, then at Charles and finally back toward where Carlos had disappeared into the crowd. “He what? ” 

The alpha’s jaw ticks, his chest visibly rising with each breath as his gaze remains fixated in the general direction Carlos has now disappeared to.

Lando looks thoroughly amused. “You heard me.”

“You are not entertaining this are you?” Max asks but doesn’t actually let him answer. “Of course you won’t.”

Charles bristles. 

What Max said wasn’t a lie but since the alpha was so good at reminding him his place, Charles should do the same.

“Why shouldn’t I? I have nothing to lose right? . ” He throws the words back at Max and it has the desired effect. 

Max doesn’t reply, just looks as devastated as he did when uttered those words yesterday.

“I feel like I’m missing something.” Lando questions later when Max had left. The sun finally sets and the race was set to begin any minute now. “What was that with Max?”

“Just the usual.” Charles dismisses, not because he doesn't want to confide in Lando but the stupid race was going to start soon and if by any chance Carlos won and decides to publicly ask to court him, Charles is not too sure he can decline. 

Not when the Head family was there, including Carlos’ own and the entire pack. 

It would be humiliating for Carlos but more importantly he’d probably be condemned just for rejecting an alpha who by all measures was “above his league.”

“Should I go, like, cut his tail off or something?” Lando then says. 

The absurdity of that sentence has him looking at his friend. “What?” 

Lando rolls his eyes. “You are so worried about Carlos winning, I could do some sabotage you know. Make sure he doesn’t win.”

Charles laughs, Oscar looks horrified and Lando looks way too pleased with himself.

“Lando, babe, please don’t. You know how alphas get with these competitions, you can’t handle them.” Oscar practically begs, because he also knows Lando was mostly serious with his suggestion.

“I totally can!” 

Charles and Oscar exchange a single glance, one that says “ Lando is on his bullshit again .”

Lando clocks on though and pouts at them both. “I was just trying to save you from a loveless future with that narcissistic prick but have it your way! I’m getting some bread and soup.” He declares.

They both laugh as they watch Lando shuffle away when the first warning horn is sounded. It effectively stops all conversation for a single second before the chatter starts with renewed vigour.

This was the first of the three horns that will be sounded for the evening. The first one for all the participating alphas to gather at the hut closest to the track so they can shift and prepare, second one for the alphas to line up along the start line and the final one to signal the start of the race.

Charles didn’t know how such a familiar sound, one that he’d been hearing all childhood, could sound so foreign to him now. Probably because all those previous times there was nothing at stake for him. But now —

“Surely Carlos wasn’t serious. He hasn’t spoken to me at all since last year and suddenly this.” Charles begins, trying to rationalise everything. “ Non . He just wanted to see how I would react. Probably tease me a bit.”

“To be fair you barely show your face anywhere but the medical hut and your own home so he didn’t really have a chance to speak with you, not to mention Carlos had been away for half a year visiting the William pack.” Oscar points out. 

Charles didn’t need Oscar’s logic right now, he just needed someone to tell him that Carlos was joking and for him not to win the race. 

“Omg omg!” Lando is screaming as he quite literally sprints back to their spot, his hands empty. 

“What happened to soup —”

“Shush!” Lando slaps a hand over Oscar’s mouth. “I just — fuck — Max — he’s…” Lando is still huffing and puffing while still trying to talk. His words coming out half a wheeze and half a screech.

“Slow down babe what happened?!”

Lando takes a few deep breaths to steady himself then — “Maxisenteringtherace.” He says all in one breath.

“Max is —”

Oscar still looks confused but Charles heard it loud and clear. “ — entering the race.” He finishes off the sentence. 

“Yes!” Lando confirms. “I know I was goading him before but I didn’t think he actually would. God how gone is he for you Cha? And —”

His friend is still talking but all Charles hears is some kind of static. Muffled voices as if he’s underwater. 

Max —

Max was entering the race?

The one that happened outside of their pack borders. 

Outside where it’s dangerous and — dread, panic, coils in his gut and spreads through his chest like wildfire.

Sure Charles was angry with him, wished the alpha just disappeared but he never wishes for Max to be physically harmed.

“I need to stop him. He must be out of his mind.” His voice is too calm for the way his heart seems to be beating out of his chest. 

Lando’s grin falters, replaced by worry. “Cha—”

“No, I mean it.” Charles cuts him off, already turning to go. “He’s going to get himself hurt, or worse.”

But then the second horn rings. A sharp, echoing sound that silences the clearing in an instant.

The race was about to begin.

Charles freezes mid-step, heart lurching. The crowd shifts their attention, throwing anticipatory glances towards the hut where each of the alphas in their shifted forms emerge. 

Wolves sleek and strong, their coats gleaming under the moon.

He knows the moment Max is spotted because a collective gasp ripples through the pack and everyone is flicking their eyes left and right trying to understand if what they are seeing is real.

Max was going to race. 

They were all going to witness their future Head Alpha racing for the first time. 

Charles couldn’t help but recall something Max had once said to him, back when things between them were easier.

“I will only race when I deem it worthy.”

Charles also remembers chuckling back then and asking what that could be, Max hadn’t answered but now —

He’s scared.  

Charles has seen him like this before — his true form. 

He was there when Max had first shifted and he was there all the hundreds of other times in between.

But it was always the same single thought that rolled around in his mind when he witnessed this sight — Max’s wolf form was blinding in its beauty. 

His fur glinted under the almost full moon, such a stark brilliant white. Like untouched snow, like fresh winter mornings.

Max moved through the other alphas like a storm as they all lined up at the start line. His white coat out of place in the sea of grays, blacks and browns. 

He also stood tall and proud, like he was already tasting victory before he’d earned it. This cockiness suited him.

A gentle touch startled him out of his thoughts, turning to glance back at his friend. “Ollie is here.” Lando nods his head to the side.

He follows Lando’s line of sight to see the brunet omega clutching his hands together in a prayer, his eyes trained on the start line. 

Charles feels something sink in him. 

But then those icy blue eyes flick up and find Charles in the crowd. Max doesn’t look away even as the others start posturing and snarling, his eyes trained on Charles. 

As a final desperate attempt, Charles mouths a small inaudible “please don’t.”  

The final horn rings out. 

And before Charles can even take a breath, the wolves are off.

The start was the most important part, having a clean getaway was crucial. That’s why before the echo of the horn had even faded the forest erupts in a blur of growls, snarls and steps pounding on the ground and echoing around the entire clearing. 

Roots rip under claws, dirt flings into the air and already someone’s been shoved hard into a tree. Charles can’t tell who but it doesn’t matter. His eyes are locked on only one wolf.

Max.

He’s fast. Faster than Charles remembers. And calculated. Where others lunge and bite and try to rip at each other apart, Max expertly dodges. 

But he’s barely ahead, the others still hot on his heels. 

Charles watches as Max takes a sharp corner around a protruding thick root and barely shifts his weight to avoid it. An alpha tries to body him into a low branch, which Max easily bypasses by ducking but there’s another alpha at the ready, mouth stretched open, teeth glinting ready to bite.

Charles shouts without thinking.

But Max is faster. He twists, almost unnaturally, just out of reach, the snapping jaws missing him by hair's width. 

Charles can’t breathe, he can barely blink.

He forgets about everyone else, about Ollie wringing his hands at the edge of the trees, about Lando at his side.

He forgets about everything except the white blur tearing through the track like he was born to do this. Like he was born to race. 

As suddenly as it began, the alphas start disappearing past the border and into the thick, dense forest. The clearing grows quieter and Charles is left staring at the looming trees. Heart in his throat.

This part was worse, having to wait to see who would come back limping, or with blood soaking their fur coats, or if they came back at all. 

“That was —” Oscar begins.

Charles finishes off for him. “Intense.” 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” 

Both Oscar and Charles look at Lando concernedly.

Charles gets it. The only races Lando had been privy to were the ones within their pack boundary, not as brutal and violent so Lando was understandably shaken.

“How long will they be out there?” He asks.

“Could be minutes or hours.” 

“Why don’t I take you inside for a bit?” Oscar offers and Lando eagerly nods, definitely looking like he could use the break.

Charles waves them off, reassuring them he will be fine. He can’t allow himself to go inside where it was warm and safe, when Max is still out there in the cold and pointedly unsafe.

He can’t begin to imagine what an opportunity this was for all the other alphas competing, to go head to head against their future leader. It would be the highest level of bragging rights if they could manage to beat Max. 

But he can’t think too much of how if they wanted they could all gang up on Max and take him out. How they could leave Max’s body there for the rogues to find or they could drag Max back here and boast. 

Charles can’t think about all of these possibilities without throwing himself into a panic attack. So he lets himself take a deep breath. He notices how his entire body is trembling with leftover adrenaline and how each breath is shaky. 

He slowly makes his way over to a bench and sits down, trying to calm his beating heart and tries not to flinch at every howl or whimper he faintly hears from the woods beyond.

Charles only get a few minutes of blissful silence before —

“Charles?” 

The familiar voice makes him stiffen on instinct. God, he really couldn’t seem to catch a break.

He plasters a smile on his face, knowing it probably resembled more a grimace than a smile. “Ollie hi.”

Ollie takes a seat next to him, easy smiles and crinkling eyes. 

For a while they say nothing, just stare at the treeline where the alphas will eventually emerge. Also Charles doesn’t dare break the silence. Too afraid about where that line of conversation could go.

But it’s Ollie who eventually speaks up. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Um, it might be a silly request but I would really like to learn herbology from you.”

And —

That was the last thing he’d expected. 

“I – what?”

“I’ve always admired it. The art of healing. My parents would never let me study it but if I can help heal my future mate, my pups and my family, that would be enough for me.”

Charles' thoughts stutter to a stop at the mention of future mate – Max.

He couldn’t deny him though. Not when Ollie hadn’t ever been mean to him and it was an innocent request. It doesn’t seem like the other omega had ulterior motives either. 

“I suppose I can.”

Ollie responds with a radiant smile. “Thank you Charles. It means a lot!”

How is the omega so carefree when their future mate was out there fighting between life and death? Did Ollie even care? 

They sit in silence for a long time before the sound of growls and pounding paws grows closer.

Charles becomes alert, breath stopping in his throat, as the crowd begins to gravitate to the border waiting for the inevitable.

A flash of white.

Charles’ heart kicks up again, beating painfully against his ribs. The pack cheers as the first wolf emerges from the forest, limbs stretched out in a full sprint, fur catching the moonlight.

It’s Max.

Of course it’s Max.

His coat, usually pristine, is now streaked with red. A smear across his left side and down one leg. It’s not clear if it’s his blood or someone else’s but Charles’ stomach clenches anyway.

Despite the mess, Max doesn’t falter. His paws hit the ground with power. Body coiled tight and focused like he’s got nothing left to conquer but the finish line. He doesn’t even slow as he crosses it, just pushes through with one final surge, a low growl tearing out of his throat as he breaks through. 

He’s first. Unmistakably. Dominantly. No other alpha was in sight. 

The crowd erupts into loud cheers. But Charles hears none of it. All he can do is stare, eyes locked on Max as he finally slows, panting hard, blood-streaked and magnificent.

Charles lingers behind, happy to see the celebration unfold away from everyone. 

Max was safe. That was all that mattered. He could once again breathe. 

The crowd begins to part, making way for Max who doesn’t stop, doesn’t retreat to the hut to shift back but continues on.

His eyes locked on – him.

Charles freezes, looks over to his right where Ollie stood a few steps away, looks back and Max was still walking towards him, panting hard but determined. 

The noise around them heightens as the pack realises what’s happening. 

Charles takes a step back and gives a subtle shake of his head, a quiet pleading “ no ”  but it does nothing to deter the alpha.

Max was right there in front of him now.

In his wolf form Max completely towered over him. So much so that Charles couldn’t see anyone or hear anything else. 

Only Max and his intense blue eyes, the smell of sea salt all around. 

Max leans down, nudging his hand. 

Charles hesitates, then slowly lifts it. His fingers stroke through the soft fur and a rumbling sound vibrates from Max’s chest. Content, almost reverent.

A quiet smile pulls at Charles’ lips.

Chapter Text

It could’ve been hours, or minutes or mere seconds, Charles wasn’t sure. The concept of time had slipped through his fingers the moment Max leaned into his touch. 

Gone was the big bad wolf who’d dominated the race and in his place stood an oversized puppy begging for affection.

If time could just stop now then Charles was sure he would be content. 

He lets out a quiet breath, fingers still threading gently through the warm fur. “You’re ridiculous.”

Max just nuzzled closer to his touch in response. 

The moment was interrupted by a harsh clearing of the throat.

Charles drops his hand, ignoring the small whine from Max to turn to the side. He immediately stiffens up at the alpha in front of him — Jos.

Fuck. 

It was like a veil had been lifted and now suddenly all sounds and chatter filters back in. Charles also glances to where Ollie had just been before, now nowhere to be found. 

The rest of the pack were trying to look busy, conversing amongst themselves in hushed whispers but Charles can see them throw looks their way every now and then. 

Fuck what had Max just done!? What had Charles let Max do? 

In front of the whole pack, in front of his father and the omega he was courting, Max had what — he had just walked towards Charles after a damn race that he’d won? 

The implications were there, loud and clear. 

Charles was about to become the centre of gossip in their pack, Ollie would hate him, not to mention how Jos would react.

“Head Alpha.” Charles addresses and bows his head down in respect.

Jos looked murderous. There was no other way to describe it.

“Shouldn’t you be at the medical hut?” He says, voice clipped and tight like Jos was holding back.

Charles wrings his hands together. “Oh. I – um. Sebastian gave me the evening off.”

“You think it is appropriate for a healer to be enjoying festivities when several of our pack members would need medical assistance?” Jos doesn’t miss a beat to ask. His tone was as condescending as his words.

Charles wanted to roll his eyes, of course now they worry about how the medical hut could be under-resourced. He doesn’t bother to correct Jos though, there was no point. 

Plus there was something about their Head Alpha. A quiet intense fear he invoked in others. It was no secret that Jos commanded respect through intimidation.

Going against Jos meant going against Christian, Helmut, Sainz Sr. and many more affluent figures in their pack. They had the power to do whatever they wanted, no questions asked. Charles most definitely did not want to get on his bad side.

So he said nothing. Just nodded once, sharply and kept his thoughts tucked tightly behind clenched teeth. “I will go there now, Head Alpha.”

Jos doesn’t bother to acknowledge him any further and turns his glare at Max, who was still in his wolf form, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes. 

There was barely restrained fury in the way Jos was clenching his fists. Charles didn’t want to know what their Head Alpha would’ve done if they weren’t in such a public setting and there was some form of dignity he had to uphold in front of their pack members.

“Shift back.” Jos eventually orders and walks away.

Charles can’t look at Max, not with the weight of everything pressing down on him. He does catch the hunched over wolf trudging back to the hut though. 

This was not how it was supposed to go for either of them. He doesn’t know what to think anymore.

It was said that when someone assumes their true form everything else falls away. Logic, thought and duty . All you are is fur, bone and deep rooted instinct. Primal. Raw. As if the mind finally steps aside and lets the heart drive every action.

As dangerous as it was, it was freeing.

Long ago wolves weren’t ruled by politics and class systems, they were all one big community who thrived from making choices based on pure survival. 

At the end of the day, that was why packs had formed. To survive. To find strength in numbers. But somewhere along the way, some decided they were more powerful than others, they decided they knew better than most and such a werewolf should lead. 

Lead them to survive the harsh winters, migration to safer areas, food scarcity – the list went on. 

They were given that position with trust. 

But as with all things, trust was misplaced. Soon, being a pack leader came to mean absolute power.

Those beneath them had to cower in fear, biting back words and watching their tongues carefully. One wrong phrase, one moment of defiance and punishment was swift and unforgiving.

That’s what most of them did these days — thought twice before they spoke, contemplated before they acted.

They fought their instincts. 

But that control was relinquished when you were in your true form. That’s why most preferred to not embrace their wolf forms often, if at all. It was reserved for long distance travel, hunts and well — races.

What Max just did — that was purely instinctual. 

Max’s wolf chose to come to Charles, not Ollie, not some other omega but him. 

That had to mean something. Something that Max, when not in his wolf form, probably didn’t want to acknowledge. 

So at the end of the day it was the same story – Max was still a coward. 

Charles walks away without a single glance back. 

Maybe surrounded by the familiarity of the medical hut, the routine of attending to patients and the comforting scent of herbs lingering in the air will clear his thoughts. 

The sight that greets him when he walks in brings him to a halt. There was pure chaos unfolding before him. 

Nearly every cot was occupied and the overflow of injured alphas spilled into the rest of the hut. Some were slumped in visitor chairs while others leaned against the walls. 

There must be at least twenty of them, packed into the space, bruised and bloodied. An occasional groan or scream reverberating around the room.

The scent of dirt, distress and agony mixed with herbs swirled in the air. 

“Oh thank god you are here!” Seb calls from where he was in the middle of carefully cleaning a deep gash on an alpha. “I was just about to send someone to get you.”

“What the hell happened?” He questions, walking further inside.

“Max did a number on them, that’s what fucking happened.” The alpha he’s tending to lets out a groan of pain. “Suck it up.” Seb dismisses, then glares at him. “Charles hurry up!”

Charles immediately jumps into action. His body moves purely through practiced urgency and he doesn’t let his brain think about anything else other than patients that needed tending to. 

“Charles, I need you to look after this one.” Esteban waves, gesturing him over to a cot where an alpha is half-slumped, breathing shallowly.  “Broken ribs and potentially right wrist as well. Someone clawed the side of his face, he will need stitches. “

Charles nods. He thoroughly cleans his hands and wears a robe over his outside clothes before taking over.

The alpha on the cot was young, possibly only recently presented. His bloodied shirt was cut open to expose the mottled bruising across his ribs. His right wrist was beginning to swell, bent at an unnatural angle and deep claw marks raked down his face.

“Bite down on this.” Charles says gently, offering a rolled strip of cloth as he starts cleaning the claw marks with some water infused with clove oil to numb the area.

Once the area is numbed and cleaned, Charles threads a needle with steady hands, beginning to stitch the torn skin on the alpha’s face with swift, practiced movements.

He moves onto the rest of the alpha’s injuries, gently applying a salve to mend the broken bones together.

Before he even has the time to breathe, he’s onto the next alpha. This one with milder injuries but no less serious. 

Just as he begins to settle into the rhythm, his eyes catch on a figure across the room and his heart lurches.

Carlos.

The alpha’s usual cockiness and arrogant smirk was wiped away. Instead he laid unconscious on the cot with Seb hovering over him. Focused and tense. 

The beta was carefully cleaning around what looked to be a head-injury. Deep gash above Carlos’ brow, the surrounding skin crusted with dried blood and darkening into an ugly bruise.

“He hasn’t woken up since they brought him in.” Seb muttered when he noticed Charles watching. “Blunt force trauma to the side of the head. Classic signs of a concussion too. Sluggish pupils, slight swelling and unresponsive. We’ll take more aggressive action if he doesn’t wake up soon.”

Charles gasped. Heady injuries were always the worst. Most deadly. 

“Max did that?”

Seb sighs. “Don’t know. Can’t exactly ask anyone right now. I just know that Max was the only alpha who seemed to walk away from tonight’s race in one piece.”

Charles gritted his teeth together. This was so stupid. Everything was so fucking stupid!

Why was the race even held? How could everyone be so reckless? 

All these wolves in here were their pack’s finest young alphas. What happens if an enemy pack were to strike right now? With half of their usual fighters out of action, they would be invaded before Charles could blink an eye.

“Stop stalling Charles.” Seb calls. “We’ve seen worse.”

And that’s just the worst part. They have seen worse. 

“This is all so stupid.” He mumbles low enough for no one to catch his words before returning back to his duties. 

Exhausted by his shift at the medical hut and the general events of the evening, Charles finally makes it back home with the moon hanging high overhead, casting pale light over the forest floor. Now close to midnight.

He finds Lando waiting for him, seated at the porch.

The moment he sees Charles, he perks up, relief flooding his face. “Oh thank god!” He breathes, rushing forward without hesitation. He throws his arms around Charles, pulling him into a tight hug.

And Charles just — falls.

His knees nearly give, his body going slack, leaning all his weight into Lando.

Lando, bless him, barely lets out a grunt, arms tightening instinctively. He shifts and gently maneuvers them both toward the steps, guiding Charles down until he’s seated.

“I bought some food.” He says, gesturing to the covered plate next to them. “Although it’s probably cold now. I can heat it up while you bathe?”

Charles just hums. He barely realises his hunger or the fact he hadn’t had a proper meal since breakfast that morning. 

“How are you feeling Cha?”

Charles leans his head down on Lando’s shoulder, basking in the warmth and familiar scent of the other omega.

“Did you see Max?” He asks instead.

Lando just huffs. “No. He just disappeared.” 

As expected, Charles thinks but doesn’t say.

“The medical hut was a mess. Luckily everyone survived.” Charles says, knowing Lando was probably curious about it too.

“I heard Carlos was in pretty bad shape.” The other omega remarks. 

Charles sighs. “He’s mostly fine. A head injury but he woke up briefly. We are keeping him in the hut for a few days to monitor.”

Lando nods and they both go back to staring out into the open night. When eventually Charles breaks the silence once more.

“Have you seen Ollie?”

Lando takes longer to respond this time. “He was there at the dinner. Seemed – fine.”

That was good?

Charles never had anything against the other omega. He was Christian’s son and such a position within their pack could’ve made him act out, be bratty and entitled. Instead Ollie was nice . 

He was humble, sat with the others during gatherings instead of sitting at the area reserved for the pack leaders and their families. He helped in the kitchens, volunteered to babysit pups and even took care of the elders. 

A part of Charles detested Ollie for being so likeable. If he had a terrible personality then it would’ve been easier for Charles to hate him. But as it stood, Charles was probably the terrible one for hating on a fellow omega who had done nothing to deserve it.

He didn’t want Ollie to get hurt unnecessarily. 

“I hope he doesn’t misunderstand. It was not like Max actually said anything.” Charles says slowly. 

Which yes, in actuality was the truth. 

The alpha had just walked to him. That wasn’t an actual proposal. Sure the implications were there and the rumours would probably be running wild by now. 

“Um. How’s the pack reacting?”

Lando hesitates before answering. “I – it’s been mixed?”

Charles looks up from where his head is perched on Lando’s shoulder, takes in the other omega chewing on his lips like he’s trying to swallow the words he wants to say. 

“Mixed how?” He prods. 

“Well —” Lando just waves his hand around, like that was supposed to explain anything. “Some are under the impression that Max was basically proposing to court you. The elders cracked their shit about how scandalous it all was… but then Jos he did some damage control I guess?”

“Damage control?” Charles repeats. 

“Yes. Announced that Max obviously didn’t need to propose to Ollie because they were already courting but obviously Max got hurt during the race so obviously he went straight to you so you could treat him.” Lando says, throwing emphasis on the word obviously. 

Charles can’t help chuckle at that. Then, before he knows it,  that chuckle builds into full-blown laughter. He pulls away from Lando, doubling over, clutching at his stomach as the sound bursts out of him.

He had to give it off to Jos, that was a smooth safe. Though he doubts many bought it. 

“Have you gone insane?” Lando asks, somewhere between concerned and horrified.

“No —” Charles wheezes between laughter. “Just —” He hiccups. “That was smart, no?” He laughs harder, shoulders shaking. 

“Okay you’re scaring me now. Let’s just go inside.” Lando urges.

Charles takes Lando’s outstretched hand and follows the other omega inside. 

“Max wasn’t actually in the medical hut was he?” Lando asks, turning the stove on so he can heat up whatever food he’d brought in.

“He wasn’t.” Charles confirms. 

Which was a blessing truly. If he had seen Max and now that some of his rationality was back, Charles couldn't guarantee he wouldn’t have resorted to physical violence for making him go through all that. 

The next morning Charles was awoken from a restless sleep by a soft knock. 

The morning light was barely filtering in through his open curtains which tells him it was probably just after sunrise. Meaning he got less than three hours of sleep.

Last night he let Lando feed and fuss over him until eventually pushing the other omega out so they both could rest. 

If someone came this early, it had to be an emergency so he rushes over and pulls the door open to a familiar face smiling at him. Sophie. Max’s mother.

“Sophie?” Charles says in surprise.

Her smile slips off. “Oh dear. I woke you up didn’t I?”

Charles takes in his appearance on the small mirror he had next to the door. In his haste he hadn’t realised he was still wearing his wrinkled tunic and shorts, his hair was stuck in every which way and while eyes were puffy and half opened. 

It was no way to greet their Head Omega but he couldn’t change anything now.

“No no! I was about to wake up anyway.” He lies. Charles swipes his hands through his hair, hoping to tame his wild curls a bit. 

“Sorry to bother you so early Charles.” Sophie says with a frown. “But this couldn’t wait.”

“Oh.” 

His brain supplies him all the possibilities. Sophie was there at the gathering yesterday. Was she about to tell Charles off about what had transpired? He takes a shuddering breath in and decides to face her disappointment head on. 

“Please come in.” He invites, stepping aside to allow her to walk through.

Sophie smiles gratefully. “Come on liefje.” She throws over her shoulder to — Max?!

Charles hadn’t even noticed his presence until now but the alpha was hanging back, hunched over and looking a bit sheepish.

Sophie walks ahead while Max lingers just outside the doorstep.

Great. They were both about to be told off weren’t they? Charles glares at Max. This was all the alpha’s fault! 

Max pauses, deliberately rakes his eyes up and down his body, his gaze searing and — only now Charles suddenly realises how tiny his shorts were and how the baggy tunic he’d thrown on was slipping down one of his shoulders. 

He yanks the saggy shoulder up and glares harder. 

Max finally lifts his gaze from where it was lingering on his exposed thighs, has the audacity to roll his eyes and mouth a “what?”

Was Max not afraid of the consequences of his actions? He was acting so blase and casual. 

“Are you boys coming in?” Sophie’s voice flows from inside. 

Max pushes past him with a smirk but promptly stumbles. 

Charles catches him on instinct, his hands coming up around the alpha’s waist to stabilise him but unfortunately his touch has the opposite reaction as Max flinches back. 

“Are you hurt somewhere?” 

Max waves his concern away and without replying carefully walks inside where Sophie was already sitting at his small dining table.

Luckily Charles always kept his space clean, a habit he’d picked up from his grandmother, so he didn’t have to worry about any mess. 

He quickly excuses himself so he can be more appropriately dressed before joining them at the table. 

Charles is feeling a bit more awake now, he’s able to take in his surroundings better and when he looks at Sophie – she doesn’t look angry at all? Whereas Max is most definitely favouring his right side. 

“Sorry for coming here so early Charles. I had to do it before anyone saw us.” She says looking apologetic.

Charles quickly waves away her concern. “It’s okay. I usually wake up around this time anyway.”

“I won’t beat around the bush. Max got hurt yesterday but refuses to get treatment.”

Which just confirms his suspicions. The way the alpha was slightly limping, sat leaning to one side and how he turned away from Charles’ touch as if it burned him.

Charles also recalled his sprained ankle. Racing before it was fully healed clearly hadn’t done him any favours either.

“So you come to me for stupid things but not when you are actually hurt?” His tone was sharp, laced with frustration and the worry he’s trying hard to mask.

Max just averts his eyes, his gaze landing on his little indoor plants that lined his window sill as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“It was nothing Ma.” Max mumbles, his voice so low Charles had to lean in to hear.

Sophie sighs big, loud and dramatic like she was done with Max’s bullshit and frankly Charles was as well.

He’s also feeling a little annoyed at the whole situation, so he decides to gang up on Max too.

Charles purposefully pokes at his left side and Max jerks back as if his touch burned him. He whips his head up and narrows his eyes at him to which Charles raises an eyebrow, challenging. “I thought it was nothing?”

Max huffs. “I may have scraped my side.”

“Liefje, you need proper treatment.” Sohpie says, her voice patient.

“I managed.” Max replies curtly. 

“Max.” She says a bit more sternly.

“I don’t get the point of this!” Max says petulant and a bit childish really.

This Max reminds Charles of the Max he grew up with. The one who pouted and whined to his mother when she would scold him for playing too long or when his teasing went too far.

It was endearing to see that this part of Max hadn’t changed. He was still a little pup in front of his mother.

“Max, you know what the point of this is.” Sophie insists. 

Charles looks between the two of them as they have a silent conversation through looks alone.

Eventually, Max lets out a long, annoyed huff. “I think I may need stitches?” He says casually. 

Charles blinks. Processes. Then —

“You what !?” He practically shouts, eyes going wide.

With a tired sigh, Max pushes himself to his feet, wincing slightly. He grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up revealing a thick bandage. It was already bleeding through, dark red seeping into the fabric in uneven patches and Charles could see the edges of the cotton sticking out from where it hadn’t even been secured properly.

He immediately jumps up to inspect closer. 

Charles keeps his touch as gentle as possible and peels back the cotton just slightly to gauge how deep the gash is. The skin around the wound is swollen and flushed, angry and inflamed. The gash itself is deeper than he expected, steadily bleeding.

He exhales, jaw clenching. “This isn’t just a scratch, Max. Was this — who did this?” 

Max just shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Should’ve seen the other guy.” 

“Max!” Both Sophie and Charles shouted in unison.

“Relax.” Max placates. “I’m here now. We’ll get it treated.”

“Stop being so chill about this!” Charles scolds, maneuvering Max so he’s seated on his single cot. “Why didn’t you come to the medical hut straight away? It could’ve been infected and you’ve left it exposed to the elements and bacteria for who knows how long. Not to mention your ankle is still healing. This is so irresponsible and reckless and just plain stupid —”

He was cut off mid-tirade by a soft laugh.

Charles turned, a little sheepish, catching Sophie’s amused expression as she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Here Charles was, scolding their pack’s future Head Alpha in front of their current Head Omega. He may have had the privilege of familiarity when they were pups but not now. 

Now, Charles and Max belonged to different worlds. He just hopes he hadn’t offended Sophie in any way. “I’m sorry.” 

Sophie shakes her head. “No, don't apologise dear. It’s kind of sweet. Even now you are the only one that can knock some sense into him.”

“I don’t need any sense knocked into me!” Max quite literally whines. If he could, the alpha would probably stomp his foot too.

“Clearly you do.” Sophie muses. 

“I will clean my hands and get some supplies. So stay put.” Charles warns and gestures Max to lay down properly.

A few minutes later Charles returned with a small tray. He placed it on the side table and rolled up his sleeves.

“Take your shirt off properly, I need full access to the wound.” 

Max obeyed with a theatrical groan, carefully tugging the fabric away from the bandage. The cut was still red and angry. Luckily it wouldn’t need too many stitches. 

“I’m going to numb the area. It’s going to sting at first but it’ll go dull after a few seconds.”

He soaked a cloth in a mixture of goldenseal and yarrow to begin gently cleaning around the wound. Max hissed through his teeth at the initial touch but didn’t complain otherwise.

Charles got to work quickly. 

Once the skin was ready with the numbing solution he threaded the needle and began stitching, his hands steady despite the emotion still simmering under his skin. 

Max winced once but otherwise stayed still. Blue eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“You’re lucky it wasn’t deeper.” Charles muttered. “Another inch and you would have had muscle damage.”

“I still wouldn’t have come to you.” 

Charles paused, needle hovering midair. “Why?” He whispers. 

Max was silent for a moment. Then — “Don’t want you to see me weak.” He shrugs.

Charles drops the needle and pinches Max on his uninjured side. Expectedly the alpha yelps in response. “What the hell?!”

“You want to act tough in front of me? I’ve seen you cry over a dead ladybug Max.” 

“I’ve seen him sobbing when Vic refused to let him play with her dolls.” Sophie pipes up.

Max groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Are we seriously doing this right now?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Charles replies, going back to the task at hand.

“I was five !” Max argues

“You were seven .” Sophie corrected with a grin. “And you tried to bribe her.”

Max flopped back onto the cot with a dramatic sigh. “I hate both of you.”

Eventually, the herbs make the alpha drowsy enough to fall into a light sleep, his breathing evening out as the tension in his body finally loosens. Charles re-wraps the cotton around the stitches, finishing off with applying some salve to his ankle and gets up to put away his supplies. 

He returns to his room to see Sophie sitting beside the cot.

She’s gently running her fingers through Max’s hair, smoothing it back from his forehead with a tenderness.

“Sophie –” Charles starts tentatively. “Why did Max not come to get treatment yesterday? Was he embarrassed that all the other alphas would be there?”

Sophie looks up but continues combing her fingers through Max’s hair. “It’s not a pride issue. At least not in the way you think. I believe Max just wanted to rebel against his father.”

The Max he knew always said it was easier to give into his father than try to argue. Intrigued by the notion of the alpha ever wanting to stand up to his father, he couldn’t help but ask more. 

“How so?”

“I’m sure you heard what his father has told the pack about — well about how Max had come to you because he was injured.” Charles nods. “I think Max wants to prove that no he hadn’t come to you to get treatment but because —” Sophie trails off.

Charles ducks his head down, weighing his options but he didn’t need to think long before asking the question that had been burning him. “Why did he come to me?” 

Sophie gives him a knowing look. She can probably see through what Charles was really asking — Does Max like me too? Does he want to court me? Does he —

“I’m afraid you have to ask him that, Charles.” She says instead. 

Charles sighs. “He never answers anything properly.”

“Hm, maybe you aren’t asking the right questions.” She simply offers.

Fair.

Charles had never outright asked “Why did we stop being friends? Why did you come back into my life? Why are you courting Ollie? And — Why do you look like you are hiding something from me?”

He hadn’t asked because he was scared of the reply. But maybe — just maybe he should. 

“I know you both will work it out.” Sophie speaks up once more. “You will always come back to each other.”

He doesn’t get to stay with Max at his home like he would have preferred. Instead he’s back at the medical hut after Seb was called for an “emergency council meeting.” 

Charles wanted to call Jos out for his hypocrisy. The medical hut hadn’t been this busy since the last border conflict and yet, somehow, this so-called emergency took priority. He had called on Seb for what was probably a stupid discussion about how they were eating away at their supplies or whatever other reason Jos would find to blame them for.

Sometimes Charles just didn’t understand the blind animosity the council had for them.

Sophie reassured him just before he left that once Max awakes both of them would leave and thanked him profusely. Charles also asked her to bring the alpha back for a check up. 

Now, back in the thick of the chaos, Charles is immediately greeted by none other than Carlos. Who was now thankfully awake and looking considerably less smug than usual. 

Swallowing down his personal feelings, Charles approaches the alpha’s cot, professionalism settling over him like a second skin. 

If the alpha hadn’t insisted on winning the race for him then maybe all this madness could have been avoided.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, checking firstly on his head injury.

Carlos groans, trying to sit up so Charles helps him the rest of the way, propping up a pillow behind his head. “What the fuck happened?” He asks, clutching his head.

Charles keeps the snarky comments to himself about how Carlos was just stupid enough to go against Max but his grandmother had always told him to treat patients with utmost respect no matter how much of a dick they are in general. 

So he swallows all the words he would like to spit and instead says.

“Blunt force trauma to the head. Gave you a concussion as well. But nothing to worry about now. We gave you a heavy dose of painkillers. It knocked you out for a few hours.” Charles answers and starts unwrapping the cotton around the alpha’s head for redressing. “I’m just going to apply more salve.” 

Carlos, satisfied with the answer, looks around the medical hut like he’s taking stock of everything. 

“Where is Max?” He eventually questions.

Charles briefly falters but composes himself and continues his job.

But Carlos, mistaking his non-answer for resistance, begins to roll his shoulders and flex as if itching for a reaction. “I know I got him good too. He should be in here getting treatment.”

The words are like a shot of ice water down Charles’ spine.

Ah. So it was Carlos who had attacked Max.

Charles rolls his eyes. Of course Carlos wasn’t asking out of concern but out of some sick displeasure that the wounds he’d inflicted on Max hadn’t landed him at the medical hut. 

He would love to tell Carlos that whatever he thinks he’d done to Max was nothing compared to what Max had done to him. But alas patient confidentiality was also something his grandmother had grilled into him so he carefully says. “Well he’s not here. Now —” He grabs the salve and waves it in front of Carlos. “This is going to hurt.”

And if he dabbed just a tad harder than necessary, well that was just payback for injuring Max.

“Fuck! Be gentle.” Carlos hisses.

“I am.” Charles argues. Then — “Not my fault you can’t handle it.”

The alpha turns to glare at him and then cocks an eyebrow. A cruel smile spreads across his face despite the pain. “You and Max won’t get away with this.”

It sounds like a thinly veiled threat, a warning. Charles paused what he was doing. “What the hell do you mean?” He asks, a bit perturbed. 

“Just Christian isn’t going to sit by while his son gets humiliated. He’ll put pressure on Jos.” 

Charles hesitates. Surely…not? 

What if the council decides to take it out on Max somehow? Maybe he could talk to Ollie and convince him —

“Max is not the one you need to worry about.” Carlos says as if he could somehow read his thoughts. “He’s the future Head Alpha after all.” He spits the words, like acknowledging Max as their future leader was upsetting him. “You however — who would stand up for you?”

Charles stares at the alpha. His thoughts were taking a dangerous turn. 

He hadn’t really thought about what this could all mean for him. Sure he would be the gossip of the pack for the next few days, maybe weeks but he might’ve foolishly thought that could be the end of it. 

Could the council come after him? More importantly — would Max stand up for him if it came to that?

His silence grants permission for Carlos to continue. “You should’ve chosen me, you know. I would’ve protected you.” He says, in some kind of sickly sweet tone that was making all of his hackles rise.

Carlos carefully reaches a hand out and touches Charles’ own, intertwining their fingers. Charles wanted to pull back immediately, he really did. But he was — frozen in fear? No. He was just frozen. 

His thoughts were slow and syrupy. His earlier panic was entirely forgotten.

The alpha’s hand moves up, caressing his wrist now, where his scent gland was. Carlos was — was scenting him?

“Max has Ollie remember. Do you really think he would cast aside Ollie for you? ”

The grip on Charles’ wrist tightens, fingers digging in enough to bruise. There’s a bitterness in Carlos’ tone now. 

“It’s not too late still. I can be your alpha.” He adds, voice lowering to a purr.

The thought alone had him lurching but his feet were planted to the ground. He couldn’t move a muscle. 

Panic surges in him because Carlos was – he was using his alpha voice? But he can’t – that was wrong . It was –

Low. Commanding. Coated in pheromones meant to subdue and compel.

But that wasn’t allowed. 

Charles felt violated. Like his mind was no longer entirely his own, his body trapped in place with his motor skills reduced to what the alpha in front of him demanded.

Carlos uses the grip on his wrist to guide his hand up, up, up to his lips. The ghost of his breath landing on his scent gland. 

The alpha opens his mouth as if – as if he was going to bite —

“Is everything okay here?” 

Seb’s voice pulls him out of the haze he’d fallen into with Carlos jerking back and dropping his wrist in the process.

As soon as the alpha’s touch is gone, Charles stumbles forward like a puppet cut off their strings. He takes a gasping breath and confirms all his senses are back under his control before he — rages.

“What the fuck Carlos?” He growls. “You fucking controlled me?!”

Charles doesn't know how loud he was, how much the others heard. He does not give a single fuck in that moment. 

The alpha had dared use his alpha voice on him, something that was banned and shunned.

Carlos looks momentarily struck at the volume, snarling at him but Charles doesn’t let him get a word out before he warns. “Do that again and I will make sure you are useless for the rest of your fucking miserable life.” 

He ignores the wide eyes of Seb and the hard stare from Carlos to step outside. He needed a fucking moment. 

“Charles —” Seb calls as he chases after him. “What happened in there?” 

“He, just I don’t know – controlled me for a second? I think he used his voice.” 

Charles had heard of alphas being able to do that before. Their voice induced with whatever the hell and just like that they had omegas under their control. It wasn’t proven, nor studied since it was so rare but to think — to think Charles had first hand experienced that? He was seething. 

He was so fucking angry he could go back in there and rip Carlos’ throat out. Being a healer be damned!

Seb looked appropriately shocked. “How – ? That is a serious accusation, are you sure?”

“Of course!” Charles spits. “He fucking touched my wrist but I just – I couldn’t shake him off.” 

Seb runs both hands through his hair, clearly overwhelmed by the information.

“That damn alpha.” Seb says. “Let’s make a complaint. He can’t get away with this!”

Charles lets out a bitter laugh. “And how would I prove it? It will be his word against mine and who do you think the elders would favour?” 

Seb let out a frustrated groan. The beta knows how this hierarchy works, Charles doesn’t need to tell him that when push comes to shove, Charles would be the one to be shoved aside. 

“Besides. It’s not like anything actually happened.” Charles mumbles.

The silence that follows feels too loud. Both weighed down by the implications of how little power they actually had.

“Something is definitely  happening Charles.” Seb starts tentatively. “At the meeting today they were grilling me about our operations and how we manage the allotted budgets.”

Charles furrows his brows. That sure was weird. Seb mentioned how he usually had to speak up multiple times before someone even paid attention to him. 

“Maybe that’s a good thing? After the race yesterday, maybe they are willing to reconsider how dire the medical hut conditions are?” Charles adds. 

The beta shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. They were asking more about how we barter and get our supplies than worrying about our complaints. I just – it was like they were trying to find something?” Seb insists. 

Charles has a sinking feeling. A gut instinct that something bigger was at play here.

With his thoughts still clouded with the events of the morning, he ends his shift earlier than normal. 

After his little altercation with Carlos, thankfully Esteban had taken over to re-dress the wound.  But the tension hung around the medical hut like a thick fog and everyone seemed to hold their breaths when interacting with him. Charles still helped as much as he could with the other patients ignoring how every glimpse of Carlos was riling him up.

He just hoped by the time he goes in tomorrow the alpha would be discharged. 

He heads toward the kitchens, rubbing the back of his neck as the ache of exhaustion and lack of sleep finally settles in. The line for food rations is shorter than usual, a small mercy. When it’s his turn Maya hands him a small cloth bundle.

“This is it?” He asks, brows furrowing as he peers down at the meager pile of grains and wilted vegetables. It was barely enough for three days, let alone a whole week. He didn’t even get any meat.

Maya offers an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Charles. The hunt last week didn’t go well and harvest has been pretty bad too. We were told to be conservative with portions.”

That much he could believe in. There were many winters where they went without food for days on end. He wouldn’t complain about not getting enough when the whole pack was struggling.

But as he glances around, it’s obvious not everyone is being asked to ration. The beta next to him is handed a portion nearly double his own, complete with fresh cuts of meat and vibrant greens. 

He doesn’t even need to ask. He already knows who is behind all of this.

Maya notices his gaze and leans in slightly, her voice pleading. “Don’t make it harder for us. I’m sorry.”

Right. Of course.

Just as he swallows down his frustration and turns to leave, a voice beside him speaks up.

“Give him half of mine.”

The sweet scent of vanilla wafts into his senses before the familiar form of Ollie steps up next to him.

“Ollie?” Maya blinks in surprise.

“Hey Maya. Can you give him half of my rations too?.” He repeats. 

“Ollie it’s okay –” Charles interjects quickly. 

But Ollie shakes his head firmly. “No. It’s not okay. Your help is invaluable to the pack so giving you proper food is the least we can do.”

Charles stares at him, caught between gratitude and guilt. 

He’d been meaning to speak to Ollie and explain the events that transpired last night and — while Charles didn’t really have an explanation, he could at least reassure the other omega that nothing had happened between him and Max. 

Maya quietly steps forward and swaps his small cloth bundle with a larger one.

Charles nods gratefully, before clearing his throat, clutching the package to his chest like a lifeline. “Ollie.” He starts hesitantly. “Are you… okay?”

Ollie doesn’t respond at first. He’s watching Charles, gaze contemplative but soft. Then he lets out a small sigh and offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah.” He says. “I spoke with Max.”

That makes Charles freeze. “You did?”

Ollie nods. “This morning. He told me what happened. Or at least, enough of it.”

Charles’ mouth opens, then closes again. He looks down at the bundle in his hands. “Oh. I don’t —”

“You don’t have to explain.” Ollie cuts in gently. “It’s okay, Charles. I’m not mad at you.” 

Charles meets Ollie’s gaze, searching for something. Jealousy, hurt, guilt — just anything. 

“Are you mad at Max?” Charles couldn’t help ask.

Ollie takes longer to respond this time but when he does, there’s a quiet understanding behind his words. 

“I trust Max.” 

It was said so simply. Trust.

Charles forces a smile even as his insides twist painfully. He grips the bundle of food tighter than necessary, knuckles pale against the coarse cloth.

He couldn’t remember the last time he trusted someone else wholeheartedly. Probably not since his grandmother had passed. 

Max used to be that person for him. Someone he could blindly trust but now — he didn’t know where he stood anymore. Didn’t know if the alpha’s gaze, their old jokes, the way Max always seemed to end up at his side, if any of that still meant something. 

Or if it had ever meant anything at all. 

Charles tries not to let the bitterness rise in his throat, tries not to let it bleed into his scent. He knows Ollie will catch it and he didn’t have the mental capacity to explain himself. So instead Charles mumbles another hollow thanks and rushes out of there.

A few days later, after another exhausting shift at the medical hut, Charles makes the slow walk back to his hut. He’s halfway up the stairs when a familiar scent of sea salt halts him just outside his door. 

Max?

Frowning, he pushes the door open to find said alpha waiting inside. 

“Max?” He greets quietly, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you asked me to come?” Max questions back. “And your door was unlocked.”

Charles wasn’t normally that irresponsible. But after everything that’s been happening around him, he really couldn’t be blamed for forgetting things. 

Yesterday he’d even forgotten how to brew the simplest of cough syrup and had to refer back to his notebook.

Plus it wasn’t like there were valuables to steal from his humble abode anyway.

“Must've forgotten to lock it.” He mumbles, trudging the rest of the way inside. 

Max tsks at him, expectedly. “You need to be more careful.” He admonished.

Charles waves away his concern. Truly not in the mood for this.

“So you asked for me to come?” Max says once more, thankfully changing the topic.

Remembering how he’d told Sophie to bring the alpha back rings in his mind.

Though he intended her to bring and not send Max alone, he assumes their Head Omega had other things to deal with than accompanying her grown son to medical appointments. 

Still, being in the same space with the other alpha was not exactly in his plans after the day, no, week he’s had.

“That’s not exactly what I asked.” Charles mutters under his breath, running a tired hand through his hair. “But since you’re here, sit down. I’ll check on your stitches.”

“Oh.” Max pauses. “You called me for this?”

“What else then?” Charles replies. “You’ve been taking the herbs I gave you?” He asks while gathering some salve and fresh cotton.

Max hums in affirmation. “Even the stupidly bitter ones.” 

The alpha dutifully sits on the cot and strips off his upper layers while Charles gathers his supplies.

Unprompted, Sophie’s words revolve around his head — apparently he just needed to ask the right questions to get the right answers.

They were alone here in Charles’ hut, no distractions, Max can’t walk away mid treatment so he would be forced to answer any of his questions. He can choose to not answer, of course, but then that would just give Charles the confirmation he needed. 

Charles could slowly ease Max into a conversation. Maybe finally get the alpha to crack.

He kneels beside Max, trying not to let his eyes linger too much on the half naked alpha’s chest, arms and stomach and deftly peels back the bandages.

“It’s healing well —”

“Wait.” Max says sharply, cutting him off mid sentence. 

Charles pauses and glances up. “What?”

“Your wrist.” Max reaches out before Charles can pull back. His fingers wrapping around it and eyes narrowing as he pulls Charles’ sleeve up to reveal the faint bruising beneath the surface. 

The purplish hue stark against the pale skin of his wrist. The mark that Carlos had left behind. 

Charles tries to tug it back. “It’s nothing.”

“What happened?” Max urges, his grip tightening a bit.

Charles sighs, tension gathering in his shoulders as he looks away. “It’s not important.”

“Don’t do that.” Max says, his voice on edge. “Someone clearly did this to you on purpose. It doesn’t seem like an accident.”

“Leave it.” Charles snaps before he can stop himself, bitterness rising in him.

There Max goes again with his stupid mixed signals. Pretending like he cared.

Max falters at that but his grip on Charles’ wrist doesn’t loosen. Instead, his thumb brushes over the bruise. The touch almost gentle, soft.

“Was it Carlos?” He eventually asks. 

Charles doesn’t answer but the flinch in his expression says enough.

Max lets out a harsh breath and pulls Charles closer, resting their joined hands between them. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“How did you even know?” Charles asks back instead.

“I heard you guys fought at the medical hut — but Charles — this doesn’t seem like a few words thrown around. He hurt you.”

“And I’ve dealt with it.” Charles dismisses.

Max scoffs. “How exactly? I saw him in the council meeting this morning and he seemed fine.” 

Charles sighs. “I just – just warned him not to do it again.”

He knows how pathetic that sounds before he even says it. But what else was he supposed to do? 

Charles inherently knew what happened, Carlos knew too. But that alpha would never admit to it and Charles would be the one throwing around accusations without concrete evidence. 

That wouldn’t bode well for him. 

“Warned him? What the fuck Charles?” Max hisses. “He can’t just physically hurt you and you just warn him. How did this even happen? You couldn’t have screamed for help or something?” 

Charles bristles. 

Max was suggesting all of these things like he was stupid. Of course Charles would’ve created a scene, drawn attention if he could! But he couldn’t.

“I couldn’t!” He says, the words pulled from between his teeth. “He used his alpha voice.” Charles eventually confesses.

Something flashes in Max’s eyes. Barely restrained fury. His scent souring to that of a raging storm. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time and Charles almost doubts if Max had even heard what he said but eventually Max speaks up.

“I’ll deal with it.”

“No.” Charles rebuts firmly. “I don’t need you to do that. This all started because you wanted to play hero!” He spits.

“Charles —”

Charles doesn’t let him finish, just yanks his wrist out from the alpha’s grasp. 

Time to ask the right questions.

“Why did you join the race?”

Max blinks, looking like he was caught off guard. 

Charles doesn’t give him time. He barrels forward, needing the truth, needing something other than reading between the lines and making up his own theories about Max’s intentions. 

“Why did you join the race?” He repeats. “You knew Carlos was trying to win to — I don’t know – propose to me or something so why?”

Max opens his mouth, then shuts it again, jaw working silently as if he’s chewing on the weight of his own thoughts.

Charles watches him closely. Reading every flicker of emotion crossing the alpha’s face. He braces himself for a second then asks — “Did you do it for me ?”

He thinks Max would once again remain silent, evade his question but he does speak up.

“If it was up to me, things would’ve gone differently.”

This more than anything just riles him up even more. This non-answer.

It’s been a long tiring week for him.

With Seb constantly out and Esteban’s lack of experience, his shifts at the medical hut were becoming longer and longer. Not to mention the constant whispers that tend to follow him anytime he so much as showed his face in pack areas. 

Charles hadn’t had proper time to catch up with Lando or even say goodbye to Pierre when he’d left. 

So no. Charles didn’t have time for Max and his vague answers anymore.

The race and its aftermath, Carlos and even the fact that Max was courting another all fell secondary to the most important question of them all. 

The fact that Max had chosen to cut off their friendship initially.

A bond that Charles had come to treasure the most was cut off in a way that he still couldn’t fully understand.

He’d convinced himself that Max noticed their difference in standings amongst the Red Bull pack and decided to not associate with him because of that. 

The alpha needed strong alliances if he were to lead this pack one day and strong alliances meant having a mate who had those connections. 

It was pack politics. It was easy to understand.

But then why would Max risk all of the progress he’d made just to come back into Charles’ life? Why would he risk his own life to enter a race? 

Something bigger was at play here.

There had to be another reason why Max pulled away from him initially. 

“Max. I’m going to ask you something and I need you to answer me or else — what little trust I have in you will be gone.” Charles speaks slowly, careful to keep his tone steady.

He takes a deep breath, then asks — “Why did you stop talking to me when we presented?”

Max’s shoulders tense almost immediately and he doesn’t speak right away. Just looks at Charles. Something raw and painful in his expression. 

“ Charlie —”

Charles shakes his head, firm. “Answer me.” 

“I didn’t have a choice.” Max says, again.  

It’s the same answer Charles has heard before. The answer that almost led to a catastrophic fall out. 

Charles had almost given up after Max had said those words. The only reason there was still a sparkle of hope was because of the race. 

As much as Charles thought the notion reckless, Max had come to him. That had to mean something. 

He’s always known the only person with enough power to make Max conform was his father. He hesitates but pushes anyway.

“Is it Head Alpha? Is he threatening you?” 

“Something like that.” Max replies, evasive.

Again. A cryptic answer.

Charles pauses then decides to take a risk. He’s avoided this question for years, danced around it out of respect but now — now he needs clarity.

“Was it — was it because of what happened with the um,  border conflict six years ago?”

As expected Max looks wrecked at the reminder. 

Charles truly hates himself for bringing it up but it did seem after that event Max had completely changed beyond recognition.

“Max, please. You know you can tell me.” He gently says, hoping the alpha would at least respond instead of the silence he was being subjected to.

“It’s not about that .” Max whispers, his voice barely audible. “At least – I don’t think so.” 

“Max —” 

“Drop it Charles.”

There was an edge to Max’s voice now. But Charles doesn’t get it. He knew grieving more intimately than anyone. Why wouldn’t Max just confide in him for once?

“I'm just trying to understand —” He begins.

Max lets out a frustrated groan and leaned back, turning his face toward the ceiling once more.

“I thought you were supposed to check on my stitches.” He muttered, clearly trying to shift the topic of the conversation.

The dodge was so blatant. So transparently evasive. That it irked Charles more than any of Max’s previous deflections.

“You can go to Seb or Esteban for that.” Charles grits. “And they’ll be the only ones who will ever treat you, if you keep refusing to talk to me like this.”

The alpha kept staring at the ceiling like it could provide him guidance. There was an obvious conflict raging in Max’s mind even as his face stayed blank. 

“You once told me everything.” 

Charles knows it sounds desperate. Like he was begging, grovelling for Max to tell him. But it was clear Max was hurting. As much as Max had hurt him too, he was willing to give his childhood friend this once last chance. 

The alpha still doesn’t reply.

He’s losing hope now. Maybe the Max he knew is gone and he needed to let go.

It leaves some kind of a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Like he wasted all this time hoping, praying that if he could just get to Max then his childhood friend would be back.

Maybe a part of Charles is selfish too for wanting the old Max back. Maybe a part of him refused to let go because this was the last part of the life he used to know and love.

“You broke the promise you gave to Mamie.” Charles whispers brokenly.

He hadn’t said it to hurt Max but just a gentle reminder, in case the alpha had forgotten that once upon a time, they were six and they swore to look out for each other. 

Charles in a way was also breaking that promise but only because Max was refusing him.

There’s a brief crack in Max’s expression, a quiet sort of pain but then — resignation. 

Max doesn’t look at him when he finally says. 

“She was cruel to ask me that when I was six.” 

Charles' heart shatters but Max isn't finished. 

The alpha looks at him now.

“She was cruel to ask me that only to then make me promise to stay away from you.”

Chapter Text

“Reddish fur,  that’s — different.” Max remarked absently, lying flat on his back with his arms folded behind his head, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky.

Charles shuffled beside him, pulling awkwardly at the loose tunic draped over his frame. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. Curling in on himself like he wanted to disappear. 

There was a weird tightness in his chest, a constant heat that was burning up his body that had nothing to do with the summer sun.

He felt strange –

It was rare for him to feel this self-conscious, especially around Max. But now? He felt exposed. Vulnerable.

“Was it… ugly?” He mumbled. 

Max turned his head lazily, eyes drifting toward him for a brief second. His expression unreadable. He seemed distant. 

“I never said that.” He replied flatly. 

“You said it was different.” Charles points out.

A pause. Then a hum from Max. Noncommittal. Like he hadn’t really heard the question.

“Well?” Charles pushed. “Is it good different or bad different?”

Max didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the sky and for a moment Charles thought he wouldn’t answer at all.

“Good, of course.”

Charles frowned, his lips curling into a small disappointed pout. He just revealed his true form to Max. Even his grandmother hadn’t seen it yet. It had meant something.

This was supposed to be a special moment. Sacred. Intimate and yet –

Max was acting so indifferent. 

He turned away, biting back the sting of disappointment.

It was odd to describe the process of shifting. 

One day he was just existing, everything was normal and then he got this sudden burning sensation. Hot flushes everywhere, his senses grating at every inch of him. 

Everything had felt overwhelming. 

Pierre’s voice, the scent of herbs, the gentle breeze and even the subtle brush of his own clothing against his skin had Charles wanting to rip it off. 

It was then Charles had recognised the signs. He needed to shift.

The feeling scared him at first but he knew Max had already been through this and would probably be able to help. 

Charles had rushed to find Max only to find out he had been sent on a hunt. So Charles went through the process alone. 

Charles found himself an empty meadow at the edge of their pack grounds. It was the middle of the night, completely deserted. It was safe. 

He leaned into his senses, finally letting his body take over. 

It hurt. Of course it hurt, like a thousand pins prickling his skin. 

But it wasn’t just pain, it was transformation. 

It felt like Charles could endure this momentary pain for something bigger and better. So he pushed through, screaming, scratching and then suddenly — It was pure bliss.

When he stood on four legs for the first time and looked down at paws instead of hands, he felt something indescribable. Raw. Whole. Real.

His first thought, no his first instinct, was — I need to tell Max.

He’d been so excited to tell Max. Share this part with him.

But since he’d found Max this morning to show him, his friend looked dull. Almost sounded bored.

He’d been acting weird lately. More distant, less – happier?

Charles didn’t know how to reach him. He’d thought that sharing this intimate part of him — him in his true wolf form would connect them more. But instead he got this mediocre reaction from Max.

“Shifting means presentation soon.” Max says, seemingly out of the blue.

Charles glanced at him, resting his cheek against his knees, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his tunic. “Yeah.” He murmured and then after a beat of hesitation added. “I’m excited for that.”

Max stares at him for a long time. His blue eyes so sad.

“Things will change Charlie.”

The thought about things changing made Charles giddy though.

There was something there between them – something more than friendship. Charles had been feeling it for a while.

The way Max’s presence felt different now. How butterflies swam in his stomach when his friend smiled at him, how a brush of hands had him stuttering.

He doesn’t know how Max felt but Charles didn’t think it was a reach to say that maybe Max had felt the same.

Max had always been protective over him, almost possessive. Everyone who saw found it very endearing, cooed over what an adorable couple they’d make. 

Sebastian, the beta who’d recently started working with his grandmother at the medical hut, often teased them, calling Max a “love sick puppy.”

Charles had been the one to blush, to scoff, to hide behind his hands when people joked.

Max never shied away though. He didn’t just tolerate the teasing, he leaned into it. Encouraged it almost. Smiling smugly. Sometimes draping an arm around Charles like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But that was then and now Max felt far away.

Not visibly. Not overtly. But it was there. A quiet distance. A pulling back.

Was this the change Max had meant?

If changes meant Max would pull away from him then he didn’t want it. 

“Things can’t change between us.” Charles says with a conviction that even surprises him. “Well except —” He trails off, biting his lip.

“Except?” Max repeats. 

Charles can feel a warm flush spread over his cheeks. 

Does he just say it? Confess his feelings?

Everyone knew Max would present as an alpha sooner rather than later and Charles would follow close behind with his own presentation. 

Once they officially came into their secondary genders, they could start courting.

Although Charles didn’t need much. He would happily mate with Max as soon as he’s asked. But maybe they didn’t even need to wait for presentation, maybe Charles didn’t even need to wait until Max asked, he could just —

Max lets out a bitter laugh. “People change all the time. You never know what can happen.”

“What are you trying to —”

Before Charles could question further, a shout echoes from the opening of the meadow. 

“Oy Max!” 

Max springs up from his lazy sprawl at the voice, his face breaking out into a wide grin when he recognises who it is.

“Daniel!” Max called, practically sprinting towards the figure emerging from the treeline. His friend didn’t miss a beat before promptly throwing himself into Daniel’s open arms.

Charles stood too, brushing bits of grass from his tunic. He followed at a slower pace, watching the two embrace like long lost brothers. Which, Charles supposes in a way they were. Daniel had been away for so long for pack negotiations, it had been forever since they last saw him.

A small pang settled low in Charles’ stomach watching the two interact. Not quite jealousy but of what he seemed to bring out in Max. Lightness. Joy. The version of Max that Charles had missed lately.

“Charlie boy!” Daniel called over Max’s shoulder with that signature grin that seemed to light up everything around him.

Charles smiled despite himself as Daniel pulled him into a hug that nearly lifted him off the ground.

“When did you get back?” Max asks excitedly as Daniel sets him back down.

“Just now.” The alpha replies, just as chirpy. “More importantly —” Daniel narrows his eyes at the both of them and Charles knew what was coming before he’d even said it. “What are you two boys doing? Hiding away – all alone?”

The question was emphasised with a wiggle of his brows. The insinuation loud and clear.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Max says, adding fuel to the fire.

Daniel cackles loudly. His face morphing into mock offense. “How scandalous! I hope you are using protection though.” 

Max sputters, seemingly choking on nothing while Charles feels like his whole entire body is on fire.

“Shut up!” Max finally swats at Daniel, his own puffy cheeks turning a bright red.

Daniel easily dodged the playful swat, his grin softening into something more gentle. “I’m just teasing. I need to go see our father but after that I’m all free!”

Max lit up, brighter than Charles had seen so far. “Then I have to show you the new pack building. Oh! Charles and I can shift now! And –”

“Slow down, Maxie.” Daniel laughed, ruffling his younger brother’s hair. “We’ve got time. I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

With that Daniel turned and walked off.

Charles watched them both, a warm smile tugging at his lips. Maybe the Max he’d been missing hadn’t disappeared after all. Maybe he’d just been waiting for his older brother’s steady presence to be himself again.

Charles couldn’t condemn him for that.

“Charlie.” Max said suddenly.

Charles turned to him, humming in acknowledgment.

Max met his gaze, his expression unexpectedly earnest. “Red suits you…you’re the most beautiful wolf I’ve ever seen.”

The words hit like a soft gust of wind — a gentle caress but still enough to leave Charles breathless.

“I promised her I’d stay away from you.” 

The words take a few moments before Charles can fully comprehend them. 

“W-what? I don’t —” He stammers, trying to make sense of what Max had just revealed. 

Max exhales, sitting upright on the cot. “I wasn’t ever going to tell you but it is — was what she wanted.” 

Charles doesn’t get it. He just does not understand. 

Charles’ grandmother had always supported them, encouraged their bond, smiled knowingly when Max would linger too long at nights or when Charles would light up at the sound of Max’s voice. 

She had held Charles when he cried after Max had begun to pull away from him and had whispered reassurances that it would all be okay.

She wouldn’t ask that of him. Not when she knew how important Max was to him.

There’s no question about it. Max was —

“You are lying.” His voice shakes despite his best effort to keep it level.

Max doesn’t seem angry at the accusation, just defeated.   He just sits there, shoulders hunched, eyes tired. Like he’s been carrying this weight for years and had always known the moment would come crashing down like this.

“I’m not Charlie.” Max says softly. “I know it’s hard to understand but I made my promise to her and I intend to keep it.”

Charles is suddenly more disappointed than confused now. Because was this just Max using his grandmother, someone Charles loved and cherished more than anyone, as an excuse? It wasn’t like Charles could confirm with her, given she was no longer in this world.

He takes a step back, the air in the room suddenly feeling too heavy. “I don’t believe you.” Charles whispers. “Why – she knew I — why would she ask that?”

Max rises slowly, reaching out. Charles wants to recoil, flinch away from the alpha’s touch but his body stays rooted. His legs won’t carry him. 

So he lets Max take his hand. The alpha carefully cradles his wrist, the one still mottled with bruises and guides him toward the cot. Charles follows, still unsteady, not trusting himself to stand without falling.

Charles sits down stiffly, eyes unfocused, breath a little shallow. The cot dips slightly beneath their weight as Max also settles beside him. Careful to not get too close. 

Max was still holding his hand. 

“I don’t expect you to believe me.” Max begins quietly. “I just — she said it was to protect you and I – I couldn’t say no to her.”

Charles stares down at their hands. His fingers tremble slightly in Max’s hold but he doesn’t pull away.

“But why?” Charles asks again, begs really. 

“Because I will be the Head Alpha.” 

Charles furrows his brows. They obviously knew that. Had known since —

“But you were never supposed to be one.” Charles continues his trail of thought. 

Max nods, a bittersweet smile taking over his features.

Charles knew that his grandmother had a complicated relationship with the pack leaders, mainly the Head Alpha. But that wasn’t hard to understand, most had an issue with the way Jos Verstappen led their pack. 

His single-minded, almost dictator way of ruling over them had seen them in more dire situations than was strictly necessary.

Jos and the pack leaders were power hungry, always had the same goal of expanding the Red Bull pack as much as they could. Which meant border conflicts, waging wars on random packs and in return, making many enemies along the way.

Charles could imagine how hard it was for his grandmother to watch the pack she’d grown up in, spent her entire life in, ransacked and burned to the ground, only to then end up in a pack like Red Bull that did the same to other packs. 

He also doubts the only reason his grandmother let them stay in Red Bull for this long was because of all the attachments Charles had made. 

There were many times she had suggested moving to another place and even on her death bed she’d asked that he should try to mate outside of this pack if he could.

So yes, it wasn’t a surprise to see her grandmother be so against the ways this pack was run. 

But that was all under Jos’ leadership, Max would be different. 

He wouldn’t go down the same bloodied path his father walked on. 

Charles may not be close with Max anymore but this much he could guarantee and trust. 

“She must’ve been scared.” Charles begins slowly, lifting his gaze to make eye contact with Max. “You could’ve just told her you would be different. That — that you are not your father.” 

The alpha averts his eyes, looking off to the side. “I figured it would be for the better anyway.” He admits.

Charles shucks in a harsh breath. “W-what? What do you mean?”

Max nibbles on his lips, his scent souring to a raging storm. 

“Whatever you think you know of our family, just know they are worse than that.” Max spits, his voice on edge. His tone then softens just a tad when he finally looks at Charles. “You are too pure for all this.” 

“Well that would be my choice!” He argues. “Which you or apparently my grandmother had never bothered to give me.” 

“Charles —”

“I don’t want to hear another stupid excuse about knowing what’s best for me Max. You made me think —” His voice cracks dangerously, tears threatening to fall but Charles doesn’t let them. Charles is more furious than sad right now and while he was notorious for letting angry tears fall, Max doesn’t deserve to see him like that. The alpha no longer had the privilege to see him fall apart. “You made me think you hated me and I – I may have done something wrong!” He spits. ‘Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

The alpha was still holding his hand, cradling it like it was something precious. Charles pulled away as if Max’s touch burned and in a way it did.

This bitterness rising in him was — betrayal. 

That’s what this new found information does to him. He feels betrayed. By Max, By his grandmother.

If his grandmother had made Max promise him that, why didn’t the alpha just tell him so? Why did he have to leave him in the dark for so long?

“Because —” Max begins, looking devastated at needing to have this conversation right now. “Because then I would’ve had to admit to all the other things my father had done and I – just wasn’t —  ready.”

So Max and his grandmother had known something about Jos, just decided it was better for Charles to not know and let him suffer in his misery alone.

“I would’ve understood.” Charles doesn’t miss a beat to say. And it was the truth. Without knowing what was hidden from him, Charles knew he would’ve been there for Max.

Back then he’d been devoted to the alpha, thought of him to be the one who would be with him till the end.

It was them against everybody. Them against the world. Always.

But maybe it was Charles who had felt like that. Maybe to Max, he’d always been an outsider.

Max could’ve told him he murdered someone and Charles would’ve accompanied him to bury the body. 

That was his trust in Max. That was his loyalty. That was his love.

This Max, five years on out, was not the same anymore so he deserved none of that. 

“You could’ve told me anything and I would have taken your side.” He adds. 

Max’s expression crumples, stricken. “I know you would’ve.” He says, voice soft, full of ache. “And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“What?” Charles asks, breath unsteady.

Max hesitated. His scent shifts to something more sour and sharp, full of distress. Then he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Daniel, he —”

Just then a sudden, sharp knock cuts through the room, loud enough to make both of them flinch. It echoed just once and then the door crashed open before Charles could even take a breath, let alone respond.

Pack members, at least five of them, barrelled their way inside. Their eyes immediately landed on Max and Charles. Or rather the compromising position the both were in.

With Max half naked, their bodies barely separated on his small cot and not to mention they were alone in his hut.

Max pushes up at once. His eyes narrow, flicking to each intruder in turn.

“What’s going on?”

The others glance at each other. Finally, Nico, an older alpha, speaks up, voice tentative. “Max, the Head Alpha wanted us to find you immediately. We didn’t think you’d be… preoccupied.”

“Nico – what the fuck? How did you even know I was here? And you just burst in like this? What the hell?” Max snaps, visibly flustered.

Frankly, Charles felt the same way. Urgency was one thing but barging in like this? Something felt off.

“Max.” Gabi, a younger alpha, explains carefully. “They think a few Aston Martin wolves have infiltrated the pack. We were told you could be in danger.”

“What? What do you mean, Aston Martin sent — ”

“No time. It’s good to see you safe.” Nico interrupts sharply, flicking a wary glance toward Charles. “We think they have Newey. We need to go now and think of a plan immediately.”

Charles stiffens at the look. Once again reminded of the compromising position they were in and how the news would probably spread easily amongst the rest of the pack now.

But the more pressing matter was having foreign werewolves in their territory. 

This wasn’t the first time strangers had made their way past their border petrols but it had also been a long time. 

His worst fear was coming true. Half of their young alphas were still recovering from their latest injuries and their defense system would be significantly weak. If an attack was coming — 

But he’d heard of Aston Martin, they weren’t enemies. Not as far as he knew. Kidnapping Adrian Newey, one of their pack leaders, was as grave as it sounded.

Who knew what the other packs demands would be.

Max exhales sharply. “Shit – I’ll come. Just give me a minute.”

As quickly as they arrived, the pack members filed out, leaving behind a pounding silence and the strange tension from their earlier conversation still lingering.

“Charles, I need to go.”

Charles nods, jaw tight. He understands — truly he does. This was a much more important situation and no matter how important their own conversation was, Max was needed for pack duties and that always came first. 

“I know.” He says quietly. “Just be – careful.”

Max gives him a long look, like he wants to say more but the moment slips through his fingers. Duty rings louder than whatever they have going on.

The alpha quickly shrugs his tunic on and he’s halfway to the door when Charles speaks again, barely above a whisper.

“We’re not done yet! We need to speak again.”

Max stops, hand on the frame and nods once without turning back. “I know.”

Charles hadn’t even gotten to check on how the gash on Max’s side was healing. 

This was weird.

No, not weird but suspicious. 

Last night, the council members had stormed in like the sky was falling. With loud exclamations about a possible infiltration, enemy wolves slipping past their borders, chaos straining just beneath the surface and a potential for another border conflict on the horizon. 

But this morning?

Everything was calm. Too calm.

The pack moved with its usual rhythm, as though nothing significant had happened. No extra guards. No whispers. No tension in the air. It was as if the warnings from the night before had been nothing but a dream.

Maybe the council had chosen to keep things quiet, to avoid inciting panic? Or maybe the situation had been handled behind the scenes?

Either way, his walk from home to the medical hut was serene, almost peaceful. The early morning sun shimmered golden in the sky, the leaves rustling gently in the breeze. Birds chirped overhead with the sun offering a surprising warmth for this time of year.

He hadn’t seen a single pack member on the way over. No worried faces. No patrols doubling up. Nothing.

And yet, Nico’s words from the night before echoed sharply in his head — “We think they have Newey.”

That kind of move should’ve sent panic through the entire pack. Fear. Strategy meetings. Reinforcements. And yet — nothing.

Everyone else seemed blissfully unaware.

And that was exactly what made Charles uneasy.

He takes the longer route to the medical hut, deliberately walking towards the centre of the pack where the council building was, just to gauge the situation. But a small peek inside and it was empty.

Charles takes a controlling breath in and holds it for a moment before letting it out — how weird.

He’s caught lingering around the building by none other than Oscar, the alpha looking like he was coming back from a late night patrol. 

“Charles?” Oscar approaches. “What’s going on?”

“Oscar, hi.” He greets, then flicks his head towards the council building. “No news about Aston Martin?”

Oscar furrows his brows, appearing confused. “What about Aston Martin?”

Charles is also confused now. Oscar was part of the council and he looked to be on patrol last night. Surely he would’ve been alerted about any infiltrations. 

He silently gestures for Oscar to a more secluded area. “I heard Aston sent wolves and they sneaked into our pack last night?”

Oscar chuckles which annoyed him just a bit. What about this situation was funny?

“I can guarantee no such thing happened. I was up all night at the border.”

“But Newey —”

“Is probably at Aston Martin for negotiations.” Oscar finishes for him.

“What do you mean? He wasn’t taken by them?” 

Charles was sure Nico had alluded to Adrian Newey being kidnapped by Aston Martin and definitely not at the other pack on free will.

“Red Bull sent him a few days ago.” Oscar shrugs. “Aston aren’t exactly a threat to us but you know Jos, paranoid about all the wrong things, so he sent our best negotiator there.”

“What?” Charles hisses. “I didn’t — Max knew about this?”

Max had seemed just as concerned as him last night at the prospect of one of their pack leaders getting taken. Why would the alpha react in such a way if he knew?

“Max hasn’t exactly been welcome in recent council meetings. I doubt he knew.”

Panic, not the full blown one but something that starts small and becomes wholly consuming builds in him. He needed to see Max.

“Where — where is Max?” He asks a bit hysterically. 

“I haven’t seen him — but Charles are you okay?”

“I — I don’t know.” he answers honestly.

The words tumble out then. All of them. From the moment the members barged in yesterday night, to the strangeness of this morning and the knowledge that Max hadn’t known. He doesn’t stop until it’s all out, his hands in tight fists by his side.

Oscar listens silently, offering a steady comfort through it all. When Charles finally exhales, it's shakier than he expected but he feels lighter too after confiding in the other alpha.

Oscar places a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go to the medical hut and I ask around? Max would not be placed in unnecessary risk. He’s most likely fine.”

Charles just nods, feeling more tired than ever. But the logical approach from Oscar was helping and he feels just a tad more grounded. 

Charles decided to stop by at the kitchens for a quick breakfast before his shift would start. He was already agitated from last night and the knowledge of this morning, being empty stomach on top of everything was not going to help at all. 

The kitchen smelled of spiced broth and fresh bread, warm and familiar. But the atmosphere was anything but. 

As soon as he stepped in, the quiet clatter of dishes and muffled conversations died. Faces turned. Conversations halted before kicking up in renewed fervour. 

He kept his eyes down, wary and slightly feeling like he’d done something wrong. He headed straight for the food counter. “Morning Hana.” He greeted. “Is there any bread left?”

There would most definitely be bread at this time in the morning. Barely half of their pack was awake. But Charles also recalled the strange encounter a few days ago with his food rations. 

Part of the reason he’d even come down to the kitchens this morning instead of eating alone in his hut was to see if that silent message would repeat itself. To see if the treatment he’d received that day would become routine.

It had.

Hana didn’t greet him like she used to. She just placed a small piece of stale bread on a plate and pushed it forward, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Right.

Still, he was taught manners so he thanked her regardless.

“Thanks.” He murmurs and goes to find a quiet corner to munch on some cold, hard bread. He hadn’t been given any butter or jam either. 

He just chewed and swallowed and hoped the bread would dull the gnawing ache in his stomach and the deeper one that began blooming in his chest.

Charles was never a favourite within their pack. Never popular, coddled or fondly fussed over like the other omegas his age were. 

While the rest were doted on, their hair braided by elders or beckoned over to listen to scary stories by the bonfires, Charles stood at the edges, noticed only when necessary, spoken to only in passing.

It wasn’t hatred, not exactly. Not the kind you could recognise or point at. 

But it was something colder. Something quieter. A persistent dismissal that clung to him. 

His role in the pack had always given him a fragile kind of protection. Tenuous and delicate. 

As their healer, their medic, the only one who truly understood omega biology, Charles was needed. Valued, even but never fully accepted. They came to him with wounds to be treated, with complications no one else understood. In those moments respect and necessity shielded him.

But it was never more than that. Always a necessity. Not affection. Never true trust.

He'd known, deep down, that it wouldn’t take much for that tentative layer of acceptance to be stripped away. The pack members only needed some small, tiny reason to remind him where he really stood. That he was never quite one of them. Just close enough to be useful but always at arm’s length.

To isolate him and push him back into his true position within their pack — an outsider.

Charles couldn’t help but feel like they finally had one now. Whether it was fabricated didn't matter to them, what mattered was that they had a reason now.

He also couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Daniel had felt like. 

The other alpha wore a smile like a second skin. 

Daniel, with his easy grin and laughter that filled a room like sunshine, always seemed so effortlessly joyful. 

He cracked jokes in the darkest moments, carried conversations when tensions were high and knew exactly what to say to lift someone’s mood. 

Daniel had always smiled through his pain. When he’d arrive at the medical hut after gruesome hunts and difficult border patrols, Charles was often the one wincing and on the verge of tears watching the other alpha get treated by his grandmother. 

He was a strong alpha. And not just for his physical strength. 

But Charles had always noticed a quiet sense of sadness behind those deep brown eyes. Something only he felt like he’d noticed. 

The way the easy smile would slip off just slightly when Daniel’s mother was mentioned, how everyone would boast after the alpha returned from hunts victorious except that quiet proudness never came from his own father. 

Jos Verstappen’s son, Max’s half brother and abandoned by his birth mother. It was a reputation that haunted Daniel. 

A father who had never really wanted to accept him but was forced in some way because of the blood they shared.

Rumours spread that Daniel’s mother was a maid from another pack, one which Jos had been visiting and decided to indulge in. No one predicted that a little tryst would result in a pup being born. 

Not just any pup but a pup that shared their Head Alpha’s blood. 

Daniel had been the rightful next in line to lead their pack. But to the grievances of many of their pack elders.

Charles knew why of course. They all knew. 

Daniel was an outsider. Not pure Red Bull blood like Max was, like Charles wasn’t.

Still the alpha tried and tried and no one ever questioned where Daniel went when the laughter faded or how he bore the weight he carried alone. Once he fulfilled his duties, he was forgotten like footprints washed away by the tide.

Max was there of course. Moon-eyed and star struck by his big brother. But even Max’s quiet reverence never erased the pain Daniel must have gone through.

Charles imagines his life as somewhat of a cruel parallel to Daniel’s. 

Would he be cast aside at some point too? Would Max fail to protect Charles, like he had with Daniel? Was this why Max wanted to distance himself in the first place?

He just hoped that wherever Daniel was, he was safe and finally happy. 

Lost in his own thoughts, he doesn’t hear Lando until the omega quite literally materialises in front of him. 

“Earth to Charles!” Lando waves his hands around, trying to get his attention. 

Charles startles at the sudden presence as the other omega seats himself down. 

Lando takes a single glance down and wordlessly exchanges his sad piece of barely nibbled on bread for a warm one, fresh out the oven. He even pushes his bowl of soup towards Charles. 

Before he can even acknowledge the gesture, the other omega begins talking. “Cha. I’ve been trying to talk to you all morning! Where have you been? It has been a mess!” 

Charles assumes as much. The weird looks he’d been getting all morning, the not-so-subtle whispers? Yeah, it was easy to guess.

He picks up the bread, appreciating the warmth of it before tearing off a piece. “Let me guess everyone knows Max was in my hut last night?”

Lando blanches, goes pale as if he’s seen a ghost. “So it’s not a lie —” He seems to mumble to himself before glaring at Charles. “Are you stupid!? Why did you allow him inside? Why would you let yourself get caught? Why was he naked —”

“Half naked.” Charles gently intervenes. 

Lando’s eyes narrow further. “You think this is a joke? Do you know what people are saying?”

Charles sighs. 

Of course he doesn’t take this lightly. He was about to go from the pack’s gossip to the pack’s reject. Outcast. 

“Max told me it was Mamie who had apparently asked him to stay away from me.”

“Your grandmother?!” Lando’s eyes widened in disbelief. 

“Yeah.” Charles confirms. “I just — don’t understand why she would ask him that.”

“What if Max is lying?” Lando immediately rebuts. “I don’t trust him. He’s just always been — so insensitive towards others. Especially you.” The other omega shivers as if the mere idea of Max was setting him off.

“He wouldn’t lie to me. Not about this.” 

And while Charles had suspected the same, he’d had taken the whole night tossing and turning in his bed and mulling over the idea of Max lying to him about something like this.

The alpha was cruel but he’d never disrespect his grandmother like that. 

While he waited for Max to give him the whole story, he’d decided to give the alpha the benefit of the doubt. 

There was still so much clouding his mind and only Max had those answers. 

“Why was he at your place anyway? And naked no less!”

“Half naked.” Charles points out once more. “And it’s not what you think. I was supposed to check his injuries —”

“Injuries!?” Lando squeaks, loud and unashamed. They get a few more stares now.

“Shh!” Charles hushes. 

And yes, Charles understands how incriminating this all sounds. Lando knew of Max and his infamous “injuries,” so he couldn’t exactly blame the other omega for not believing him. 

“It was actual injuries, I promise. He got hurt during the race. I even had to stitch him up.” Charles placates. 

“You trust him too much.” Lando huffs, reaching out to take a piece of bread. “Anyway — back to what others are saying. They think you seduced Carlos and Max which led to them fighting.”

Charles pauses. “What?” 

“Somehow it’s been spread that you were in pre-heat before the race. They are saying you did it on purpose and sent those alphas crazy. Max, who was in his wolf form, smelled your heat and went feral so he came to you.”

“That’s not even — heats don’t work like that!” Charles hisses. 

Sometimes the lack of knowledge people have of omega biology blows his mind. They really think Charles is able to induce a heat? God.

“Isn’t there like herbs for that?” Lando asks absentmindedly, munching on his bread. 

“No! Plus I took suppressants, no one should’ve been able to smell me.” 

“Hey –” Lando throws his hands up in surrender. “I believe you. But you are known as some kind of whiz in our pack. No wonder they think you used some love potion to seduce them.”

“Love potion?” Charles scrunches his face up, disgusted by the notion. Especially using it for Carlos no less. The alpha and his misbehaviour still stung him. 

Lando nods gravely. “Love potion, pheromones. Same thing. The point is, the pack thinks you are some kind of — um —”

Charles shoots him a sharp stare, knowing the omega was hiding something from him. 

“Lando, what are they saying about me?”

“Cha —”

Charles shakes his head. Determined. “Tell me.”

Lando sighs, looking every bit defeated. “Whore. They are calling you a whore Charles.”

Charles freezes for a second. Not entirely sure he’d heard those words correctly. 

But there was no mistaking it — the way the others looked at him, like his presence alone was unpleasant. 

His stomach churns. Shame is a quiet, creeping thing and right now it was wrapping around his ribs, making a place right behind his heart. The area tight and squeezing.  

Was this what they really thought of him? That he was so desperate, so easy. That he’d used his body, his biology, to tempt alphas. 

The only shred of absolution Charles could cling to was the truth. His truth. He hadn’t induced a heat. He hadn’t seduced anyone. And he sure as hell hadn’t lured Max into his hut.

Charles clenches his fists, ready to argue when someone comes up to them. 

It’s a beta woman and one of their kitchen hands, Laura. She doesn’t look at him however, her gaze trained on Lando.

“Lando. I must speak with you.” When Lando makes no move to get up, she adds. “Privately.” 

The other omega gives him a weird look and follows behind her. 

For wanting a private conversation, they only walk a few steps away from the table where he sat. Still very much in listening distance. Sometimes he wonders if betas forget the natural enhanced hearing of omegas.

“I didn’t know if I should say —” She begins tentatively, wringing her hands together. “But your mate —”

Charles notices how Lando immediately tenses at the mention of Oscar.

“Oscar? What happened to him?”

Laura hushes him, throwing a wary glance Charles’ way, who immediately whips his head away, caught staring at the duo clearly conversing about him.

“Charles and Oscar were seen behind the pack building this morning.” She lets the sentence hang in the air, for what he wasn’t sure. Maybe an outburst from Lando? “Lando –” She says pointedly when the other omega just stares at her. “They were close. ”

“I don’t —” Lando begins, then pauses, before — “Oh my moon! You are actually insinuating Oscar and Charles did something –” He breaks off into a fit of giggles.

Laura looks scandalised. 

“It’s not a lie.” She hisses. “Several pack members saw!”

“I’m sure they did.” Lando laughs some more, wiping his eyes a little. “Did they see them making out? Or perhaps did they smell Charles’ induced heat pheromones once again – or oh! Were they naked?” Lando rattles off.

Laura becomes increasingly annoyed at how this situation was being turned into a joke. 

“  — were they rolling around on the dirt right there, in plain sight? Or —” 

“Enough!” Laura interrupts. “I try to help but I guess you don’t care enough.” She huffs and walks away.

Lando makes a face at her retreating back before joining him at the table. The remnants of his smile still clinging to his expression.

“Lando —” Charles begins.

“Don’t even think about explaining. I trust you and I trust Oscar.” He says simply.

Charles smiles gratefully, endeared by his friend. “I wasn’t going to explain.” 

“Sure you weren’t.” The other omega rolls his eyes at him before a serious expression takes over his features. “But you see why this is a problem? No one would’ve batted an eye if you and Osc chatted before but suddenly it’s a big deal.”

“It’s just gossip, it’ll blow over.” He dismisses, not unkindly. Charles did appreciate his friend looking out for him but so far all the pack had was some baseless rumours to go by. 

He could easily prove his innocence. Carlos wouldn’t vouch for him but Max would. No, Max had to. It was Charles’ reputation on the line here. 

Until then Charles could handle some mindless gossip.

As if he’d jinxed himself by daring to hope it was harmless, the situation turned out to be much bigger than idle speculation.

By the time he stepped into the medical hut for his shift, Charles could tell something had changed. 

The atmosphere here was just as strange. Except he had quietly been hoping that at least here, at his workplace, others wouldn’t judge him too much.

Since stepping inside, Charles had already noticed the pointed glances cast his way, the silent murmurs. All of which he easily brushed off when Esteban called out to him.

The beta assured him everything was under control in the ward, though their stock had taken a hit with the recent surge in patients. Seb had specifically requested that Charles start with an inventory count so they were aware of any medicines they’d needed to urgently stock up on. 

He was more than willing to oblige.

The task was exactly what he needed. It was quiet, methodical and solitary. As he moved through the shelves, ticking off herbs, roots and powders, the steady rhythm of the task numbed his thoughts, granting him a few rare, peaceful moments.

When he finally emerged from the back room with a meticulously curated list of herbs they’d needed and ready to take over for Esteban, the first crack in the facade showed.

It came in the form of an omega in post-partum, outright refusing his aid. 

“Maria —” He began gently. “I don’t understand. What do you mean you wish to wait?”

Maria barely glanced his way, clutching her small new-born pup to her chest protectively. “I prefer someone else to do our checkup.”

Charles blinked. That wasn’t unusual in itself.  Omegas could be particularly sensitive in the days after giving birth. Especially towards their pups. But something in her tone gave him pause. It wasn’t nervousness or protectiveness. It was mean .

He looked toward Esteban, who stood awkwardly to the side, clearly unsettled too. The other beta was skilled with small wounds and injuries but maternity work had always been Charles’ speciality. Esteban had never even assisted during a birth.

“Esteban isn’t trained for postnatal care.” Charles explains carefully. “If you’ll let me —”

He extended a hand slowly, an instinctive gesture meant to offer reassurance. But Maria flinched like he’d slapped her.

“Don’t you dare.” She snarled, lips curling back as her scent spiked with revulsion. “Keep your filthy hands away from my pup.”

Charles froze, the sting of the words cutting deeper than he expected. He recoiled immediately like he’d been burned. 

The room felt suddenly smaller, tighter and the air heavy with an omega’s distress. 

Charles wasn’t sure if the sour scent was his or Maria’s — or both combined.

The small pup who was dozing soundly just a moment ago had awoken during the confrontation and loud sobs wracked its tiny body.

Esteban stood frozen in place, mouth parting like he might intervene but nothing came out.

Charles swallowed around the sudden knot in his throat. “Maria.” He tried again, gently. “I don’t understand. I’m just trying to help —”

“No.” She snapped. “We all heard what you did. It’s disgusting.”

The words were loud — meant to be heard. They echoed in the ward. Deliberate and biting.

Charles was frozen in his spot, stunned. His heart pounded in his ears, louder than the small pup’s cries.

Maria didn’t back down, didn’t soften. Her posture was fierce, protective — not just of her child but of herself, like simply being near him was a threat to her dignity.

Charles could feel the other patients staring him down too. 

He didn’t know where to look. His gaze dropping to the floor, to his open hands that had delivered so many pups into this world, had stitched wounds and eased pain — now seen as something disgusting?

And it wasn’t just Maria.

He felt it all morning from the others too. 

The subtle recoils when he passed, the quick averted eyes. The whispers.

He took a small step back, then another, the rejection settling like stone in his chest.

“I’ll get someone else.” He murmured, barely able to push the words out. “I’m sorry.”

Esteban looked alarmed at the prospect of having to deal with anything maternity related, Charles couldn’t blame him, he wasn’t trained for this at all. 

“Don’t worry it’s not urgent, Seb should be back soon. He’ll take care of it.” He reassured before shutting himself off in Seb’s office trying to make sense of the situation. 

Unfortunately this whole ordeal had gotten significantly worse. 

It was no longer just idle gossip but — for a lack of a better word — bullying.

The bullying wasn’t physical. It wasn’t confrontational. In fact, most days, it came dressed as indifference — mundane but cruel acts that cut deeper than any direct attack.

Doing laundry used to be a communal task. Every few days, Charles would carry a bundle of his clothes to the main wash area, where he’d chat casually while scrubbing alongside other pack omegas. It had always been simple — warm water, shared soap, a few stories exchanged over splashing water. But now, the moment he arrived, the conversation would freeze up.

No one offered him anything anymore, deliberately taking up extra space so he had to wait until they were done. 

Once, someone even poured a bucket of dirty water where he’d been planning to sit, murmuring, “oops,” without so much as glancing at him. 

When he returned to retrieve his laundry one afternoon, he found his clothes still damp, wrinkled and tossed carelessly on the muddy ground. 

His food rations were a nightmare altogether.

There were days when Charles would go without food altogether, forced to fulfill his duties at the medical hut with nothing but bitter tea sloshing in his stomach. 

No one said much but their message was clear, you get what you deserve. 

Sometimes, they were intentionally giving him things they knew he couldn’t stomach. 

Overly salty broth, undercooked grains or meat that tasted just slightly off. Not enough to be obvious but enough to leave a lingering nausea and stomach ache.

Ollie helped when he could, slipping him extra portions but that just made him feel worse. This sympathy from the one person who should hate him the most.

Lando, being Lando, had tried to stand up for him once — only to find his own rations quartered the following day in retaliation so Charles quietly told his friend to stop. 

He stopped visiting the kitchens and started to hunt small game himself so he could have something to eat. Luckily he had a small garden that produced the basic herbs, lemons and a few fruits that he could also survive off of. 

With colder weather approaching, Charles noticed his allotted firewood was always conveniently the worst of the lot. Damp, musty logs that wouldn’t catch fire no matter how long he tried. His hut stayed cold well into the night, frost creeping along the edges of his window sills and it became a common occurrence for him to wake up with stiff and numb limbs.

His water barrel was always empty so Charles had to trek twice a day just to have enough water for his needs.

The list went on.

The worst part was how patients kept refusing his treatment.

It hadn’t started slowly but came all at once. Following the incident with Maria, the rest of the pack seemed to follow her example.

They flinched back when he approached or avoided eye contact altogether. A few even made excuses to wait for Esteban, despite knowing Charles was the more experienced healer.

One older alpha with a dislocated shoulder had snapped at him once. "I’d rather keep the pain than let you touch me." Before storming out of the hut, leaving Charles standing there, hands still raised, stunned.

Mothers with pups began to reschedule their visits or showed up only when Charles wasn’t on shift. Some didn't show up at all.

The whispers never stopped. They followed him from one patient to the next, cruel and hurtful.

“Should’ve known better…”

“Can’t believe Max — ”

“He probably lured him in. Filthy omega…”

Omegas would pull their alphas away when he walked by, like any closer and he would do god knows what —

But nothing hurt more than when the pups started to notice. The same pups who had once giggled and clung to him during checkups now shrank behind their parents' legs.

Lando noticed the darkening bags under his eyes, the way his tunics hung more loosely on his frame and he even mentioned how his natural cherry scent was getting weaker and weaker. 

Truth was Charles didn’t know how much longer he could hold out either. 

His job, his role that fulfilled him everyday was slowly being taken away from him and that — that made it harder for him to cope.

Charles told himself that he’d only needed to wait until Max returned. The alpha would surely clear his name and everything could go back to normal.

But Oscar had said Max was only sent to retrieve Adrian from Aston Martin. The other pack was close enough to get the trek there and back done in a few days but Max had been away for a few weeks now. 

And yet Charles waited. He had no choice. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to speak up for himself. The other omegas whom he regularly chatted with, Hana, Maya, he’d told them it was a misunderstanding. But they barely even glanced his way, let alone gave him time to explain himself. 

In the midst of this mess, Seb and Esteban were taking the brunt of it.

Seb, already strained with council duties, had now taken on the added burden of fending whispers and complaints directed toward Charles. 

Every time someone sneered about the state of the medical hut or questioned the morality of letting “someone like that” treat their wounds, Seb’s jaw would clench, his expression unreadable but the quiet rage in his eyes was visible. 

Esteban, though quieter, was no less loyal. Often finding him at the back to discreetly ask for advice on how to treat a particular injury or how to take care of someone. 

They both had to take care of twice as many patients now. 

Charles still showed up to the medical hut every single day. 

A part of him didn’t know what he would be, what his identity is, his purpose is,  if it wasn’t this — being a healer. 

He offered to make medicine and kept to himself in the back room with his herbs and concoctions, knowing that his abilities were still helping people whether they had wanted it or not. 

It was one such morning where Charles made himself sparse from the general ward and stayed in the back grinding some turmeric when Seb had come in.

“Oh Seb.” Charles greets, blinking at the unexpected sight of the beta in the doorway to the medical hut. “I thought you had a council meeting?” He asks, returning to his work, using a mortar and pestle to grind some turmeric root. 

Seb doesn’t respond right away. He lingers near the door, his brow furrowed. By the time Charles has scraped the powdered turmeric into a small jar and begun slicing saffron threads, Seb finally speaks.

“They asked to see you instead.” Seb says, sounding a bit grim.

Charles pauses where he was chopping to look up. The news itself was a bit grim too. What could the council possibly want with him?

“Could this be about the budget they were grilling you about a few weeks ago?” Charles asks, trying to seem casual but knowing there was more to this story. 

He would like all the possible information he could get before facing against them. Actually, he would much prefer not to face them at all.

Seb shakes his head. “Something is fishy. I already gave them the whole run down about that last week so it’s weird they want to see you.”

Charles may have a small inkling about what this could be about. 

As much as he’d like to avoid this, it was not like he had a choice but to make an appearance. 

Chapter Text

“Charlie, stop crying dear.” His grandmother cooed, gently wiping at the steady stream of tears trailing down his flushed cheeks with her sleeve.

Charles hiccuped, he was really trying to be brave and not be a crybaby like Max always called him but it was hard. 

Most days it was hard but today was especially hard —

“It’s your birthday, mon trésor. Birthday pups shouldn’t cry.” She said, brushing his curls back from his damp forehead.

Charles didn’t answer, didn’t stop crying, just burrowed closer into her warmth, letting her arms calm his little, quivering frame.  

He was a big boy now. Seven years old. He could read, write, count and even help around the medical hut. And yet –

“Mamie the other pups –” He hiccuped. “ – said I was weird because I didn’t have a Maman and Papa.”

His grandmother continues rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Well that’s a lie.” She said firmly.

Charles pulled back slightly, tears still streaming down his cheeks, his nose a little snotty and his eyes blurry. But even then he could see how serious his grandmother was.

“Lie?” He asked softly.

“Yes mon bebe.” She said firmly, lifting his chin with her knuckle. “Of course you have a Maman and Papa. Very beautiful Maman, she was the prettiest in our whole pack and your Papa, oh my! He was the strongest.” 

“But –” He took a hitching breath in. “Where are they?”

“Well Charlie, since your Papa is so strong he was needed to fight the big bad wolves. And if he fought by himself, he would get lonely wouldn’t he?” Charles gave a small nod to her question, so she continued. “Exactly. So that’s why your Mama is there so he won’t be alone.”

“Will they come back soon?”

His grandmother’s expression had cracked a little but her smile was pasted back on before little Charles could understand. “They will come back as soon as all the bad wolves are gone.” 

Charles’ eyes shone.  “So Mama and Papa heroes like Mamie?” 

She laughed slightly at the innocent question but didn’t hesitate to say. “They are better than Mamie.” 

But Charles didn’t like this reply. 

He of course loved his Maman and Papa even though they had to leave him for some reason but his grandmother had always been with him. She was the best, no arguments.

So with all his mighty seven years of life, he says with an absolute finality. “No one beats Mamie! Mamie is the best!”

His grandmother rewards him with a lovely smile, dimples appearing in her cheeks. Similar to the ones Charles usually gets when he smiles. Ones which Max loved poking like the absolute menace he is. 

“Thank you mon chou.” His grandmother said, ruffling his curly locks. 

That was how Sebastian had found them.

Charles in his grandmother’s lap, clinging to her, with wet tear tracks dried on his cheeks but finally smiling a little because not only his grandmother was a hero but his Maman and Papa were too!

Sebastian was a beta, freshly presented. Always picking fights with the alphas and everyone knew it was because he wasn’t one of them and for some reason the beta wanted to prove he was better.

The pack elders always said to stay away from him because he caused too much trouble. 

This day was no different. Sebastian trudged inside, dragging his left leg while muttering something under his breath. Charles could see the slight red seeping through his pants already.

His grandmother sighed, exasperated but fond. “Not you again.”

“You say that every time.” Sebastian grumbled.

Charles peeked out from her lap, eyes wide. “Did you fight an alpha again?”

Sebastian grinned crookedly. “Maybe.”

Charles gasped dramatically. “Mamie says that’s not smart!”

“And Mamie is always right.” She said, gently settling Charles down and reaching for some cotton. “Sit down before you bleed on my floor.”

“If you are going to be so grumpy about it, then teach me and I can do it myself!”

His grandmother raised an eyebrow, amused. “Hm. I will teach you. But not so you can treat yourself but so you can help others.”

“Yuck. Why would I do that!?” Sebastian scrunched his nose in disgust but dutifully sat on the cot, carefully propping his leg up. 

She chuckled softly and began to roll up the blood soaked fabric around Sebastian’s shin. “Because healing is a gift, mon petit. A rare one. Not everyone can do it — especially not alphas.” 

His grandmother added emphasis on the alpha part.

Sebastian shot her a skeptical look. “Why not? They’re supposed to be the best at everything.”

“Mm, they think they are.” She said with a wry smile, reaching for a small clay pot steeping with warm water infused with yarrow powder, dipping some cotton into the mixture. “But alphas struggle with things that require true empathy. They don’t feel pain the way omegas do. They don’t listen to it like betas can.”

Sebastian stayed quiet, contemplative as he watched her work. She carefully dabbed the cotton onto the cut. The warmth and sting made him flinch slightly. She continued gently blotting until the bleeding slowed.

“And think about it.” She added softly, glancing up at him. “Alphas will have to come to you for treatment.”

A slow, almost sinister smile spread across Sebastain’s boyish features. “They will do as I say! I will have power over them!”

She smiled, now wrapping fresh cotton over the wound. “Now now. We still need to be kind to patients but yes, you have the power to heal them.”

And just like that with a few words and soft promises, his grandmother had turned the most rowdy teenager to be one of the most gifted healers this pack had ever seen. 

Charles was silently observing the interaction, his big curious green eyes taking in how his grandmother not only soothed the angry beta but gave him a purpose. 

When she finally finished and retreated to the back room, Sebastian had acknowledged Charles.

“What the hell were you crying about?”

Sebastian’s voice wasn’t exactly gentle. More annoyed than anything. Charles sniffled, scrubbing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. Sebastian was kind of scary sometimes. Loud, rough, always frowning like the world had personally wronged him.

“Nothing…” Charles mumbled, eyes downcast. “Just… I don’t have any parents.”

Sebastian dramatically rolled his eyes. “So what? I don’t have any either.”

Charles blinked, startled. “You don’t?”

“Nope.” Sebastian said, popping the p and swinging his leg like it didn’t sting anymore. “Got an aunty though. Mean as hell. Doesn’t even make me birthday cakes.” He says, eyeing the small cake on the table that his grandmother made for him. Charles was waiting for Max so they could finally cut it and eat.

“I’m sure she’s not that mean.” Charles protested softly, frowning at him.

Sebastian shrugged. “She makes me do chores and yells when I fight.”

A silence settled and Charles contemplated what Sebastian was telling him. His grandmother hadn’t ever yelled at Charles, only ever gently scolded him. She also doesn’t ask him to do any chores, Charles volunteers himself after noticing how tired his grandmother looked after her shifts. 

“Hey.” Sebastian speaks up once more. “Your grandmother is always nice to me. Even gave me honey tea once. You’re lucky.”

Charles sniffled again but gave the tiniest, wobbliest smile. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” Sebastian said firmly. “So even if you have no parents, you’ll be fine.”

Charles didn’t know why but his young self had clung to those words.

“You’ll be fine Charles.” Seb reassured. “I won’t be allowed in. But I can still walk with you and wait outside.” 

Charles didn’t need to think twice. He was grateful for Seb’s presence, grateful that someone still stood beside him when the whole pack had turned their backs on him. 

Esteban could probably use the help today but Charles knew with certainty that he wouldn’t be able to face the council alone without knowing that at least Seb was outside.

“If that’s okay?” He asks quietly, already feeling a little selfish for asking.

Seb didn’t hesitate. “Of course.” He said, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got your back.”

Together, they made their way toward the council building. A tall, stern looking structure made of dark stone and timber, sitting imposingly at the centre of their pack grounds. 

The walk felt longer than it was and every passing pack member was watching him closely like they knew exactly where he was going. Still, Seb walked beside him casually, with his hands in his pockets, jaw set and a solid presence. 

Charles tried to breathe evenly. Tried to keep his head high. But his palms feel ice cold, as opposed to the sweat breaking out at the back of his neck. The contrasting temperatures just agitated him further.

Seb stops him just short of the entrance, one hand lightly catching his elbow. His gaze calm and steady, the complete opposite to how Charles was feeling. 

“Remember, you did nothing wrong.” Seb reminds.

The words settle like a balm, even if Charles doesn’t quite believe them yet. He nods, unable to speak past the stone lodged in his throat. 

Seb stiffly nods back and ushers Charles towards the entrance. 

Charles swallows hard. His fingers tremble slightly as he reaches for the heavy wooden handle. He doesn’t look back, just takes one deep breath, lets it fill his chest and pushes the door open.

He’s immediately hit with the strong scents of alphas — in abundance, overwhelming and slightly dizzying. In the midst he can make out the warm sandalwood of Oscar’s and the putrid grassy scent of Carlos.

The council room is large, its stone walls designed to make voices carry. A room meant to impress and intimidate. Doing both with ease. 

He can hear the shift of bodies seated around a long curved table, all turning to face him. The head of the table taken up by none other than Jos Verstappen, to his right was Christian and the left Carlos Sainz Sr. 

Charles knows Carlos is also somewhere but right now he needs familiarity so he tries to find Oscar.

Although Charles could really use some salty sea scent, he makes do with the sandalwood for now. Charles bets if he could get close enough to Oscar, he could probably make out the floral rosy scent of Lando. God, how he wishes the other omega was here right now.

Oscar gives him a tight smile but before Charles can even acknowledge that, Christian is speaking. 

“Charles. Nice of you to join us on such short notice.” Comes the smooth, clipped voice of the alpha.

Charles’ hands curl tightly at his sides to keep them from shaking too much. He forces himself to meet Christian’s gaze.

“Of course.” He replies, making sure to keep his head down. It was a sign of respect but right now, it was more out of fear.

Although his legs feel like they could give out at any moment with the stares of about twenty alphas boring into him, there isn’t a chair available. He isn’t even offered a seat.

Jos clears his throat then and Charles subtly lifts his gaze to acknowledge he was listening. 

“There are quite a few rumours milling around and we as a council —” The Head Alpha points around the table. “ — Decided to intervene before you pose any more danger.”

Charles can’t help but the way he snaps his head up fully.

Had he heard that right? Charles was a threat to — who?

“I’m sorry I don’t understand.” He asks, his voice surprisingly level for the situation he’s in.

It’s Sainz Sr. who speaks up next, his voice gruff and grating against Charles’ nerves with every syllable. “We heard you made some threats to my son in the medical hut while he was there for treatment.” 

Which —

 “Do that again and I will make sure you are useless for the rest of your fucking miserable life.” 

That’s what he’d said. That one sentence, hurled at Carlos in a moment of fury, right after the alpha had dared to use his voice. Charles can’t even believe that this — was this what triggered everything?

Everything from isolating him, starving him, making him freeze — because he’d made that one comment. A comment that was justified after the alpha had temporarily controlled him!

Before he even has a chance to defend himself, Christian pipes up once more.

“There’s also the issue with inducing your heat, having an alpha at your hut alone , not to mention that alpha is courting someone already.” He sighs, like it pains him to make these accusations but Charles knows he’s probably having some sick pleasure seeing him reduced to this. “It’s not looking great  for you Charles.”

Charles grits his teeth and clenches his fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. All of these accusations have explanations but would the council be willing to hear him out when people he’d considered friends hadn’t?

“I —”

He’s cut off once again.

“Charles, think about how your grandmother would feel? You are being reduced to a whore, no respect within the pack. You are not only tainting your name but your grandmother’s too. Her legacy —”

“Enough!” Charles spits. “Do not speak of her like that.”

The whole room flinches at his words. Like they hadn’t expected him to show any defiance. 

Then Jos laughs .

Not a full laugh. Just a few short chuckles, each dripping with mockery. Like he’s watching a child throw a tantrum for not being allowed to play. 

Charles shudders when those icy blue eyes of their Head Alpha land on him, bracing for the worst. But he matches the stare head on. Like Seb had said he had done nothing wrong.

Jos opens his mouth with no doubt another thing to spit at him but this time Charles beats him to it.

“Carlos used his alpha voice on me.” He begins, the words sharp despite how much he wants to shrink away. “So I responded as anyone would after being violated . I defended myself. Appropriately. ”

The smirk falters on Jos’ face, just slightly.

“You cannot induce heats.” Charles continues, voice rising with clarity, beckoning strength from every fibre of his being. “That’s not how our biology works and I did take suppressants so no, I could not have seduced anyone with my scent.”

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t give them time to twist it.

“If you don’t believe me, then check the medical stock books. We account for every herb, powder and root. There are written records, signed and stored. And Max — ”

The name catches in his throat and he falters momentarily.

Max hadn’t wanted this. Hadn’t wanted his father to know he’d been injured during the race, hadn’t wanted to show weakness. Not to the pack, not to Jos. But what choice does Charles have now? He could keep his mouth closed except that would make them look guiltier so he settles for the truth, even though it feels like betrayal.

“Max was at my hut for treatment.” He says, quieter now but no less firm. “He was injured and needed help. That’s it.”

Charles is heaving by the end of it. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to keep himself together. He tried so hard to not let his voice crack, not to show how deeply all of this is getting to him. His fingers tremble at his sides, curled just enough to hide the shaking. His skin feels too tight, too raw, stretched thin over a body that's trying not to crumble.

He's fighting every instinct. He’s fighting his inner omega that tells him to bow his head. To yield. To submit. To make himself small and apologetic and agreeable, just to stop the pressure pressing down on him from all sides. But he doesn't.

He won’t.

He keeps his head high even as his lungs beg for relief.

He didn’t dare look at how Carlos was taking all of this. 

There’s a beat of silence after Charles’ words as if everyone is taking in his words. Oscar gives him a proud little smile and it helps if only a little to know that at least someone believes him. 

Charles thinks maybe he’s done his part, maybe he can finally relax —

But it’s Christian who exhales softly, shaking his head like he’s disappointed.

“That’s quite the performance Charles.” He says, tone flat, unmoved. “But spitting lies instead of being accountable —”

“I am being accountable—”

“You’re being defensive” Christian says smoothly, as though Charles hadn’t even spoken. “You’re making excuses. Blaming others —”

“I’m just —”

“ Stop interrupting me. ” It isn’t said with an alpha’s voice. But Charles reacts like it is.

The words strike his inner omega. Precise and bypassing through thought and logic. His mouth snaps shut before he can stop it, lips pressed tight together as shame floods through him like ice water.

And Christian sees it.

He sees it and smiles.

“ Good. ”

The word lands thick with condescension, with control. It settles over Charles like a noose being tightened. Like praise given to a dog for obeying a command. He felt cheap.

“You are making so many baseless claims. Medical books are maintained by you , Charles. Easily manipulated, if you so wish. You expect us to take those records at face value?”

He leans forward slightly, just enough to drive the knife deeper.

“And Max?” He continues, voice laced with amusement. “You’re asking us to believe he was hurt that he had no choice but to drag himself to your hut? Only to make a trek to Aston Martin not hours later?”

He lets the question hang in the air like a trap, his eyebrows raised as if daring Charles to try and defend it.

Someone snorts from the side of the room. A few others chuckle quietly, entertained by the absurdity Christian’s painted. The narrative is slipping further and further out of Charles’ hands and they were getting some sick pleasure from it all.

“Not to mention blaming me for using my alpha’s voice.” It’s Carlos now, his voice dripping with mock incredulity. 

Charles bites his lip so hard he tastes the metallic tang of blood. He knew calling out Carlos was going to be a long shot but he’d tried anyway because — what else did he have?

“That is a serious accusation indeed.” Carlos’ father agrees.

Charles wants to scream, he wants to cry. 

“I’m not lying.” He says instead, hating how weak and small his voice sounds. 

Jos tsks at him. “The pack watched you grow up and to see them turn their back to you, clearly you must have done something wrong.”

“Charles hasn’t done anything!” Oscar snaps, the alpha usually calm and collected has a furrow between his brows, his usually pale complexion turning a dangerous shade of red.

Jos scoffs. “Really? You want to speak up on his behalf after the two of you were also caught alone? Adultery is a serious sin Oscar, should we bring in your mate for questioning?”

Charles notes how Oscar stiffens, so he subtly shakes his head at the other alpha, willing him to stay put lest Oscar makes things worse for himself and by extension Lando. 

Oscar grits his teeth but lowers his gaze, retreating into silence with his fists clenched

Satisfied, Sainz Sr continues on. “It is really sad to see you like this, Charles. Although, in my opinion your grandmother had always been a bit lax with disciplining you.” 

Charles wants to bite back so badly, he has heard enough of his grandmother’s name being dragged into this just so they could get a reaction out of him. It was sick, it was cruel and it was disgusting. But it seemed anything he said just came back to bite him tenfold.

“We were initially just going to warn you.” It’s the pack elder, Helmut Marko who speaks up this time. His voice alone silences everyone. “But seeing you feel no remorse and are willing to go so slow as to accuse one of our most respected members, I think we need a different approach.” He then turns to Carlos. “Since you are the victim here, what do you propose we do?”

The words victim and Carlos should never be used in the same sentence. Not when Charles is the one who was controlled, humiliated and touched against his will.

Carlos’ lips twitch upward just slightly. There’s a glint in his eyes following those words, like he’d been waiting for such power to be handed to him. The power to apparently punish Charles however he liked.

He pretends to think, really selling the act by furrowing his brows and frowning. But Charles can read him clearly. Carlos probably had something lined up in his mind already.

“Well —” Carlos begins slowly. “This incident could be seen as a one-off, I suppose. Charles might be feeling — ” He pauses, eyes flicking to Charles with calculated pity. “— bitter over some unrequited feelings. Maybe he felt rejected and had to resort to such low methods.”

Charles has a hard time following Carlos’ words after the alpha implies that he’d willingly done everything because he was lusting after him. 

There’s a faint white noise, Carlos’ words just filtering in and out.

“Understandable this happens…just needs to…apologise… kneel —”

The word snaps Charles back to full awareness like a slap in the face.

He blinks rapidly, the fog clearing. His eyes fix on Carlos, who is staring at him with a kind of smug satisfaction.

Kneel. Carlos wants him to kneel.

A nicer way to say — submit.

“Kneel.” Christian echoes, voice calm. “That sounds appropriate.”

“The least he could do.” Jos adds on.

And then, finally—

“Kneel here right now and apologise to Carlos.” Helmut says, final and absolute.

Charles swallows hard, heart slamming against his ribs. “I won’t. I – I have done nothing wrong.” 

The room stills.

Helmut tilts his head, voice quiet and cold. “Very well. If you refuse, you will be stripped of your job at the medical hut, banned from pack duties and placed under supervision until we deem you safe. Is that a better option?”

They should just kick him out. Charles would rather just fucking leave this godforsaken pack… right?

He’d be displaced once again, would leave behind the friends he’d made, the small semblance of family he had ever known would be gone. He'd be leaving the hut which held memories of a lifetime, shared memories with his grandmother. He would leave behind Max .

Where would he even go? But why should he even leave? This was his home too!

His silence grants Christian permission to speak once more. “Maybe while we are at it, we should decide what to do with Oscar as well.” 

The message was loud and clear. He could avoid them and ignore them but then they were going to punish Oscar if he didn’t obey.

Charles feels like the walls are pressing in on him. The air feels way too heavy to breathe.

It was just kneeling. He could do it — 

This wasn’t about surrender. This wasn’t weakness. It was about protecting the people he loved. If he was the only one at stake then Charles could’ve taken it but he couldn’t live with himself if he’d done any harm to Oscar and even Lando.

Charles had seen what happened to Daniel. One disagreement, one act of defiance and the alpha was exiled. No one had heard from him since.

Charles couldn't let that happen to Oscar.

So if it meant lowering himself — just this once — then maybe it wasn’t submission.

Maybe it was survival.

“I’ll do it –” He speaks, voice low and small. “I – I can kneel. Just leave Oscar out of this.” 

It’s meant to be a request but the tremor in his voice gives him away. It sounds far too much like begging.

He steps forward, fists clenched so hard his nails carve sharp crescents into his palms. His knees wobble, his breath shallow. Every instinct in his body screams not to do this. 

Charles squeezes his eyes shut, unwilling to see the satisfaction that’s surely blooming in all their expressions. He starts to lower himself, the shame pressing down on him like a tonne of bricks.

And then —

A hand grabs his arm, firm and fast, yanking him back upright before his knees ever touch the ground.

Charles stumbles slightly.

He startles and catches himself on the solid presence behind him.

Finding himself face to face with — Max.

Max, who’s breathing like he just ran the entirety of the woods to be here. His chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm. Max, whose eyes blaze with fury, jaw clenched so tight it trembles. Max, whose grip tethers him, gives him a sense of safety.

“He’s not going to kneel for that pathetic excuse of an alpha.” He growls, each word tinged with venom. 

Then those blue eyes settle on him, the heat behind them dimming into something softer — much softer than the situation calls for.

“Are you okay?” Max asks.

Charles is still clinging to the front of Max’s tunic, their chest pressed close, one arm still held gently in Max’s grasp. His mouth opens, then closes, overwhelmed and still reeling from the whiplash of the moment.

“I’m —” 

“Max.” Their Head Alpha cuts in and steals Max’s attention, his voice pointed and raw. There is anger radiating from that single syllable. “We are trying to reprimand bad behaviour. We —”

“Are punishing the wrong person.” Max interrupts, slicing over his father’s words like a blade.

A beat of silence — then Christian chuckles, light and artificial, a poor attempt at softening the storm building in the room. No one truly laughs. No one wants to see Max argue with Jos. No one dares intervene.

“Max, you’ve been away so I’m sure you are not fully aware of the situation.” Christian says. “We can explain to you later.”

Max’s steely gaze leaves his father to acknowledge Christian, the alpha also subtly pulls Charles behind him, guarding him from the rest of the council. A gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed as Jos narrows his eyes at them.

“I know enough Christian. Actually I’m here to tell you exactly what happened.” Max replies smoothly. Surprisingly the alpha’s scent was neutral, the same salty sea breeze that comforts Charles. He shamelessly inhales in air to get some of the scent in, using it to calm his nerves while Max deals with the council. 

“I was at Charles’ hut for treatment that night. Yes, I did trek all the way to Aston Martin because I thought one of our own was in danger. ” Max spits the words. “Imagine my surprise when I went there and Adrian wasn’t in fact taken?” He casts his eyes around the room. “So why was I sent there — almost as if I was set up?”

“Careful.” Helmut speaks. “Are you implying someone did this on purpose?”

Max doesn’t falter at the pack elder’s warning. “We’ll get to my implications later. Right now I’m here to prove Charles’ innocence. Which brings me to Carlos — who has been notorious for using an alpha’s voice.”

A few gasps ripple around the large room, some looking shocked while Carlos shifts comfortably in his chair and Sainz Sr narrows his eyes at Max for making that accusation against his son.

“How so?” He grits, the words being pulled from between his teeth.

Charles, while he can’t make out anyone’s nor Max’s expressions, he can still see the confident set of Max’s shoulders, he can hear how the alpha’s voice doesn’t waver. So Max must be telling the truth. 

“Please allow me to introduce Rebecca.” Max says, raising his voice a little so it carries outside.

A moment later, the doors open again and in walks an omega. 

She is beautiful, striking even, with tightly curled brunette hair and piercing ash grey eyes. But that was not what everyone noticed about her. No, it was the swell beneath the loose fabric of her dress. 

She was pregnant.

“This is Rebecca from the Williams pack.” Max introduces and doesn’t wait to add on — “She is pregnant with Carlos’ pup.”

This time the shocked gasps turned into loud shouts, with Sainz Sr the loudest of them all. “How ridiculous! How dare you say this!”

Charles himself lets out a little gasp and peeks over Max’s shoulder to see Carlos wide-eyed and pale. The reaction should be enough to warrant suspicion. If this was a lie, Carlos would not be so quiet.

Max remains the same though, cool and collected. “She’s here to testify. Go on Rebecca, these people can’t hurt you.” 

Rebecca, looks a bit pale herself but nods to Max. “I met Carlos around a year ago, we um — we got close. One thing led to another, we shared my heat and I found out I was pregnant and then –” Her voice cracks a little and she clears her throat, Charles notices how she cradles her stomach protectively. “ – then Carlos used his alpha’s voice and told me to never tell anyone and left.” 

“Nonsense!” 

“This is just crazy!”

“You cannot just bring a random omega in —”

“Actually —” Max interrupts. The room silences instantly, every head turning toward him. This time, Max doesn’t look at the council. His icy gaze is locked entirely on Carlos, unwavering. “ — I have one more omega to testify.”

Another ripple of tension zips across the room, wide eyes flicking between Max and Carlos.

Charles watches the wheels and cogs turn in Carlos’ eyes, the way the alpha was probably expecting the worst case scenario and truly no one could prepare for when Max calls for them.

“Isa, please come in.”

The heavy wooden doors open once again and another omega steps through. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled loosely back and soft brown eyes scan the room with caution. Her shoulders are stiff with nerves but she moves forward, guided by Max’s subtle nod.

At her side, she holds the hand of a small pup.

And the moment the child steps into view, the room gasps once more.

The resemblance is undeniable. The pup’s chocolate brown hair, his wide, doe-like eyes, even the shape of his mouth — it’s like looking at a smaller version of Carlos.

Someone in the council murmurs. “Oh my gods…”

Carlos goes sheet-white.

And this time, even Sainz Sr says nothing.

“This is Isa.” Max gently says. “And this little one is Bruno.” 

The little pup looks around in confusion and clutches his mama’s hand tighter noting the hostility in everyone’s gazes.

“Isa, you can speak your mind.”

Isa nods at Max before taking a deep breath. Her eyes remain downcast as she begins to explain. “I’m from the Renault pack, which of course no longer exists. I met Carlos a few years ago. He was charming and I fell for him fast. We shared many heats together and he told me he would return, to ask for my parents’ permission. Asked me to keep it a secret till then. But when things got worse for me in my pack, I couldn’t — I couldn’t defend myself. Then I realised he used his voice to keep me quiet.” She takes a stuttering breath in, reaching up to quickly wipe a stray tear that slipped past. “He never returned and I was left with Bruno.”

The room falls into a silence this time. There’s no angry shouts or accusations thrown around. It was clear for anyone with eyes to see the resemblance between the pup and the alpha in question.

Max gently gestures for the two women to the side, they’d done their part, had been so brave. No need for them to be scrutinised more.

Charles’ heart breaks for them. He was under an alpha’s voice for only a few moments and he’d never felt so violated and vulnerable, he couldn’t imagine what these two omegas went through for such a long time. Being unable to tell anyone, fighting with themselves every single day. 

The alpha’s voice can only be broken by the alpha who’d cast it or by another alpha’s command. Did Max have to —

Before Charles can question the morality of what Max had to do to get these omegas to testify, the alpha breaks the silence.

“If you still don’t believe then Isa has approved for her pup to be scent profiled. We can trace back the parents that way. And if that doesn’t convince you, then I’m sure we can find more omegas at the packs Carlos had visited before. Shall we take a trip to Toro Rosso and McLaren?”

Jos clears his throat. “Not necessary. We shall discuss this internally.” He shoots a sharp glare towards where Carlos sat, hunched over and shame written all over his face.

The dismissal was clear but Max seems unsatisfied and neither is Charles. He deserved justice, the two omegas more than anyone deserved justice.

“It’s not something to discuss internally.” Max begins. “There are three omegas here who were wrongly treated. I demand exiling Carlos as a punishment.”

“Enough!” There is a loud scrape of a chair being forcefully pushed back as Carlos stands to his full height. “All this to protect a whore of an omega? What would Ollie think, Max? What kind of example are you setting?!”

“Ollie would have no issues with me protecting my friends .” Max grits out. “But he would definitely mind if I have a dangerous alpha roaming around our pack grounds. You are a threat to all omegas!” 

This prompts a loud chorus of agreements.

“We need to protect our pack!”

“Using an alpha’s voice is a heinous act!”

“Carlos needs to be held accountable!"

While Christian, Sainz Sr, Jos and Helmut remain silent the rest of the council members start talking over one another, demanding for explanations, for justice. 

Amidst the chaos Max turns to him, his fingers featherlight when they come to wipe his cheek. Charles hadn’t even realised he'd shed tears.

“It’s going to be okay now Charles. You’re okay.” Max reassures, his palm warm against his skin. “Why don’t you wait outside hm? Pierre and Seb are there. I can take it from here.”

Charles takes a stuttering breath, can’t help how he nuzzles into Max’s touch just a little. “But, I –”

“It’ll only get messier here. I promise I will fix this, Carlos won’t be let off easy.” Max says once more.

Charles feels relief flood him, however tentative. The alpha sounds confident and Charles wants to cling to those words so badly and believe that for once everything will go back to normal.

He knows there’s more to tackle, that things might not work out for them but he was so tired . Weeks of hunger, coldness, isolation, he just wanted to lay down — rest.

Max was giving him a way out and as much as he wanted to witness Carlos be punished, he also just wanted the comfort of his own nest. So he relents. Lets himself be weak and lean into the alpha’s reassurances. 

“Okay.” He whispers with a shaky smile and turns to leave the chaos behind. 

He gets about two steps outside before a body collides into him. 

Charles takes a few seconds to recognise the patchouli scent before relaxing in Pierre’s embrace, his own arms coming up to hug his friend back.

Pierre squeezes him so tight Charles has to wiggle and complain. “Pear! You are squishing me!”

“Cha! You absolute idiot!” Pierre doesn’t let him go but at least he loosens his embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me anything? Did you think I was dead?!”

Charles sighs, he can understand how worried the other alpha is just through his scent alone. It was putrid and sad.

He had obviously considered it, just leaving everything behind and hiding away at Alpine. But Kika was pregnant, it was such a sensitive and crucial time for omegas. Charles couldn’t just infiltrate their space like that, no matter how welcomed he would have been.

Charles pulls back a little. “I didn’t want to worry you.” He explains weakly.

“Worry?!” Pierre repeats, aghast.

“So you decide to torture us instead.” It’s Seb’s voice this time. The beta had been waiting for him at the same spot he’d dropped Charles off.

Looking at these two, Charles had never felt more thankful. 

“I’m sorry.” He replies, a bit sheepish.

Seb crosses his arms across his chest. “Oh you should be! How come Pierre knows more than I do?” 

In all honesty, Seb hadn’t known the full extent of what Charles had been experiencing. He saw the patients at the medical hut but he hadn’t seen Charles’ freezing home or his always empty pantry. 

Charles knew what would happen when someone tried to help him, Lando being an example. He didn’t want to risk it. Not Seb, who had been with him since he was seven and was crying over not having parents.

He shrugs, apologetic. “I thought I could handle it. I — just thought if I got a  chance to explain then maybe everything would be okay.”

“Oh Cha –” Seb looks so guilty and Charles hates it. The beta, if anything, had been helping him so much.

“What are you doing here Pierre?” He asks instead, to steer the conversation away. 

Pierre huffs. “Max asked me for help. He was looking for Isa, who was part of the Renault pack which of course Alpine had taken over. But Charles, what the hell is happening?” 

Was this why Max had been away for so long? He had been looking for Isa and Rebecca? Charles doesn’t really know how to feel – thankful? 

“A lot has happened, Pear.” Charles says, feeling slightly lighter with a certain weight lifted off but also burdened with everything else he’s learned. 

His heart is still breaking for the two omegas in there, literally thrown to the wolves. Charles isn’t sure what much more he could’ve done anyway. He trusts Max and in some sense even Oscar to take care of it. 

“Let’s go to my hut. We can catch up.” He offers. More for himself too. Cuddling with his best friend sounded just about what he needed. “Seb, if that’s okay with you?” 

Seb waves him off. “Please, I've been telling you to rest for days now.”

Charles smiles at him, grateful once again and begins leading Pierre in the direction of his hut. 

The sight that greets him at the front of his hut has him pause. Pierre, who was chattering away at how Kika and the pup were doing, lets out a low whistle at the unusual display.

There were three alphas standing just on his porch. All young, freshly presented. One of them was holding firewood, the other had pails of water and the last one was holding fresh cuts of meat and a basket of warm bread. 

At the sight of him, they leave all the supplies on the porch and rush forward, eager and a little clumsy, tripping over themselves to reach Charles first.

“I’m Isack, I brought you some water!” The shortest one introduced.

Before Isack had even finished speaking, another one spoke up, this one he recognised from the other night. “I’m Gabi! It’s nice to finally meet you. I got some firewood. I freshly chopped it myself.”

The last one was slow to follow, confident in his gait, a slight smirk. “Franco here.” He introduced himself with a smooth velvet voice. “I hunted, cut and skinned this wild deer myself.” 

“What? You didn’t bake the bread yourself?” Isack adds, with a roll of his eyes.

“I had no oven so I had to request it.” Franco counters.

Gabi snorts. “If by request, you mean you flirted with the kitchen hands, then sure.” 

“It’s called using your brain.”

Pierre and Charles exchange an amused glance, both confused and thoroughly entertained with what was happening in front of them.

“It’s called being cheap and selling yourself out.” Isack doesn’t miss a beat to say.

Franco lets out a low growl. It was as non-threatening as it would be if a pup was doing it.

Charles decides to intervene before these baby alphas fight amongst themselves.

“Okay! That’s all well and great. But what exactly are you doing here?”

The three of them frown as if Charles asking the most basic of questions was weird. 

“Max sent us to help you out.” Gabi eventually replies when he realises that Charles genuinely had no clue.

Pierre chuckles. “Of course he did.”

“That’s — great. Um, why?”

Franco sighs. “Well it’s a crime for such a beautiful omega to suffer of course. So I was sent to help.”

Pierre snorts so loud and starts cackling like a hyena. Charles elbows him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Franco —” Isack hisses. “Does it pain you to not flirt for one second?” Then much softer, he tells Charles. “ We are all here to help.”

“Uh —”

“Thanks boys.” Pierre steps up. “I can take it from here.”

“And who are you?” Franco asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Your elder and Charles’ best friend. Now, do you want me to tell Max you all did a good job following his instructions?” The three nod eagerly. “Good. So now scurry off.” He shoos them away.

Charles watches them leave, continuing to argue amongst themselves. 

“Your man is doing some serious damage control.” Pierre comments idly, ignoring Charles’ little squawk of “Shut up Pierre!” He picks up the firewood in one hand and a bucket in the other. 

Charles picks up the basket of bread and leads the way inside. It was as cold as he left it this morning. 

He lights the fireplace first and foremost and begins picking at the bread immediately. He was too hungry, too cold and too tired to let his pride get in the way and not accept help.

The rest of the day he spends huddled with Pierre recounting stories back and forth, with Charles trying his best to keep his friend in the dark about just how hard the last few weeks had been. 

There was no need to dwell on the past.

Lando eventually comes around when night falls with Oscar in tow, his own arms filled with a dish brimming with warm soup.

“Seb will join us soon too.” He announces, pushing his way past Charles and setting the dish down in his small kitchen counter and already pulling out bowls and spoons for all to share.

Before Charles could ask Oscar about how the council meeting had ended, his attention was stolen by someone else. There was a new face with them. 

“I’m Alex.” The beta said, reaching out a hand to clasp Charles’, shaking it.

He had a gentle disposition about him, tanned skin and brown hair with a smile that seemed to ease everyone. There was something familiar about him too that Charles just couldn’t quite place.

“He’s from the Mercedes pack.” Oscar adds. “Says he could use some help with something medicine related. Told him you were the best we had.”

Charles blushes a little with the praise, waving it off. “No – he’s speaking too highly.”

“Of course not. I heard lots about you from Max and then Oscar here as well.” Alex smiles. “I could really use your help.”

It is honestly a little refreshing to see others still want some help from him. To know that his skills were useful.

“Sure, um –” Charles looks behind him at the ruckus his friends were creating in his small living space/kitchen. It was too cold to be outside, so the only space for them to speak alone was his bedroom. “We can talk here.” He says, gesturing so Alex could follow.

They take a seat, with Alex occupying his only chair and Charles on his cot. 

“Have we met before?” Charles asks, still not shaking off the familiar feeling he felt when he first met the beta.

Alex chuckles. “Maybe? I once lived here. It was a long time ago though.”

Charles furrows his brows, trying to rack his brain for anything but still coming up short.

“We used to use broomsticks and pretend we could fly?” Alex adds. And —

Oh!

“Alex, yes! Oh my god!” Charles launches himself across the small space to pull him into a hug. Finally recognising the tall scrawny kid from his childhood days. Alex was a couple of years older but they used to play together a lot. 

“God, it must’ve been over fifteen years ago now.” Charles says pulling back.

“Longer.” Alex replies, once again settling back into his chair. “It’s good to see you again Charles.”

Charles smiles, small but genuine. 

Back then Alex and his family had mysteriously disappeared and Charles had been too young to understand what had happened.

“So how have you been? Mercedes now? How did that happen? How are your siblings?” He shoots rapidfire questions, unable to contain his excitement at the prospect of meeting a childhood friend.

“I’ve been good and my sisters too. After Red Bull –” He trails off a bit, getting a melancholic look in his eyes. “It was hard for our family. Being thrown out of our only home, with nowhere to go. Lived like rogues for a few years before finding Lewis and Mercedes. He really helped us a lot. That whole pack just values community and doesn’t have hierarchies, it’s been really good. ”

The name Lewis rings a bell somewhere deep in his mind. There was no mistaking how reverently Alex had spoken of him but the more pressing information that Charles was just learning was that Alex and his family were thrown out.

“I’m sorry did you say you were thrown out?”

Alex shrugs. “Well Red Bull was never kind to outsiders.” 

Charles keeps staring, confused, something not quite clicking. Alex notices and frowns.

“Come on Charles. You surely know this. Either you are born into this pack or are useful enough to be kept. Otherwise the pack elders do everything in their power to exile you.”

Charles shakes his head, unsettled by the implication.

“Think about what happened to me, to Daniil, Liam, Checo and Daniel? ” Alex points out.

Charles gets a sinking feeling. “They — they didn’t leave by themselves?”

He almost doesn’t want to hear the answer. Asking feels foolish.

“The place we all called home? You really think we would leave of our own will?”

Charles gets it, he truly does. It was in wolves' very nature to bond with a pack for life, to always put the pack above their own wellbeing. The only exceptions to leaving a pack would be if they’d found a mate. Like Pierre left for Kika. Like Lando for Oscar. Otherwise it was unheard of to leave packs. 

He doesn’t understand how he never put two and two together, how he never saw that anyone who ever immigrated to Red Bull had eventually left. Charles just assumed that they were leaving because they had found something better.

He thinks about what Alex had just said, about being allowed to stay within the pack if you were useful. Then he thinks about who in their pack were currently outsiders.

It’s a bit jarring and eye-opening to realise that only he, Oscar and Lando were the outsiders.

Charles was useful in the medical hut, Oscar was a great hunter and useful at the border and Lando being his mate needed to stay.

Could it really —

Would Charles be thrown aside when the time came? 

He’s broken out of his downward spiral by Alex speaking up once again. “ — didn’t even wanna come back here but Max mentioned you could help so.”

Charles blinks. Then shakes himself off. 

“I’m sorry — what did you say?”

Alex frowns “Are you okay?” He asks instead.

Was he okay? It felt like his entire life had been built on a lie, the ground beneath him cracking, the walls closing in. But Alex was here, asking for help. Not from Charles the person, but from Charles the Healer.

Charles had always known how to split the two.

No matter how broken he felt inside, he would always try his best for those who needed him.

“I’m okay.” He tries to crack a reassuring smile but judging how Alex’s frown remains in place, Charles doesn’t think he did a great job. 

“I’m sorry this was my fault. I know today — hasn’t been great for you but I’m leaving tomorrow at sunrise and I’m desperate for any help we could get.”

There is a pleading tone in Alex’s voice, he could tell how much Alex feels guilt about asking him. But whatever happened to Charles within this pack had nothing to do with the beta and Alex shouldn’t have to feel guilt over trying to get a Healer’s assistance. 

“Of course Alex. I’m here to help in any way I can.” Charles reassures.

Alex smiles, grateful and begins recounting. 

“It’s about my mate, Lily. She’s an omega and since I’m a beta – I um, I can’t help her during her heats but recently it’s been getting worse for her. Her heats are lasting longer and seem to be more painful. She loses so much weight after them, can’t even stand or walk on her own. I’m worried for her, can’t help but think it’s my fault…” His voice cracks at the end. The pain and sadness evident in Alex's features.

This was a classic case of forming a bond with someone non-compatible to your biology. 

Beta and omega couples were rare. They used to be shunned and Charles had even heard of some backwards packs that still practiced this. 

It was mostly for safety. Like Alex had mentioned, alphas and omegas were genetically structured to help each other. A beta can’t handle an alpha during their ruts and similarly a beta couldn’t help an omega through their heat. 

But then again, his brilliant grandmother hadn’t been around back then. 

Once his grandmother had realised that betas can form genuine bonds with alphas and omegas, she’d begun working a way around this but passed before anything real came out of it.

Charles had taken her original idea and quietly built on it over the years. He was confident it worked. After all, he’d tested it on himself. 

But then, Charles didn’t have a mate. He didn’t carry a bond that pulled toward anyone the way Lily’s likely did.

It was still worth a shot. 

Charles gives Alex a nod. “First of all, this isn’t your fault Alex. You’re doing everything right by being there and caring for her.”

He walks over to a shelf, pulling out a small box. “These are some patches I made infused with synthetic alpha pheromones. They can help regulate heat symptoms. I um only ever tested on myself but it will be worth a try.” He offers. “Ideally I would like to meet her and do a checkup but I can understand in her state, it will be hard. But these should help in the meantime.”

“Wow. This is — thank you so much Charles!” Alex beams. “I really lost hope, you know. I really thought — fuck. ” Alex takes a staggering breath as relief blooms across his face. “I don't know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t met Max at Williams.”

The happiness is contagious and Charles can’t help smile too. “It might not work, it really —”

“But this is more than anyone has ever given us Charles! You have no idea how many Healers and how many packs we visited. This is just — thank you again.” 

Charles explains a few more technicalities on how to use the patches and any side effects to look out for before wrapping up with Alex and finally making their way to the main area of his hut. 

He just catches the end of a sentence.

“— you are the alphas you do it!” 

Charles notes how Seb was there at his kitchen table, laughing at the other three in front of the fireplace. Lando was pouting, arms crossed across his chest, Oscar looked about two seconds away from strangling Pierre while Pierre had a huge self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

“What did I miss?” Charles asks. 

“Cha!” Lando loudly calls out, walking over to him and looping their arms together. “All these alphas are bullying me!”

“Not me —” Oscar points out immediately. 

“Yes, not my Osc. But Pierre and Max are!” 

And – Charles flicks his eyes around and there he was, Max. Hidden in the kitchen, looking a bit sheepish. 

“Max?” He questions, eyes locking with the alpha.

“He’s the worst of them all. Said my soup tasted like salt water with floating vegetables!”

Charles tries to stifle a giggle but it slips out and before he knows it, he’s laughing outright, especially after Lando’s indignant — “Cha! Not you too!”

He had been a victim one too many times of Lando’s cooking. Honestly it was Oscar’s fault for enabling him this much.

While Oscar goes to comfort his mate, Charles heads to the kitchen to grab some food for himself. 

“You’re here.” He greets Max, pushing his way past.

Max completely bypasses all greetings to say — “Was it really necessary to have a discussion in your bedroom?”

Charles shoots him a glare. “Was it really necessary to send three baby alphas to my hut?” 

“It’s nothing.” Max waves him off. 

Did the alpha really think — “Max, I'm not thanking you for it.” He chides.

Max frowns a tiny bit. “Oh.”

He grabs a bowl and loads it up with the soup. Watered down be damned, this was going to be the best thing he had in weeks. 

“Where were you all this time?” Charles asks.

“Sorry, it took time to track everyone down and get their agreement to come testify.”

Max’s words hang in the air, heavy with guilt.

“So —” He begins carefully, a bit scared to know the answer. “What did the council decide?”

Max sighs which was never a good sign. 

“Carlos will be exiled only temporarily.”

“What!?” Charles just about screams, setting the bowl down so he doesn’t fling it across the room.

“He took accountability, begged on his knees, said he didn’t know any better and volunteered to raise the pups.” Max also looks about two seconds from exploding. “It was a fucking shit show.”

“What —” Charles is scared to ask the question but he had to know. “What about Rebecca and Isa?”

“All they ever wanted was for their pups to be acknowledged. God Charles —” Max voice breaks, emotion clawing at his throat. “You have no idea how I found them. Just — fuck , they were isolated, ridiculed by their entire pack. Locked away like some prisoners . Bruno doesn’t even get to go to school. All because they had a pup without a mating bite and couldn’t physically tell anyone who the alpha was.”

Charles' heart breaks even more.

He’d been experiencing the same exact things, on a smaller scale but nonetheless it had nearly broken him. But these omegas — under the voice for so long, being pregnant on top of that. God.

“So what happens with them? Do they just leave the pups here and go? Carlos can’t possibly mate the both of them.”

Max shakes his head. “None of them want Carlos as a mate. Can you blame them?” The alpha runs a shaky hand through his hair. “They obviously don’t want to stay here nor for the pups to grow up here. Not if Carlos was going to come back anyway.”

Charles can see how agitated Max was getting. 

“Max —” Charles gently says. “Then what will they do?”

Hearing how they were treated in their old packs, Charles cannot imagine them ever wanting to go back there.

“Alex says he will take them to Mercedes.” 

Again that name — it rang a bell. Something he couldn’t pinpoint just yet. But Charles knew Alex only had good things to say about that pack. 

“It will be good for them.” Max continues. “It’s high in the mountains, away from everything but Lewis is a good leader. He would protect them.”

“That’s good to hear.” Charles whispers. It doesn’t give those omegas back everything they lost. Their respect, their freewill, the years they endured under a command they couldn’t break and the fight they must’ve had with their instincts everyday.

Charles could only hope they find happiness at a new place. 

“Carlos will be back eventually then.” Charles mutters, the weight of that statement settling over him. “Max — I don’t think I can stay if he —” Charles trails off. 

Max averts his eyes, there's a dark expression on the alphas’s face. His voice is completely devoid of emotion when he says – “I’ll just have to make sure he never returns.” 

Charles doesn’t respond, not with words anyway. He looks up at Max, at those clear blue eyes that have always been just a bit too honest and something in him breaks loose. Something fragile and weary.

Max must see it on his face because in the next second he surges forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Charles’ waist, pulling him forward.

He freezes for a second then returns the embrace, his own arms coming up to lock around Max.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” Max whispers into his hair. 

Charles knows they need to talk more, he still has so many unanswered questions but for now he squeezes his arms tighter and allows himself to feel safe.

Chapter Text

The change in his feelings was — difficult to understand.

It wasn’t like one day he woke up and suddenly saw Max as more, it was subtle. So subtle that Charles hadn’t even realised he was in love until it quite literally hit him in the face.

Or more like Daniel hit him in the face… quite literally. 

Charles sputters, blinking as bits of crushed tulasi cling to his cheek. “What the hell?!” He hisses, turning to glare at Daniel, who was standing there looking entirely too smug for someone who just assaulted him with herbs.

Daniel just shrugs. “You weren’t listening.”

“I was! I agree with whatever you said.” Charles snaps, brushing green flecks off his face. 

“Right so you agree that moonfern can help turn an omega to an alpha?”

Charles blinks. “Uh —”

“Aha!” Daniel says. “You weren’t listening.”

“Because all you say is weird stuff! It’s a waste of my time” Charles argues.

Daniel raises an eyebrow, a sudden glint in his eyes that made Charles extremely nervous. “We can talk about your crush on my little brother if you’d prefer.”

Charles freezes for a second too long.

Daniel’s grin widens, all teeth and wicked amusement. “Oh my god. I wasn’t sure but you totally have one!”

Charles splutters, feeling the heat crawl up his neck and to his cheeks. “I do not! He’s just — we’re just — I’ve known him forever!”

“Exactly.” Daniel tosses another leaf at him, far gentler this time. “Childhood friends to lovers, the classic tale.”

“Daniel!”

“What? I think it’s cute,” Daniel says with an obnoxious smile. “And also obvious. You moon over him like he hung the stars. He says your name and you light up like a firefly. You –”

Charles groans and drops his head into his hands. “Please stop talking!”

“I should’ve known. It’s always Max this — Max that — Maxie, Maxie …”

“Shut up oh my god!” Charles hisses, throwing a wary glance towards Max who was only a few metres away. “He can hear you!”

But Daniel only laughs and flops down beside him, propping his chin on his palm. “Just promise me you’ll tell him someday. Preferably before you explode from repressed feelings.”

Charles snatches the bundle of tulasi from Daniel’s hands and plops it in the basket. “It’s not that simple.” He grumbles.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Daniel asks. “It’s not like you have to worry about unrequited feelings.” He states, matter of fact. When in fact, it wasn’t.

Charles doesn’t bother to reply. Just stares at his friend who was busy checking off items of the list their grandmother had passed them. Max was always so meticulous with these things. Always wants to impress his grandmother.

“Oy.” Daniel nudges his side. “It is that simple.” He insists. “You like him. He likes you.”

Charles whips around, eyes downcast. “He does not.”

Daniel just raises an eyebrow again, disbelief etched across his features. “Please. The boy follows you around like a puppy. He looks like he is ready to kill anyone who gets too close to you.”

Charles feels the tips of his ears burn. “He’s just… nice.”

“Nice.” Daniel echoes with a mocking snort. “Max is barely civil to half the pack but he’s nice to you? Wake up Charlie boy!”

Charles sighs, plucking a weed from the dirt with more force than necessary. He should’ve known inviting Daniel on their herb foraging trip would turn into a full-blown intervention. Apparently, thirty minutes alone with Max’s older brother was all it took for every buried feeling to be dragged into the light.

He was fifteen, barely even capable of understanding his own feelings let alone guessing what Max felt. 

Daniel was Max’s family but Charles knew him better. 

“Max is honest. If he returned my feelings, he would’ve confessed already.” Charles points out. Because this was something no one could argue against. Max was blunt. He was honest to a fault. He said things as they were. He would never sugarcoat anything.

Daniel hums, unbothered, watching him with the kind of I’ve lived longer than you and therefore much wiser look, that drives Charles up the wall. “Or maybe he is also just scared.”

Max? Scared? It sounded so laughable it was borderline offensive. Even at their young age Charles had seen Max do insane things. The boy was fearless — or maybe just pathologically reckless.

“He literally dove off the cliff to prove to Pierre that the lake below was deep enough.” Charles mutters, tossing another root into the basket.

“Yeah.” Daniel adds helpfully. “Almost broke a rib doing that.”

“Or that time he ran straight at that wild boar to ‘scare it off.’ With nothing but a stick.”

Daniel snorts. “Didn’t he also climb that massive pine tree on a dare and got stuck up there for three hours before anyone even noticed?”

Charles nods. “And let’s not forget the fight with that full-grown alpha from Mclaren. Over a stolen apple.”

“He was thirteen.” Daniel says, fond and exasperated all at once. “Absolutely feral.”

Charles shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips despite everything. “So no, Max doesn’t get scared.”

Daniel gives him a long look and this time the other alpha does seem wiser. “He doesn’t get scared of these. But feelings? Falling in love with someone who might not feel the same? That might just scare him shitless.”

“He —”

“Guys! Stop sitting around and wasting time! It’ll be nightfall soon and we’ve barely crossed half the list!” Comes Max’s voice, tinged with annoyance.

Charles huffs, dusting off his trousers and standing. “Maybe but the Max I know would confront things even if it scared him.”

“Well maybe you don’t know Max enough.” Daniel also rises. “I could help you if you wanted.”

Charles blinks at him, caught off guard by the sincerity laced beneath Daniel’s usual teasing tone. “Help me… how?”

“Talk to him.” Daniel shrugs. “Gauge his reaction?”

Charles shrieks. “No! I don’t want Max to know.”

“Relax! I won’t mention you. I’ll just say —” Daniel looks around as if the herbs around them had an answer. “I’ll just say that an omega from another pack is interested in him and see what his reaction is.” 

Charles furrows his brows. “How is that supposed to help me?”

“Well Charles –” Daniel loops an arm around his shoulder tugging him forward. “If I already had feelings for someone else then I wouldn’t care what other nameless faceless omega fancied me. At least this way you’d know how quickly Max will shoot them down.”

Charles grumbles. “You don't know whether he’d shoot them down.” 

“Which is why we try.” Daniel says brightly, then suddenly cups his hands around his mouth and yells across the clearing, “Maxie boy! Remember the Renault pack omega I told you about — ”

He doesn’t get to finish.

“Daniel!” A sharp voice echoes from the direction of the main clearing. One of the elder hunters stalks toward them, expression serious. “Your father has summoned you. Immediately.”

The colour drains from Daniel’s face. He straightens slowly, glancing once at Charles — something flickering in his eyes, something nervous — and then squares his shoulders.

“Looks like we’ll have to pick this up later.” His voice was filled with a fake cheer. Then he gives Charles’ shoulder one last squeeze and turns, heading toward the waiting elder.

Max eventually catches up to him, falling into step beside Charles with furrowed brows. “Where’s he going?”

Charles doesn’t look up right away, watching the retreating silhouette of Daniel being led toward the heart of the pack grounds. His voice is quiet when he replies. “Your father asked to speak with him.”

Max’s expression tightens instantly.

Charles stays rooted in place, arms loosely crossed over his chest as the distant voices fade. The sun was beginning to dip behind the trees, casting everything in that familiar golden hue. 

This was his favourite time of day but somehow it all felt wrong.

Off.

He didn’t know why.

For all Charles knew this could be a normal conversation between a parent and their son but he had a gut feeling that things were about to change.

At the time, he didn’t realise it would be the last time he’d ever see Daniel.

“Uh guys?” 

It’s Alex who speaks up and that’s when Charles realises he and Max had been putting on a little show. Still tangled in each other’s arms, they hadn’t noticed how the room had gone completely silent, every eye fixed on them.

“Um –” Alex continues awkwardly. “Just wanted to say thanks again and uh I should probably head out.”

“Nonsense.” Charles says quickly, stepping back and wiping his eyes, already missing the warmth of Max’s arms. How long had it been since they hugged like that? Years, probably. Centuries, it felt like. “Stay for dinner, at least. Come on, sit.”

He doesn’t wait for Alex to argue, already reaching for another bowl but the other beta stops him. “I really shouldn’t. I need to leave early tomorrow.” 

“Let me at least pack a box then.” Charles acquiesces, barely glancing at Max as he slips past him. 

The atmosphere shifts — the moment all but gone but the underlying warmth was still there. Charles ignores it.

Max silently walks away, cheeks tinged pink, while he turns to the pot and begins ladling soup into a box as it were the most difficult and precision requiring task.

It takes about two seconds before Lando is shoving his way in, his eyebrows raised. 

Before the other omega even opens his mouth, Charles is hushing him. “It was just a hug. I had a rough day.”

Lando softens immediately. “Oh Cha. I heard.” Then he hardens a little. “We need to talk about that by the way. I would not have cared to come and tell the council myself that nothing was going on between you and Oscar. Why would you choose to kneel instead!?” 

Charles sighs, setting the box in a small bag. “Because they will twist your words and somehow drag you into this whole mess. It wasn’t worth it.”

“But —”

“Hush you.” Charles pushes past him to hand Alex his package. “We are past it now.”

“Are we?” It’s Seb who speaks up, arms crossed across his chest. “The council don’t take being proven wrong lightly.”

Charles stills, heart giving an uneasy thump. “I know.” He replies quietly. 

They all settle around Charles’ small dining table after saying their goodbyes to Alex. The tight space forces Lando to perch comfortably in Oscar’s lap, laughing softly as he adjusts himself. But even that bit of lightness doesn’t cut through the heaviness that hangs over the group.

The weight of Seb’s words still lingers in the room.

Everyone knows what had just happened wasn’t the end — far from it.

The council not only let Charles off the hook but they were forced to confront and punish one of their own. 

Carlos’ father would be kicking up a storm. 

Their pack was established on the lands the Sainz family owned which gave them a bit too much power. Power they used to lighten the punishment for Carlos even when it was unfair. 

There is not knowing how low they’d stoop to protect their own. Whatever thin illusion of morals Charles thought the council had was now ripped away. Charles didn’t have faith in this pack anymore. 

Alex’s words ring in his mind then. The fact that Red Bull is never kind to outsiders. 

Was this the last straw for the council to finally see him as an outsider too? They already attempted to isolate Charles and punish him in their own way all these weeks. 

He wasn’t stupid. Max being at his hut, him in pre-heat, the words he’d said to Carlos at the medical hut and even the little interaction he had with Oscar alone, all of these things took mere hours before being spread like a wildfire amongst the pack. 

Whispers turned into rumours and rumours turned into accusations within a blink of an eye.

None of it was a coincidence. Everything felt deliberate. Like he was being set up. 

Charles clears his throat to break the silence. “Oscar –” He starts tentatively “— you mentioned that Adrain was sent to Aston Martin on purpose?” 

Oscar looks up. “Yes. I mean they don’t really pose Red Bull a threat but we found a few of their members lurking at our borders months ago. Alerted the council and Adrian had volunteered to go and see what was going on.”

“And Max, you weren’t aware of this?” Charles then asks.

Max shakes his head, slowly at first, then pauses, expression tightening. “I knew about the border sightings. I was still helping run border patrols at the time. But no one told me Adrian was sent for discussions.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Oscar says, frowning. “You weren’t at the meeting where the council discussed it. It was just me, Adrian and the elders.”

Charles leans back in his seat. “But then it doesn’t make sense. That night they came to my hut, they said Aston Martin wolves had crossed into our territory. That Adrian had been taken. And they needed to speak with Max urgently. ”

Seb, who’s been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, straightens. “Wait. How did they even know Max was at your hut?”

“Exactly.” Max says, looking around the table. “I hadn’t told anyone I was going. Even Charles didn’t know until I showed up.”

“Unless that was the plan all along?” Lando cuts in, eyes narrowing.

Everyone turns to look at him.

Lando continues. “They must’ve kept tabs on Max. Wanted to catch him at Charles’ hut. Alone. Then use some flimsy excuse to drag him away, keep him from being here when the accusations started. Isolate you. Discredit you. Make it easier for them because the one person who could testify against you was not here.”

Charles’ stomach twists.

Pierre frowns. “That’s a pretty elaborate scheme. And honestly, a bit sloppy. Max would’ve figured it all out the second he got to Aston Martin and saw Adrian went there willingly.”

“I would’ve.” Max agrees, then hesitates. “Except… I didn’t. Not really. Because Adrian – he doesn’t want to come back. Ever.”

A heavy silence settles over the table.

“What?” Charles breathes.

Max’s jaw tightens. “He doesn’t want to return. Adrian — he said the council was losing its morals and he couldn’t – he couldn’t stand by and encourage this.”

“But he’s one of the pack elders.” Seb says, disbelief clear in his voice. “He wouldn’t just—”

“He would.” Max cuts in, voice hard and final. “He did. He told me he made his choice.”

Lando runs a hand down his face. “The council must've known. They knew and yet sent you to bring him back knowing you would be unsuccessful anyway.”

“It gave them plenty of time.” Oscar adds. “Max would’ve been away for weeks or months trying to negotiate with Adrian and in the meantime they would’ve —”

“Punished me as they saw fit.” Charles finishes off.

“They probably didn’t even think Max would come back and let alone with some pretty damning evidence.” Seb adds.

Though it does little to soothe Charles because did the council truly plot all of this just to — just to take some petty revenge on him?

“Something doesn’t add up.” Oscar starts tentatively, voicing Charles’ thoughts. “Adrian has been here all this time, what made him want to walk away now? And all this just to punish Charles?”

“You’re right.” Seb nods once. “All this just to deal with Charles is weird. There must be another reason for it.”

“Someone needs to speak with Adrian.” Pierre chimes in. “Max, you didn’t press Adrian into giving you a reason?”

Max bristles slightly. “I didn’t exactly have time. As soon as I got the message about Charles from Seb I left to go to Williams.”

Charles shoots a thankful glance towards where Seb was standing. Although Charles wanted to shoulder the weight of everything himself, he still had friends who looked out for him.

“I can go.” Seb volunteers. “I know my way around Aston Martin, been there a few times to help in their medical hut plus Fernando is a good friend of mine. He can house me for a few days while I try to speak with Adrian.”

“I don’t think he’ll talk to anyone from Red Bull.” Lando says warily.

“He will to me.” Seb replies simply. “He still trusts me. Besides, I’m not exactly popular with the council either. If he’s truly done with them, he might see me as someone safe.”

Oscar shifts slightly in his seat. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I won’t.” Seb assures. “You should come with me. Pierre needs to go back to Kika and Max – well I think it’s better if Max remains here.”

Oscar nods slowly. “I’ll go.”

Lando twists slightly in Oscar’s lap, his hand coming up to cup his mate’s cheek. “Just be careful. If Adrian left for a reason, then… I doubt the council will be happy if he shares it.”

Oscar leans into Lando’s touch, his expression softening. “Of course I’ll be careful.”

Seb offers a small smile at the exchange, a flicker of warmth breaking through the tension. “I’ll look after him, I promise.”

“Look after each other.” Lando says instead.

Charles feels guilty though. He should be the one making the long trek to Aston and finding answers not leaving his friends to fight his battles for him. 

When he voices his thoughts all he gets in return is a slap on the hand from Pierre, a glare from Seb and an indignant — “This is beyond you. If our council is really doing something shady then we need to know.” – from Max.

His voice is stern but there’s a gentleness threaded through it. Charles hears it clearly enough, it was an unspoken plea for him to stop carrying the burden alone. 

When Charles gives a hesitant and quiet “Okay.” Max nods once, standing up. “That’s the plan then. You'll both start in the morning before dawn so you can quietly leave. We can tell the pack there was a medical emergency at Mclaren with some of Oscar’s old family and Seb went along to help.”

Everyone nods along, satisfied.

Charles finds himself repeating thank you more times than he can count, each expression of gratitude laced with a relief he hadn’t let himself feel in weeks. 

The quiet solidarity of his friends, the way they rallied around him without question and are willing to go above and beyond, settles something tight and lonely inside his chest. 

Eventually, the others begin to trickle out with Pierre offering a quick hug, Lando and Oscar exchanging one last look before following Seb out with a quiet promise to check in. 

The room empties and yet the silence doesn’t feel as lonely as it usually does.

Max is the only one who lingers.

He stands at the threshold, hesitant, hands twisting. “I was hoping you still had some energy to go for a run?”

Charles blinks, caught off guard. “A run?” He repeats.

Max nods. “Yeah. Those always seemed to help when your mind got too loud. You told me that once. Said it was like outrunning the noise for a little while.”

Charles pauses. He had said that — years ago, when they were barely more than pups and had started shifting for the first time. When the weight of the world still felt small enough to ignore if they just moved fast enough. He hadn’t thought Max remembered.

“I didn’t think you still…” He trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Max offers a small shrug, his eyes soft. “I remember most things about you.”

Charles looks down at his hands. They still smell faintly of soup and herbs but something still stirs in his chest – something warm and a little afraid. 

He was still not sure where they stood. Still hadn’t gotten all the answers he’d wanted but maybe after a run he could corner Max and demand those.

He gives a soft sigh, then lifts his gaze to meet Max’s. “Alright.”

Max’s lips twitch, a smile threatening to break through his carefully neutral expression. “I’ll meet you by the northern border!” He says excitedly and walks off.

The sky is a dull shade of grey by the time Charles arrives, the sun having dipped beneath the horizon long ago. The forest is quiet around him and only the faint sounds of crickets, wind through trees, the distant howl of a wolf could be heard. He lets the stillness settle over him like a second skin, grounding and familiar.

Charles lets the shift come slowly, deliberately. Bones snap. Muscle stretches and transforms, skin replaced by sleek fur the colour of a reddish hue. A kind of coppery chestnut that darkens ever so slightly down his spine and fades into a warm amber along his legs and underbelly. 

He’s smaller than most of the others in the pack, his frame lean and agile, built more for speed than brute strength. 

Maybe in another life he’d be racing too if he didn’t find the whole thing immoral. 

Fully standing on four legs, Charles shakes once, a shiver running down his spine, before tilting his nose to the air and letting out a happy little squeal. 

There was something that felt complete when he was embracing his true form.

Max arrives right at that moment. Still in his human form, frozen midstep, staring in awe. 

The alpha always did this. Took a few seconds sometimes minutes to admire him in his wolf form. Even though Max had travelled far and wide, seen many wolves from many regions, apparently no one compared to Charles.

His grandmother had said it was a quality unique to the Ferrari wolves. Their red coats majestic, almost golden in the setting sun. Makes sense Max had never seen them before, he was the last Ferrari wolf to live.

Charles gives an impatient little yip, urging Max to hurry.

Max laughs and shakes his head fondly but he ducks behind a shed for his own shift.

The alpha’s shift is always faster — less hesitant, more instinctive. His snow white coat a perfect contrast against the dark night, with those same sharp blue eyes that somehow become more intense in this form. He gives a low, familiar sound, something between a chuff and a huff, stepping forward.

Their wolves have always known how to communicate better than they did.

Max presses his snout lightly to Charles’ neck, a brief nudge of recognition. Charles feels the warmth of it bloom through him, resists the urge to lean in, to stay close.

The alpha jerks his head toward the forest and in the next second, he’s gone — a blur of white and motion.

Charles doesn’t hesitate and bolts after him.

The run is a release. It always has been. The stretch of limbs, the wind sluicing past him, the feel of earth beneath paws — it burns all the doubts from Charles’ mind, lets him simply be .

He forgets the council, forgets the judgment, forgets everything for a while — until he realises that Max had slowed down so they could run in sync for a brief moment.

Their paws hit the forest floor on a rhythm, both instinctively dancing to a beat only they knew.

Eventually Max darts ahead, circling back in playful loops tempting Charles to go faster. 

Charles answers with a growl and a burst of speed, nipping at Max’s side before veering right, making them chase each other through the trees and other foliage. 

The alpha begins pulling away, gives a chase, of course. His wolf is bigger, stronger, built for power and force but Charles has speed on his side. The distance between them lessens and widens like a playful game of tug-of-war. Max is close enough to nip at Charles’ tail once, a low playful howl in his throat. Charles yips in mock indignation and darts sideways.

They reach a clearing where the trees thin out and the sky opens up above them in streaks of dark blue and violet with stars that wink at him and that’s when Charles pauses — just a moment, a flicker of mischief coursing through him. A playfulness that he thought he’d lost to his younger days.

He glances back at Max, just as the alpha slows down, breath heavy, his fur ruffled and catching bits of leaf and twigs.

And then Charles lunges.

It’s not a particularly graceful pounce — it’s all momentum and instinct — but it’s enough to knock Max completely off balance. They stumble to the forest floor, Charles’ sharp bark of laughter caught in the back of his throat. Max grunts as he hits the mossy earth and Charles lands half-sprawled across the alpha, pinning him down.

Max huffs, ears twitching but doesn’t immediately try to throw him off. Instead, he lets out a low, amused sound, his sharp blue eyes flashing up at Charles with something softer behind them.

Charles leans down just a bit, his muzzle brushing Max's ear. Got you.

Cheater, is the response from Max but there’s no heat in it, only fondness, only the thrill of the chase and the unspoken closeness they’ve always shared.

Charles doesn’t move right away. The weight of him comfortable against Max and for a second it’s like time stills — no council, no accusations, no secrets. Just them. Just the way they’ve always known how to exist together in the quiet.

Then Max shifts just enough to roll them, flipping Charles beneath him in a quick twist and gives a short, satisfied growl of victory.

There’s something joyful in it too, something pure. 

They get up and run a bit more, leap over fallen logs and tear through shallow streams, leaving splashes of water behind them. 

Eventually, they slow, out of breath and spent, paws sinking into a patch of soft moss under an old willow he hadn’t visited in years. The moon casts a white glow down at them through the leaves — a fraction of light catching the two of them lying side by side, furs brushing, breaths steadying. 

He huddles just a little closer to steal the warmth from the alpha next to him. 

Charles nudges Max lightly with his nose. Max doesn’t move at first, then turns his head and meets Charles’ gaze. For a long moment, they just look . And Charles wonders — not for the first time — if their wolves understand the things they’ve never said aloud. 

Charles feels free. Feels like he could stay just like this. 

It could’ve been minutes or hours but eventually Charles feels a shift — not in movement but in scent.

Charles lifts his head first, nose twitching.

The air has changed. Gone is the crisp dryness of the night. Now it carries weight, a hushed static. He blinks, eyes tracking the darkened sky where clouds have begun to gather and blanket the stars and the moon.

Max notices it too, eyes flicking upward. There’s a brief moment where both of them simply watch the sky, motionless.

Then the first drop lands.

A soft splatter on Charles’ snout. He squeaks and jumps up.

Then another. And another. A gentle tapping, then a faster rhythm, until it becomes a gentle downpour.

Charles shakes his coat — the water sprays in a loose arc — and looks at Max. Max only tilts his head as if to say, what now?

He just answers with another shake, drenching the alpha more. 

Charles thinks Max will retaliate, braces himself from whatever Max will do but it never comes. Max just tilts his head and leads the way back.

They don’t run this time.

They walk.

Slowly, through the clearing and past the stream, the patter of rain muffling their steps. Max bumps against Charles lightly as they go, not enough to knock him off balance but enough to still remain playful.

Charles responds in kind, brushing shoulders, almost reverent. As if the rain has rinsed away some of their worries, leaving only their instincts behind.

Max was always like this in his wolf form. Playful and sweet. 

Eventually, they reach the shed at the edge of the pack grounds, their fur soaked and heavy from the rain. They duck inside, shaking off droplets and padding across the wooden floor.

This part used to be effortless. Shift, dress and move on — but now Charles trails behind, suddenly and painfully self conscious. Before they presented, it was easy. They were just pups fumbling through childhood together, unbothered by nakedness or proximity. 

Max steps inside first and doesn’t seem to notice the change — or if he does, he hides it well. He steps into the center of the shed, stretches once and with a practiced ease, lets the shift roll over him. 

The alpha’s back is to him, rainwater tracing lazy lines down his spine as skin replaces fur. The muscles there ripple slightly as he moves, the alpha completely unfazed by his nakedness. Charles’ eyes drift down, down, down, eyes greedy as they trace over pale skin of the alpha’s shoulders, to his waist, then hips and — he stills and turns away.

“Are you coming in or planning to stay there all night?” Max calls over his shoulder, voice light, teasing.

Charles bristles and stops the small whine from escaping. 

Max chuckles and moves as if he’s about to turn around and Charles really cannot see that so he darts out the door and listens keenly for the rustle of trousers to come before finally stepping inside. 

The moment he crosses the threshold, he lets the shift take him too and quickly ducks behind a wall. 

“Give me my clothes.” Charles asks, aware of the slight shiver his body has taken now that his fur was no longer keeping him warm.

Max doesn’t reply for a long time but then Charles hears footsteps closer and closer. A moment later, the alpha’s shadow rounds the corner — close, too close — and Charles lets out a startled squeak, reaching out to shove Max back.

“Max!” He hisses, extending his arm out. “Give me my clothes.” 

The alpha infuriatingly sighs and grumbles something about “nothing I haven’t seen before” and passes him the clothes.

He tries not to grimace as the fabric clings awkwardly to his damp skin, outlining the slope of his shoulders and the curve of his waist. It sticks slightly, nearly transparent in places but he pretends not to notice and hopes Max won’t either. He fixes his collar with fumbling fingers, cheeks flushed pink as he finishes tugging his trousers on.

He takes a deep breath, willing his pounding heart to settle before stepping out of the little side room where he’d taken refuge in. The air still held a damp chill from the rain but it wasn’t that which had him stuttering in his step.

Max was standing by the far bench, shirtless — head bent as he fumbled awkwardly with a long strip of cotton.

Charles’ eyes widened, then narrowed as the pieces fell into place.

“Your stitches!” He says, storming across the shed towards Max. “They haven’t healed?”

Max looked up, startled. “I was just—”

“Did you not get them checked with other healers?” Charles questions, already kneeling in front of him, fingers pushing aside the half-unravelled cotton. The wound at Max’s side was no longer fresh but the stitches were still taut against angry red skin. “Fuck —” He whispers. “These look bad Max. We need to re-do and —”

“It’s fine, doesn’t hurt and —”

“Doesn’t matter.” Charles snaps. “We need to go to the medical hut now.”

“But —”

Charles didn’t dignify that with a response, just a glare. His hands moved gently, far more focused on the task than the alpha in front of him — though that was easier said than done. Max was warm. Damp. His skin flushed from the run, from the rain and probably from Charles’ proximity. 

Max’s sea breeze scent was clouding everything from his senses to his movements, still Charles tries to mute his inner omega and tries to get his logical side to come forward. This was a patient, not an alpha he was in love with.

“Let me just redo this properly.” Charles mutters. “Hold still.” He instructs, working quickly, his fingers sure and practiced as he presses the cotton against the stitches, rewrapping it with practiced movements. 

“Thanks Charlie. You always take care of me.” Max says softly.

Charles didn’t look up. “That’s my job.”

“No.” Max said. “It’s not.”

Charles freezes, hand hovering midair. When he looks up, Max is watching him with something too tender in his gaze. Something Charles isn’t ready for. Something he wants anyway.

He swallows thickly and rises to his feet. “We will go to the medical hut so I can put some salve on it and then after we talk. ” Charles says pointedly. 

Charles leads the way silently. His mind is too preoccupied by everything that has happened and the answers he might finally get. 

Max too looks lost in his own thoughts so Charles just lets him be.

He knows what he wants to ask first. It always comes back to his grandmother and her asking Max to stay away, then it was the fact that Max hadn’t in fact stayed away and approached him a year ago. 

What he didn't expect upon reaching the medical hut was – Ollie.

“Ollie?” Max says, his eyes trained on where the other omega was just at the entrance, wringing his hands together, like he was hesitating to go inside.  

Charles watches with a small twinge in his chest as Max jogs the short distance between them to reach Ollie. “What’s wrong?”

Ollie jumps a little but composes himself quickly enough. “Oh — Max.” His eyes flick past Max to Charles who was a few steps behind. “Charles oh thank god!” The omega rushes forward, panicked and slightly crazed. “Can you help me? Please? It’s urgent.”

Charles falters, Ollie doesn’t look hurt per say but his eyes were swollen and red, his scent was so sickly sweet, it was almost overbearing. It clicks then — 

“Ollie are you – you are in pre-heat..” Charles observes, his eyes widening slightly when he realises how quickly Ollie was hurtling towards a full blown heat. 

“I know! I need suppressants now.” Ollie groans impatiently. There was something wild in Ollie’s gaze, his scent while sweet was all over the place. “Please.” He adds almost as an after thought. 

Charles nods, gesturing towards the entrance. Ollie’s panic was unsettling him too. 

The lights were off in the medical hut, meaning there were probably no patients inside which was a slight relief given how shaken Ollie is right now. 

Charles starts lighting the lanterns. “Just stay here I’ll get the scent suppressants —” 

“No!” Ollie just about screams, then catches himself. “Not – not just scent suppressants. I need the strongest ones you have. I — I can’t have my heat right now.” 

Charles narrows his eyes and looks at Max who was just off to the side, whose only response to his supposed future mate asking for heat suppressants was to shrug?

“Ollie –” Charles begins gently. “Heat suppressants aren’t … safe. Suppressing your scent should be enough for now. Then I can —”

“No Charles please!” Ollie grabs his hands, desperate. “Please — I just. I have this important thing and I – I need to be present for it.”

“What thing?”

“This — I —” Ollie stutters, the grip on his hands tightening. 

“Just give it to him, Charles.” Max eventually speaks. 

“Stay out of it Max.” Charles glares.

For the alpha it may sound simple but heat suppressants were dangerous, they messed with their biology too much, led to infertility, miscarriages and so many horrors that Max couldn’t potentially know all these. 

“Charles I promise it’s safe. I just need it this one time.” Ollie squeezes his arm once, his voice cracking. “ Please. ”

While there were many reasons for heats to be suppressed, Charles had never seen another omega this desperate. Ollie looked like he was ready to beg, grovel, get on his knees if asked. 

Charles doesn’t understand. Max was right there! While it was still taboo to share heats/ruts unmated in some packs, Red Bull was progressive in that sense. And especially for a couple that had been courting for as long Ollie and Max had, Charles always just assumed the two were spending their cycles together.

“Just this once.” Charles relents and goes to the back room to blend a few herbs together. He’s smart enough to not give Ollie the strongest ones, no matter how much the omega begged. 

When he returns to the main area he sees Max embracing Ollie, rubbing soothing circles down his back and murmuring something far too quiet for Charles to hear. He once ignores the tender sight in front of him and clears his throat. 

Charles waits until they separate before offering the herb blend to Ollie. “Here. Take this tonight and your heat should be controlled. The other doses are to be taken once every morning for the next two days.”

Ollie fiddles with the package and frowns. “I need more —”

“No.” Charles replies, short and sharp. “Come find me after three days. I want to do a checkup.”

The other omega looks disappointed but Charles will stand his ground here. 

“Thanks Charles.” Ollie eventually replies, then quickly plants a kiss on Max’s cheek and slips away. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Charles that the other omega hadn’t confirmed nor denied that he would come see Charles as he’d requested. 

“Explain.” Charles says once Ollie is out of earshot. 

Max sighs and settles on the cot. When he looks up, Charles notices how tired the alpha looks. 

“It’s Ollie’s choice.” He offers, simple and obvious.

“Max —” Charles knows this is a personal question to ask but right now he was prioritising being a Healer. “Do you and Ollie not share your cycles?”

The alpha shakes his head once. “Like I said, it's Ollie’s choice.”

Whatever answers Charles had wanted from Max flew out the window in light of this new information. Just how many secrets did the alpha keep from him?

“But I don’t — understand.” Charles says, then pauses, collects himself before asking – “Do you — do you love him?”

Max snaps his head up. “Of course I do.” He says instantly. But then hesitates, lips pressing together like he’s second-guessing himself. His gaze drops for a moment, thoughtful, unsure. “Not — not in that way but I care for him deeply.”

“That way?” Charles repeats, a little breathless and more than a little annoyed. “What do you mean?”

The alpha doesn’t reply for a long time, just stares at Charles. His gaze intense yet nervous. Charles meets his eyes head on, willing the alpha to be brave. 

It didn’t matter what was being implied if Max never admitted to it. 

If he was still being a coward. 

Charles urged him to say it and then maybe just maybe he could look past all the hurt inflicted on him. 

But Max doesn’t say anything. 

Charles doesn’t let himself feel disappointed when he inherently knew this would happen anyway. Max was still a coward.

The short, intimate moment they shared in the forest was practically nonexistent now.

Charles just didn’t care anymore. And once that thought plants its seed in his brain, suddenly the answers to everything don't seem as important to him.

Max had made a choice and understanding why those choices were made would not change Charles’ mind. Not anymore. His grandmother knew him the best, Charles loved her with all his heart and if she had asked Max to stay away then maybe that was for the better.

“You should come back tomorrow. Esteban can check on your stitches.” 

“What?” Max sits up a little straighter. “I thought — I thought you wanted to talk?”

Charles folds his arms across his chest, it was supposed to be intimidating but he was also  protecting himself. “Will you tell me everything honestly if I asked?”

“Charlie —  I want to. Trust me I do. But I just — can't. ”

“Then there’s no point.” Charles turns back, busying himself with turning the lanterns out so he can start locking up. “

“No point?” Max asks, his voice small, smaller than it has ever been. The medical hut floods with the scent of disappointment and sadness . 

Charles tries to ignore it, tries to think of all the ways Max had hurt him so far and how that hurt couldn’t possibly compare to whatever Max is feeling right now. 

“Do you think things would’ve been different if I wasn’t born as the Head Alpha’s son?” Max eventually asks. 

Charles doesn’t reply so Max continues. “Maybe then your grandmother wouldn’t have asked me to stay away. Maybe —”

“You will always be my friend Max.” Charles cuts him off. Because that much he could promise. 

No matter if Max reciprocated Charles’ feelings but couldn’t express them. 

Their friendship started off innocent. Just two pups who were trying to fit in, finding a place in each other. Such a pure relationship shouldn’t have a bitter ending. 

“And maybe it was for the better we remain that way.”

The next morning, he's jolted awake by a knock at his front door. Charles blinks his eyes open, squinting at the faint early morning light seeping in. With a groggy sigh, he pushes the blankets off, momentarily relishing the comforting warmth in his hut now that he finally has firewood.

He makes his way to the door and upon seeing Lando shivering on the doorstep, wastes no time in pulling it open and quickly ushering the other omega inside.

“Fuck it’s freezing.” Lando says, ducking inside and making a beeline straight to his small fireplace. 

“What’s going on?” Charles asks. He didn’t have a lot of firewood left and planned on saving them for tonight but he still threw one more in to keep the flames going noticing the quivering frame of his friend.

Lando sighs. “Sorry I woke you up.” He says instead.

Charles waves away the apology, guiding the both of them to the floor. He always kept a nest right in front of the fireplace, which was handy now as Lando huddled closer. “Couldn’t sleep after Oscar left.” Lando confesses.

Charles pulls him in closer, taking comfort in his friend too. “Oscar will be okay.”

“I know.” Lando leans his head down on his shoulder. “Just — never been separated from him for this long.”

Charles realises then that Lando and really most omegas lived like this. They stay with their families until they mate and then go to live with their alphas. 

Most omegas never tasted free will, independence and while Charles’ circumstances were forced, he couldn’t help but appreciate his freedom. 

“You can stay here if you like.” Charles offers. 

Lando immediately perks up. “Can I? I promise I won’t hinder you at all! I can even cook and clean.”

Charles laughs. “Please don’t cook and it’s fine. You don’t need to do these things. It’ll be kind of nice having someone around.” 

They spend the rest of the morning just talking and laughing amongst themselves before Charles eventually has to head to the medical hut for his morning shift. 

Outside he finds the now familiar faces of three baby alphas all wearing matching grins, looking way too awake for this early in the morning. 

“Good morning, Charles!” Isack chirps brightly.

“We’ve brought your supplies for the day.” Gabi announces proudly. 

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Franco adds, then grins wider. “Although… not quite as beautiful as you .”

Charles frowns. “Um…”

Isack elbows Franco. “Ignore him Charles. No deers today, just rabbits but it’s still fresh!”

“Was this enough firewood? I can chop some more!” Gabi says eagerly, pointing to the large pile of neatly cut wood.

“That’s um. Thank you? But you don’t need to do this anymore. My name has been cleared. I can get my rations just like everyone else.”

The three alphas glance at one another, uncertainty flickering across their faces. Isack shifts his weight awkwardly, while Gabi frowns and Franco scratches the back of his neck.

“Uh what do you mean your name’s been cleared?” Gabi asks slowly.

Charles pauses too, brows furrowing. “I mean exactly that. After the council meeting yesterday everything came to light.” 

The silence that follows is a little too long. The cheerful buzz from earlier fades. 

“But… no one told us.” Isack says confused. “I mean, we just thought since no one’s said anything…”

“That you still weren’t allowed to take food.” Franco finishes, quieter now. “Gabi here, didn’t even see your name on the list for firewood. He cut extra under Max’s instructions.” 

Charles bristles, something cold curling in his chest. “You mean the council didn’t make a public statement.”

They shake their heads.

Of course they wouldn’t. It wasn’t like Charles had expected for the council to accept their mistake and apologise but he’d at least expected to get his rations back. 

“We heard a few things… whispers.” Gabi says, voice still unsure. “Most members were still talking about you at pack dinner yesterday and …”

Charles exhales slowly through his nose, trying to bite back the annoyance rising in his throat.

“What were they saying?”

“Oh just…you weren’t apologetic and Max showed up and tried to cover his own – um — mistakes?” Gabi answers. 

Not only Charles was being compromised but Max was too? 

“And Carlos? What are they saying about him?”

Franco frowns. “What’s wrong with Carlos?”

Fuck. Of course the council would try to bury the horrendous things Carlos had done. It was so typical. Charles shouldn’t have expected any less.

“We’re sorry.” Isack says quickly. “We didn’t mean to overstep. You know you helped my grandfather a lot when he was sick so I just wanted to return the favour.”

“Yes! We don’t believe anything they are saying.” Gabi nods.

Charles’ face softens at that. The anger simmering.

“You didn’t overstep.” He says gently. “Thank you for bringing me these.”

The three brighten at that, just a little.

“But you don’t have to keep bringing supplies.” Charles adds. “I will get my quota like I deserve.”

They all nod when Franco grins. “Can I still bring you any extra game I hunt?”

Charles huffs a laugh. “Only if you stop flirting while you’re at it.”

“No promises.”

With his accusations cleared and Seb away, Charles really hoped, maybe foolishly, that his pack members weren’t hostile towards him anymore. That they especially wouldn’t refuse his treatment anymore and yet —

“Esteban cannot help with a delivery, Jack. He is unqualified.” Charles repeats for the umpteenth time.

The omega in question is still a few minutes or even an hour away from labour but her alpha has brought her in early, clearly anxious and overly protective. Charles was happy to make her comfortable and give her some soothing herbs to help calm her but her alpha growled everytime Charles even got close. 

Jack scowls. “Well, I’m not letting you touch her. I won’t have my pup tainted by your hands – ”

Charles cuts him off, voice steely now. “Unless you're willing to risk the lives of your omega and your unborn pup then —”

The alpha gasps sharply, stumbling back a step as if struck. His eyes flare red with outrage. “Are you seriously threatening me right now?” He spits.

Charles sighs and brings his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m only trying to help here —”

“You can help by staying away from us. What if your whorishness rubs off on our pup?”

He barely suppresses a scoff at the stupidity of this whole situation, still trying to think of a way to reason with the alpha. There were still two lives at stake here.

Clara remained silent. Not offering any of her own opinions while the alpha spoke for both of them. Part of Charles wanted to shake her and ask her what she really thought.

Charles knew enough to know that during birth having their mate and a fellow omega created the safest environment. 

“What do you think Clara?” He asks, as a last bid to help them both.

Clara looks torn, biting her lips as she casts a nervous glance towards her mate. “I – I um…”

“She wouldn’t know what’s best for our pup!” The alpha yells once more. “What’s the point of having so many Healers when you are all fucking useless?”

Charles shoots a sharp glare the alpha’s way. It was one thing dismissing him but all Healers? That was crossing a line.

Esteban looks as helpless as Charles feels. “Maybe you can guide me?” He offers, weakly. 

“No.” 

A single syllable, sharp and cutting, laced with a threat belonged to Max. 

The alpha is pushing his way inside and inserting himself in the midst of the commotion, all furrowed brows and downturned lips.

Charles wanted to groan, wanted to bristle because of course Max would come back again . It was like he didn’t take Charles’ words seriously. 

How was Max any different to all the others isolating him? 

They all just refused to listen to him.

He’s about to interfere and tell Max to mind his own business when —

“I was asked to come here for treatment from Esteban.” Max says pointedly, his gaze locking onto Jack.

Esteban straightens up, completely lost. “I – um what?”

Max gestures vaguely to Charles. “My friend here asked me to. Plus we wouldn’t want Charles treating an alpha lest everyone get the wrong idea again.” 

Charles tries not to cringe at the word friend , it was after all what he’d asked for.

“What was it you called him?” Max says, tone dangerously casual. “I forget. Something about what he is?”

The room is still. Jack shifts nervously.

Max cocks his head. “Well?” He prods. “A whore , was it?”

Jack audibly gulps, taking a slow step back.

“I —”

“Someone who slaved away at the medical hut for days on end is a whore?” Max grits, his tone murderous. 

His tone sharpens, every word landing like a blow.

“What happened to last winter when Charles spent hours stitching that leg of yours when you were stupid enough to challenge a wild boar?”

Jack doesn’t answer. He can’t. His mouth is open but nothing comes out.

Max takes a step forward. “Maybe he should’ve let you be a cripple, no?”

Jack looks like he wants to disappear.

“Very well then.” Max relents. “Why don’t you take your omega to another pack since our pack’s Healers are not good enough for you.” 

Jack looks panicked. “Max, the next pack is two hours away. We can’t –” He shoots a nervous look at Clara who now had sweat lining her forehead, her breathing lightly laboured. “My mate she will —”

But Max doesn’t acknowledge him. He turns his back without a word and strides over to one of the cots, settling himself down. He peels off the layers of his outerwear slowly. Then, as silence stretches around them, he lifts a hand and makes a lazy gesture toward Esteban.

“Well?” He says. “I don’t have all day. I need these stitches looked at.”

Esteban just looks to Charles for guidance. 

But Charles himself feels a bit frozen too and before he could even parse out what the hell to do, Clara lets out a little whimper, her knees buckling.

Jack is immediately at her side, holding her up. “Clara!” 

She’s hit with another contraction, her hands flying to her stomach. “Jack, it hurts.” 

“I have to meet the council soon, Esteban.” Max calls over, his tone still very much casual.

“Max!” Charles hisses. “Now is not the time —”

Max waves him off. “Jack has it all under control. He clearly doesn’t think you are competent enough.”

Clara lets out another pained whimper. “Please someone do something!” She screams.

Charles had never felt so torn. Every instinct in him wanted to help but he wasn’t sure what hostile reaction Jack would have.

Jack, on the other hand, looks towards his mate’s face. Blotchy, red and contorted with pain and finally, finally , whatever wall he was clinging to breaks.

He turns toward Charles, voice trembling. “Please. Help her. I’m sorry — I was wrong. Just please.”

Charles doesn’t waste another second. He’s already moving, rolling his sleeves and barking out instructions. “Esteban, prepare the birthing kit. Get fresh cloths and boil water. Now.”

He guides Clara to the birthing ward. “Jack, help me lower her slowly. Clara, try to breathe through it. Short inhales, long exhales, just like we practiced.”

Six hours later, he was holding a tiny, wrinkled pup in his arms. Still warm, pink and wailing with all the strength her little lungs could muster.

Charles let out a shaky breath, sweat clinging to his brow, legs still a bit shaky after the hours he’d spent standing up as he gently swaddles the newborn and passes her into Clara’s waiting arms.

The labour had turned out to be more difficult than either of them anticipated. The pup had been misaligned in the womb, making each second that passed more dangerous as Clara’s energy dwindled.

Charles had done his best, crushing herbs to ease her pain, coaxing her through every wave of contraction, gently massaging her belly to help guide the pup along. 

It was all worth it.

“She’s beautiful.” He murmurs, voice barely a whisper. 

Clara looks up at him with tears in her eyes. Grateful, tired but finally smiling. 

When Charles glanced up, he saw Jack lingering next to the cot, watching. Not with judgment this time.

“Thank you Charles.” Jack says, his voice cracking midway.

Charles gives a quiet nod, brushing off their murmured gratitude with a wave of his hand. He slips out to give them some privacy.

Once outside, he just about collapses onto a chair. His limbs heavy with exhaustion. He doesn’t even realize he’s not alone until a voice speaks gently from nearby.

“How was it?” Lando asks, stepping closer. “I brought lunch. Though… it might be dinner by now.”

Charles lifts his head slowly, blinking at him, taking a moment to process the words with his mind still very hazy. 

“Didn’t know you have a housewife now.” Comes another amused voice. 

Lando swats at Max. “Shut up!”

“What?” The alpha rubs at where he was hit by Lando. “You live together now, you bring him lunch at work. Sounds like a housewife to me.” He teases.

Charles sits a little straighter in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching up at their banter.

“Don’t be jealous Max.” Lando says sickly sweet, batting his lashes.

Max just scrunches his face. “Please. If I had to eat your cooking everyday, I’d rather poison myself.” 

Lando gasps, hand over his heart. “You hear that Charles? He doesn’t appreciate home cooked meals.”

Charles chuckles, finally feeling a little more light-hearted. “I think your soup has traumatised him.” 

“Calling it soup is offensive to all soups.” Max adds.

Lando turns a dangerous shade of red, clearly seconds from combusting and Charles, sensing imminent disaster, swoops in.

“I’m starving!” He announces, eagerly reaching for the box Lando had brought. His stomach growls loudly, right on cue.

He flips the lid open and — “Oh.”

Lando bounds over, beaming. “It’s fried veggies and rice!” He says, clearly proud of himself.

Max leans over to peer inside and then immediately snorts. “Did you fry charcoal? Why is everything black?”

“It’s just a little burnt.” Lando huffs.

Max raises an eyebrow. “By little do you mean all of it?”

Charles hesitates, then scoops up what looks vaguely like a carrot. He pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly. 

He tries to hide his grimace — fails.

The bitterness hits instantly and his whole face twitches before he schools it. “Mm.” He says weakly, forcing a swallow. “Crunchy.”

Max sighs beside him and pulls the box away. “Don’t eat that you’ll get sick.” He places another, slightly bigger box in his lap. “Eat this.”

Charles tentatively pulls back the lid. It was tomato soup. “This is my —”

“Your favourite I know.” Max replies with a cocky grin. 

Lando grumbles about no one appreciating him and missing Oscar but Charles doesn’t let him leave and pulls the other omega into the seat beside him. “Did you have dinner? Let’s eat together.”

“But I made this for you!” Max says indignantly.

Charles can’t help laugh, picturing the alpha in a kitchen but when Max just keeps staring at him, he realises that Max was telling the truth.

“Oh. You actually — you made it?”

Max rolls his eyes. “Yes, that's what I just said.”

Charles smothers the small smile threatening to break out and takes a spoonful to taste. It’s a little salty and a little too thick and yet — “It’s perfect.” 

Max beams, his eyes crinkling, teeth on full display. 

It hits Charles with a wave of memory. It’s the same smile Max used to wear when Mamie agreed to let Charles play with him even though it was well past both of their bedtimes.

The moment is ruined by a —

“Bleh!” Lando gags. “This is so salty! Charles, are your tastebuds okay!?”

Max promptly yanks the spoon out of Lando’s hands. “I think your own cooking has destroyed your tastebuds.” 

“Oscar finds my cooking delightful!”

“Clearly you have killed Oscar’s tastebuds too!”

“Please as if —”

“Guys!” Charles finally yells, trying to control these two literal pups fighting in front of him. “This is a medical hut. Behave.”

Max and Lando both look thoroughly chastised but Charles can’t put up the reprimanding front anymore and cracks a smile.  “But you both should stay away from kitchens. Please.” 

Max snaps his head up. “What? You literally just said it was perfect!”

“He was trying to save your big alpha ego.” Lando snickers. 

“At least mine look edible!” Max counters.

Lando throws his hands up. “You are so dramatic. Oscar said – ”

“ — Oscar has no taste.” Max cuts in, then does a pointed scan up and down Lando’s body. “Clearly.”

Charles chokes on his spoon and just about jumps up in time before Lando lunges for Max, standing protectively in front of the alpha. “Lando — calm down. He was just joking.”

“Charles! You are laughing too!” Lando accuses and stumps his foot. 

“I’m not.” Charles tries to say but Max was cackling like a hyena behind him and it was making it that much harder for him to maintain a straight face. 

The moment breaks sharply with the sound of frantic footsteps rushing towards them.

Laughter fading when Geri rushes up to him, breathless, her eyes wide with fear. “Please help! My Ollie, he’s —”

“What’s wrong with Ollie?” Max asks, concern flashing across his face.

Geri stammers, words tumbling and failing her. She can only point back toward their home. “He fainted — Please help him! ”

She points behind her shoulder and takes off running. Charles doesn’t hesitate to grab his small medical kit and sprinting after her with Max and Lando close behind.

They race past the edge of their pack grounds to avoid crowds, cutting through narrow paths between huts, Geri calling over her shoulder for them to hurry. The closer they get, the more erratic her scent becomes. Thick with fear, pungent with panic. 

Charles’ heart pounds harder with every step.

Geri throws open the front door and beelines towards a room at the back. Charles gestures for Max and Lando to wait and follows behind.

But he stumbles to a halt the second he reaches Ollie’s room.

Ollie’s collapsed on the floor, his body wracking with violent shivers. His breathing is shallow and short. Skin far too pale. His scent screams pain and distress.

Charles drops to his knees beside him. “Ollie, oh my god —” His hands move instinctively. Checking his pulse, brushing damp hair from his forehead, assessing the tremors. 

This wasn’t just a faint. Something was very wrong.

Chapter Text

Max stands frozen in the doorway.

Charles had told him and Lando to wait outside but Max sees it — sees the state Ollie is in. Quivering on the floor, choking on the meagre air he is breathing in and thrashing around while tears roll down his pale cheeks.

Charles yells at him to get out of the way, that he is blocking the door. But Max couldn’t — he couldn’t get his legs moving so eventually Lando had just pushed and pulled until Max isn’t hindering everyone. 

He lets it happen, doesn't protest, lets himself be moved. Trusts anyone other than himself right now because — it was happening again.

How is it every time he tried to protect someone it backfired so immensely?

Daniel. His Ma. Vic. Charles. And now — Ollie.

The scent of distress hangs thick in the air. Bitter vanilla, so sharp and potent, coating the back of his throat. Max can almost taste the fear, Ollie’s fear, on the back of his tongue. 

He grips the doorframe until his knuckles go white, jaw clenched so hard it aches. His instincts scream at him — useless. So fucking useless. 

It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff and watching the people he loves fall off, while he just stands there — a few steps too far to save them but enough to see them tumble down into the endless void.

He watched it happen to his Ma, to Daniel and he stopped before it could happen to his sister. Sent her away to be mated into another pack. She was happier and safer there than here anyway. 

He tried to stop it before it could happen to Charles too. But the stubborn omega always climbed back over the walls he’d built. He should’ve known, Charles was a fighter. 

Still, he managed to keep Charles away from him with harsh words and ignorance.

Now Ollie. 

The sweet pup who’d clung to Max, all wide eyes and stumbling words. 

Ollie hadn’t asked for anything but his promise to secrecy and some semblance of a friendship. Max had given it thinking what's the worst that could happen?

He was facing those consequences now. 

Max should’ve questioned more but he took Ollie’s smiles and sweet words to think that everything was okay now. That Ollie was fine.

He wasn’t — Ollie was far from fine. He probably hadn’t been fine this entire time and Max didn’t even fucking know.

And what terrified him most was he didn’t know if he could fix this now.

Charles walks out in the next second, a furrow between his brows but otherwise looks calm and collected. 

“Geri, get me some hot water. Lando, I need you to find a mortar and pestle.” There is no shake in his voice. His instructions were clear, precise and to the point. 

A ray of clarity in the midst of the storm. 

That’s what Charles always was to him. Strong. So fierce and confident. The only one standing amidst all the walls crumbling down. 

“Max!” Came a voice, then a sharp tug which pulled him from his thoughts. “Max, can you go to the medical hut? I need lavender, chamomile and willow bark.” 

“I don’t —” Max took a stuttering breath. Those herbs sounded strange to him, as if Charles was speaking a foreign language. “What?”

“Max!” Charles says, this time a bit more sharply. “Get it together! Lavender, chamomile and willow bark.” He repeats as if it was supposed to help.

Max licks his lips, willing his head to stop pounding so much. “Um okay. Okay. W-what do they look like?”

Charles frowns, another sharp retort on his tongue ready to be spewed because Max is probably wasting precious time. But then Charles softens at whatever he sees on Max’s face. 

The omega’s hand lifts to gently cup his cheek. “Come on Max. Ollie needs you right now. He’ll be okay but he needs you okay? You know what these herbs look like. You used to help Mamie remember?” Charles’ voice was so soft, like he was talking to a startled animal. So gentle. Always gentle. “Can you do this for me? Please.”

Anything. He’d do anything for Charles.

“Lavender, chamomile and willow bark.” Max repeats out loud while he mentally imagines what those looked like and finally his brain paints some familiar pictures. 

Charles smiles, not bright but there. “Good. All of them are to the left on the second shelf in the back room. Very easy to spot.”

Max nods. Second shelf to the left. He repeats in his mind and wills everything else to go away and takes off in a sprint. 

His body moves on autopilot, running through the familiar paths of his pack. The pack he was supposed to rule one day. The pack that was his everything and also his ruin.

He reaches the medical hut in record time and goes straight to the back, he grabs what he needs, willing his hands to stop shaking so much. 

Charles was there. He would make sure nothing happened to Ollie. 

Max still remembers the scrawny, small pup that Ollie used to be. Taller than the pups his age, bambi eyes and the softest voice. 

Their families lived just two huts apart with Ollie always orbiting around Max. He’d slipped into Max’s life so easily, never asking for space, just quietly carving out his own. 

Max didn’t question Ollie’s presence much back then, too busy dealing with everything else.

Back then his mind and heart had been a mess. Max fell for his best friend while his brother was slowly pulling away and his father reminded him on the daily, that Daniel was just his half brother who he shouldn’t get attached to.

Ollie had still been there though. At family dinners when Christian was invited to their hut. Whenever his Ma invited Ollie’s mother for afternoon tea, Geri would bring along Ollie. 

Max regrets not trying enough to get to know Ollie back then. 

The omega only ever wanted a friendship. Always isolated from others his age because of who he was. An omega born into an affluent family. 

The clothes he wore, the things he carried, down to the way he talked — everything had set him apart. 

Max hadn’t experienced the same isolation despite being born into an affluent family too. But when he’d told Ollie that, the other omega just laughed at him and said — “That’s because you had Charles with you all the time.” 

He supposes that made sense. 

Charles had been his only friend back then. 

It was always Charles who had other friends. Pierre, Seb and now Oscar and Lando. 

Not that he blamed anyone for wanting to know Charles. 

He had that magnetism to him. One that made everyone gravitate towards him unconsciously. Max had experienced that when he was only three. 

He was just lucky Charles wanted him around as much as had. 

Max had Charles and then he didn’t have Charles anymore. But he had Ollie now.

He rushes outside and runs all the way back to Ollie’s home. Charles meets him at the doorway, grabbing everything and going straight to where Ollie was still on the floor, convulsing.  

Lingering just outside the door he sees Charles drop to his knees and gather Ollie close. 

He begins crushing some dried leaves between his fingers, sprinkling them into a bowl, followed by a root of some sort. A few drops of oil from a tiny clay bottle, mugwort maybe Max thinks, join the mix. 

Max doesn't know what each herb is meant to do but he sees the intention in every one.

Watching Charles like this, in his zone, so completely in control of everything, it was such a stark reminder of how his grandmother used to be. 

The calmness in chaos. 

The tiny pup who was mocked and ridiculed for not having parents and yet had saved so many lives, brought so many lives into this world. His grandmother would be so proud to see Charles like this. 

Max was so proud to see Charles like this. 

When Geri returns with the hot water, Charles pours it carefully over the herbs. He dips a cloth into the mixture, wrings it out, then places it against the back of Ollie’s neck and forehead, murmuring soothing words the whole time.

“Ollie, you’re safe now. Breathe for me. Just breathe.”

Ollie’s body is still trembling but there’s a stutter now — a slowing. The frantic edges of panic begin to smooth out. 

“Lando, can you crush this lavender and willow bark for me please?” He asks while his attention remains on Ollie. “Geri, please brew this chamomile into a tea.” 

Charles grabs a salve and begins rubbing it along Ollie’s pulse points. Temples, wrists, behind the ears — an old trick for calming. The scent of it is heady with rosemary, thyme and mint.

Max’s chest loosens just a little. His wild palpating heart and even wilder thoughts slowing at seeing Charles work with practiced motions and a steadiness that helped contain the panic of everyone around him.

Charles begins to massage Ollie’s chest gently, in wide, sweeping motions that match the rhythm of his own breathing, guiding Ollie to match it. In and out. 

And then —

The shaking finally subsides with Ollie going still in Charles’ hold. 

Max exhales sharply, only just realising how tightly he’d been clenching his fists. Ollie’s breathing steadies into short but even gulps. His body going slack, not limp, just — at peace.

Charles doesn’t stop until he’s sure. Even then, he lingers, brushing a hand through Ollie’s damp hair, checking his pulse one last time, whispering something too soft for Max to hear.

Ollie doesn’t reply at all. His eyes blank as they stare off into nothing. 

Only when Charles is satisfied does he look up at Max. “Help me get him to his cot.” 

Max moves immediately, eager to help anyway he could. 

He crouches beside Ollie, sliding one arm beneath the omega’s trembling shoulders and the other under his knees noting how Ollie’s skin is burning to the touch, a sharp contrast to the cold sweat dampening his brow.

Carefully, Max lifts him. The weight is nothing. It's the fragility that unnerves him. As if Ollie might break in his arms if he held too tight. 

He moves to the cot and lowers him gently, adjusting the pillow beneath Ollie’s head and pulling a blanket over his frame.

“I’ve got you.” Max murmurs, though he isn’t sure Ollie hears. “You’ll be okay.”

Ollie’s eyes briefly flicker to his face but there’s no recognition there, almost as if he’s looking past Max. 

“Ollie? Do — can you hear me?”

A slight nod but nothing more. 

His heart clenches so tight, it physically hurts. It hurts to see another person he’s failed to protect suffer because of his uselessness. 

“I’m here okay? Just — I’m here. Always.” 

Max steps back, eyes flicking to Charles, waiting — needing — the omega’s next instruction like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

Charles looks between them, his green eyes sharp and assessing. 

“You should go now.” He says calmly. “I will need to examine him some more and then hopefully speak with him.”

“What’s wrong with Ollie?” Max asks, unable to help himself.

Charles exhales a slow breath, settling down beside Ollie, fingers pressing to the omega’s wrist to check his pulse again. His expression tightens. “All signs point to a suppressant overdose.”

Max’s stomach drops but before the panic can settle, Charles continues.

“But—” He lifts his gaze to Max, expression grim with something between confusion and unease. “It makes no sense. I didn’t give him nearly enough for this kind of reaction.”

Max nods immediately. He’d seen it with his own eyes — the dose, the care Charles took. Still, even if he hadn’t seen it, Max wouldn’t have doubted him. Charles was smart and sensitive when it came to omegas and taking care of them. He wouldn’t ever put someone in danger.

Charles looks back down at Ollie, his voice a touch quieter now. “Something else is strange. This kind of reaction only happens with prolonged use. And with much stronger suppressants than what I gave him.”

Max frowns. “Is it possible his body just — I don’t know, reacted to it weirdly? Maybe an allergy?”

Charles shakes his head without hesitation. “No. If this were an allergic reaction, there’d be hives, swelling, a respiratory shutdown. This – ” He gestures to where Ollie was still trembling a bit “ — this is neurological. It’s something else entirely.”

A heavy silence falls between them, the implications sinking in fast. 

Someone had been giving Ollie suppressants long before Charles. And whatever they were, they weren’t safe.

“I will stay with him. Can you send Geri inside so I can explain to her as well?”

“Of course.” Max makes to leave, then hesitates — “Will he be okay?”

Charles nods. Small but confident. “Yes. I will make sure of it.”

It was some relief — just enough for Max to step outside and let Charles do whatever he needed to. 

“Go inside. Charles wants to speak to you.” Max tells Geri gently. 

She hesitates only a moment before nodding and slipping through the door. She is probably afraid of what news Charles had to offer.

Max exhales, the tension still clinging to his spine as he drops into the nearest chair. His legs feel like lead. His mind even heavier.

Lando wordlessly hands him a glass of water and Max takes it with a quiet “Thanks.” The water’s cool against his palm, grounding in a way nothing else is.

The world around him blurs slightly — movement, voices, maybe even Christian arriving — but it all fades to background noise.

Because in his mind, it’s just him and the memories again. 

It was supposed to be a normal night at the border. Quiet. Uneventful. Routine.

Patrols had been doubled lately, a precaution against the recent surge in rogue population but luckily Max had drawn the western side — the quietest stretch. He was all alone here with nothing but the breeze and distant animal sounds.

The night was deceptively peaceful. The kind that lulled you into a false sense of safety. Warm enough to shed his outer layer but the cold breeze made him shiver every now and then. It was the perfect weather for a late run or — more temptingly — a nap under the stars.

He was just starting to seriously consider it, debating between laying in the grass or curling up in his wolf form, when a sudden rustling cut through the stillness.

Max snapped to attention, instincts flaring as the rustling continued. He moved cautiously toward the bushes nestled just inside the pack’s border — it could be a lost deer, maybe even a bear but something in the air made him pause.

The scent hit him before he saw anything.

Sweet. Heavy. Cloying. The unmistakable scent of an omega.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His pulse jumped, body going rigid with instinct as he held himself still. This wasn’t just any omega — they were either in heat or had just come out of one. 

The scent was too thick, too potent to be anything else.

Max gritted his teeth.

Any other alpha might’ve felt the allure of it, might’ve been tempted but not him. Not anymore.

Any scent that wasn’t cherries made him nauseous. 

Still an omega out in the open was suspicious. 

He pulled back the foliage just enough to peek inside and — 

“Ollie?”

He was barefoot, wearing the thinnest tunics, slightly oversized and hanging on his frame. The end of his trousers were matted with mud. There were leaves and twigs in his hair.

His skin was pale, almost a sickly grey in the moonlight and there were dark circles under his eyes. His lips were chapped, bleeding and bitten raw in some places.

It was clear that Ollie had just presented. He was the right age and Max hadn't previously picked up a scent on him.

But Ollie looked horrible.

And yet — the omega cracked the faintest smile at his presence. Just a slight curve of his lips, a flicker of something like relief softening the haunted look in his eyes.

“Max.”

It was barely a whisper and before the name had even slipped past his lips Ollie stumbled forward and collapsed into him.

Max caught him instinctively, his arms coming up to tentatively rap around the trembling omega. Ollie clung to him like a lifeline, fingers twisting into the back of Max’s shirt, his entire frame shaking still. From the cold or from something else Max wasn’t sure.

Something had happened to Ollie.

Something bad.

Max held him tighter, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Ollie’s head as he whispered. “You’re okay.”

But even as he said it, Max wasn’t sure how much safety he could actually offer.

Ollie and he weren’t close, not really, despite the many attempts the younger omega had made over the years striking up casual conversations, Max had always shut it down.

He knew his father approved of Ollie. Had said more than once that the boy came from “good stock.” That it was only a matter of time before he presented as omega and would make an ideal mate. An ideal future Head Omega.

The suggestion hadn’t been subtle.  And Max, knowing that, had kept Ollie at arm’s length.

Because for as long as he could remember, his alpha had already chosen. It had always been Charles.

And even now with the knowledge that he couldn’t have Charles, he’d decided he could live the rest of his life alone.

If it wasn’t Charles, it would be no one.

So he’d never let himself look at Ollie. Not like that.

Max pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him properly and that’s when he’d caught it.

There, beneath the sweat and fear and sweet scent of vanilla, there was something else. Muted but unmistakable.

An alpha’s scent.

He took a stuttering breath in. “Ollie — did you — did you spend your heat with someone?” 

Ollie stared back blankly. Something like resignation settling over his features. “I – I don’t know.” 

Max felt a stone lodge itself in his throat. His mind halts at the implications. He forced himself to swallow around it before speaking up again. “What um — what do you mean?” 

Ollie’s hands had fallen limp at his sides. His eyes were glassy now, unfocused.  “I just… I remember being hot. I remember. I think I tried to get out and I did. But before that there were hands. And then. Nothing. I don’t remember anything else. Or — or their face.”

His voice was small. Defeated.

Max’s body locked tight, fists curling at his sides. A familiar rage built in him, destructive and all encompassing. Who would do this? How could they do this!?

But then he saw Ollie flinch. Just barely but it was enough. His shoulders curled inward, breath hitching like he was bracing for something.

Max realised then what his own scent must have turned into. 

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, forcing himself to step back, to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Again. And again.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly as he reigned back his alpha instincts. Now was not the time for this.

Max eventually found his voice. “We should go to the Healers. They can check, make sure nothing happened and — ”

“No!” Ollie snapped, panic flaring in his eyes. “No one can know. I don’t want anyone to know!”

“Ollie — ”

“I didn’t even want you to know! But you were just here and I —” Ollie’s voice was gaining volume now. 

“I get it.” Max tried to placate. “I – I know. I just. If something happened then —”

“Nothing happened Max!” Ollie insisted, voice trembling. “I swear. He bit me but I stopped it. I fought him off.”

Max went still. “He bit you?”

“Not – ” Ollie shook his head quickly. “Not a real bite. Just a small one. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay.” Max said quickly, trying to soothe. “Okay. I believe you. But — do you think — can you show me?”

Ollie hesitated. His hands hovered at the hem of his tunic before he gave in and lifted it slightly. Just enough to reveal the mark. 

Faint indentations of top teeth imprinted into the skin just at the jut of his hip bone. Deep enough to break skin but still not enough to claim. It was like whoever tried to bite hadn’t quite managed to sink their whole teeth in before being pushed away. 

Max stared, the sight making something cold settle deep in his chest but there was an odd relief too. Relief that the mark wasn’t deep enough to bond. 

He hated himself for thinking that but Ollie didn’t deserve to be stuck in a forced bond. 

Max exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the roar of protective fury that returned like a tidal wave. 

The bite was red, slightly swollen but not bleeding. Fresh, though. Recent enough that Max could still see the bruising beginning to form. 

It would still leave behind a mark. A constant reminder.

It made his stomach turn.

“Okay.” He said again, softer this time. He forced calm into his voice, into his scent. “Okay, Ollie. You stopped them. That’s what matters.”

Ollie lowered his tunic again quickly, arms wrapping around himself as if trying to keep everything inside from spilling out. He looked small. Fragile. But there was defiance in his jaw, something hard and stubborn holding him upright.

Max didn’t reach for him this time, just stood back.

“You did good.” He murmured. “You got out. You fought. You found your way back.”

Max had no fucking clue what to do here. He wanted to urge Ollie to go to the Healers to make sure that nothing else had actually happened but he also didn’t want to overwhelm the other omega in his state. 

“Do you want to go back to your hut? I can accompany you.” He offered at last.

Ollie stiffened. “No! I can’t. My mum she will know. Can I — can I stay somewhere else for now?”

His first instinct had been to take Ollie straight to Charles.

Charles would’ve known exactly what to do — both as a Healer and as an omega who understood things Max couldn’t. But even as the thought formed, Max knew how it would play out. Ollie would panic. Shut down. Refuse. 

So Max didn’t push.

Instead, he took Ollie to his own private hut — not the one he shared with his family but the small, quiet space just on the outskirts. Secluded, peaceful. 

Somewhere no one would come knocking. Somewhere Ollie could feel safe without the weight of watchful eyes or invading questions.

It wasn’t much but it was something.

He settled Ollie there with a blanket, some tea and a promise Max was just outside if needed. 

And in the morning, when Ollie had eaten, slept and maybe washed off whatever clung to him — then Max could try again. Gently. Carefully. Try to talk some sense into him. 

But then the morning had come and with it — Ollie’s entire demeanour had changed. 

After handing off his duties to another pack member, Max had spent the rest of the night sitting on the porch, unmoving, his mind circling the same anxious thoughts, trying to figure out how to tackle the difficult conversation to be had.

He’d even considered tracing the path Ollie had taken and seeing if he could find some clues but relented when he realised that would mean leaving the other omega alone.

His eyes burned from fatigue, muscles aching and stiff from being locked in the same position for hours. And yet, when Ollie stepped out into the pale morning light, he looked… fine? Fresh, even.

“I borrowed your clothes, if that’s okay?” Ollie said casually, stretching his arms above his head like this was just another normal day.

Max blinked, swallowed around the dryness in his throat. “Uh — yeah. That’s fine.”

Ollie looked like a completely different person. 

Hair neatly combed, his face washed, dressed in one of Max’s soft long-sleeved tunics and a pair of old trousers rolled up at the ankles. He smiled like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t shown up covered in dirt and trembling the night before.

Max almost questioned if he’d dreamt the entire thing. 

He straightened from his slouch slowly, unsure. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Ollie said easily. “I got some sleep. Your bed’s really comfortable, by the way. The furs were very warm. Did you make them yourselves? 

Max blinked again. “Ollie — ”

But the omega was already turning away, stepping down the porch stairs and into the early morning sun like the world hadn’t shifted overnight.

“We should get breakfast.” Ollie continued cheerfully. “The kitchens had been serving warm bone broth every morning. I could really use some right now.”

Max stood on shaky legs, lips parted but no words coming out. It was like someone had taken the terrified omega from last night and replaced him with a polished mask.

And maybe that’s what this was — a mask. Max had worn plenty of them himself.

He stepped down after him. “Ollie.” He started gently. “We don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen.”

Ollie paused. His shoulders tensed, just slightly — but when he looked back over his shoulder, the smile was still there. “I’m not pretending, Max. I’m choosing. Choosing not to be a victim. Choosing to move on.”

Max’s heart sank. 

“I – um I get that. But maybe we should – or I can try looking for clues. Figure out who it was and then —”

“Then what?” Ollie asked sharply. “I have to stand in front of the whole council, in front of my dad and admit how stupid I was?”

“Why would anyone call you stupid? You are the victim here.” Max argued. 

Ollie scoffed, his expression closing off. “I had been stupid enough to be outside when my heat hit. I – I was reckless and I paid the price.”

“Ollie! That’s not – why would you think like that?” 

Ollie was speaking as if he’d deserved it which was far from the attitude the other omega should be having. 

The other omega waves him off. “It’s fine. Nothing happened.”

He kept insisting that — that nothing happened — and only now Max was starting to realise that this was more Ollie convincing himself than Max. 

Max sighed. “It doesn’t matter that nothing happened — we can get you justice. I can help you.”

"That’s not what I want!" Ollie shouted, his voice cracking. "I can’t, Max. I just — I want to forget. I want to move on."

There was a rawness in his voice that made Max hesitate. He could tell the other omega was still reeling, barely holding himself together.

"I’m sorry you had to find me.” Ollie mumbled, eyes cast to the floor. "I know this must feel like a burden."

"What? No!" Max said immediately, firmly. "Ollie, I’m glad you came to me." He paused, lowering his voice. "I’ll respect whatever you choose. I promise."

At the time, Max had meant respecting Ollie’s choice to speak out on his own terms what he hadn’t expected were these next words —

“In that case, can you pretend to court me?”

Max paused. “What?”

“My parents will — they will start arranging courtships for me now. I need them to just leave me alone.” Ollie had explained. “They approve of you and I – I can get some time to — process.”

Max stayed silent, unable to even think of a response to this absurd idea. His silence granted an opportunity for Ollie to continue.

“I know you’ll never love anyone else.” Ollie had said softly, almost apologetically. “So maybe we can do this?”

He had been so earnest when he asked Max to pretend to court him. His reasoning was painfully simple. “This way, your father gets off your back and I never have to show another alpha my tainted body.”

Max should have said no. He tried to. He told Ollie that just because he’d chosen a life of solitude, it didn’t mean Ollie had to settle too. 

He’d tried to reassure him. Tried to explain that someday, someone would come along who wouldn’t care about his marked skin or trauma or his broken pieces. Someone who would love Ollie completely, without condition or judgment. Someone who’d see not what had been done to him but the fierce, strong, clever omega he truly was.

But Ollie had just looked at him. So quiet, so resolved and said. “I don’t think I could ever let another alpha touch me that way, Max.”

And then he pleaded. Not with words, not entirely. But in the way his voice cracked and his eyes searched Max’s like he was clinging to the last thread of something that made him feel safe.

So Max agreed.

He told himself it was to protect Ollie. That if the person who had hurt him was from their own pack, then maybe, just maybe, seeing Ollie with him would keep them away. It would send a message. A warning. That Ollie wasn’t alone, not anymore.

Whether Ollie saw a mate in him before or just wanted a friend to fall back on, Max could never know. Silently, Max vowed to uncover the truth. To find the one who had done this and make them pay.

But every time he tried to bring it up — carefully, gently — Ollie would shut down. His gaze would darken, his shoulders would tense and he’d either fall into silence or steer the conversation somewhere else entirely. 

And Max had nothing to go by.

He’d kept his promise though, shown up at Ollie’s door that same evening with an abundance of courting gifts. A freshly hunted mountain lion, flowers, jewels and silks he’d hoped to present to Charles one day. 

Ollie had accepted them with a small smile and gratitude that went beyond what their families would ever know.

Then, once the sun dipped beneath the horizon, Max had returned to the border.

He scoured the exact spot he’d found Ollie in. Every bush, every shadow, every inch of earth around the area. He searched for any trace. An unfamiliar scent, a sign of struggle, a piece of cloth caught on a branch, anything that might lead him to the monster who had dared to touch Ollie.

But there was nothing.

No scent. No tracks. No evidence that anyone had ever been there at all.

Eventually, the rain came and then with winter, the snow followed and whatever faint traces might’ve once existed were washed away, buried beneath the weight of passing seasons. 

Max foolishly held hope that if he just waited long enough then Ollie might come to him on his own. Might feel safe enough to share the truth with others. 

Charles enters the main room once more, his expression stiff and lips pressed into a thin line. He beelines straight to where Max had half sprawled in the chair, lost in his own thoughts.

The other omega stops in front of him, arms crossed. 

“Did you know about this?”

Max straightens a little. He has no idea what Ollie had just confessed. Could it be the other omega finally confided in Charles? Told him the whole story?

He clears his throat. “Know about what?”

Charles' sharp eyes narrow at him, there’s something there. An accusation maybe. 

“That Ollie has been taking suppressants all this time.” Charles says, voice rising with every word, the fury just barely contained. “That he hasn’t had a heat since his presentation?” 

And — fuck .

“No.” Max immediately denies, heart kicking up again. “No I — I didn’t know. What do you mean all this time?”

Charles still has a furrow between his brows, like he doesn’t fully believe Max. “Ollie isn’t just overdosed on suppressants — he’s addicted to it Max.”

Max also stands up now, the weight of this new information settling over him like lead. 

He had never thought to question Ollie about his cycles, too afraid that it would dig up painful memories but Ollie would disappear once every few months and Max had just assumed, stupidly, that Ollie was dealing with his heats alone. Same as any unmated omega would. 

He just hadn’t realised – Ollie was just not dealing with his heats at all. 

“He never told me –” Max begins, recalling all those times Ollie had told him he’d be away for a few days. “Will he be okay? How could this happen?” He asks shakily, the guilt settling over him more and more with every passing second. 

“You really didn’t know about this?” Charles asks again, instead of answering his question.

“Of course not. I may not be a Healer but I at least know how dangerous suppressants can be.” 

Charles gets a look then — like each time Max is speaking, it's rewiring everything Charles thought he’d known. 

Max gets it. They’ve been courting for years and yet Max was none the wiser about such crucial information about his supposed future mate. 

Charles sighs, his eyes dimming. “It was a stress heat so he must have panicked and took too many but Max he’s been ruining his body for so long — I don’t even know where to start with his treatment.”

The other omega looks small, like a weight is also settling on his shoulders. Max hasn’t witnessed Charles like this when it came to a patient and it makes him all the more nervous.

“Will he be okay?” He asks, afraid. 

Charles sighs. “He will be but the only way is to take him off the suppressants and go through an actual heat. But —” He looks at Max then, his green eyes pointed. “He’s refusing this. Why would he refuse to have a heat, Max? Why was he on suppressants?”

Max deflates, the energy fully sucked out of him. This facade that they’d been building was cracking. He doesn’t see another way out of this unless they come out and confess everything. While it was never his right to tell, this is a matter of Ollie’s health and wellbeing now. 

And still — still he knows it's not his decision to make. Once the truth comes out, then everyone’s perception of Ollie, of their relationship will change. 

He licks his dried lips, buying himself time on how to respond. Eventually he settles on the safest option. “Can I speak with Ollie?”

Charles narrows his eyes, no doubt the way Max avoids answering his question hasn’t gone unnoticed by the omega. He relents though. “Geri and Christian are there with him but afterwards I’ll see if Ollie wants to.”

God, Max hopes Ollie won’t turn him away. He really needs to speak with the other omega. 

He watches Charles disappear around the corner and collapses into a chair. Max doesn’t get a moment to breathe before Lando is settling down next to him. Somehow in all this chaos he hasn’t clocked that the other omega is still here. 

He doesn’t say anything for a long time but just – stares. 

Stares in a way that makes his skin prickle, like he is being judged. Eventually Max has enough of it. “What?”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “You and Ollie aren’t courting are you?”

Max falters but tries to let his expression or his scent give away too much. “What?”

“It’s weird. Your reaction is —” Lando waves his hands around but still settles to say. “— weird. There is something just weird about this situation. ”

What the hell? Max is about to argue back, because was Lando seriously psychoanalysing him right now? But Lando continues before he can say anything.

“I’m not judging you. You obviously care for Ollie but this is not a reaction a mate would have.” He says it so simply. Like the lie Max and Ollie had been carefully constructing for years was nothing. 

“Lando I honestly don’t give a fuck what —”

“It’s your scent!” Lando gets a wild look in his eyes like he’s figured it out. “Even without a mating bite, your scents should’ve intermingled at least a little bit. Just enough that whenever your mate is in distress it bleeds through your own — and right now there is nothing in yours. Zero trace of it!”

Max freezes, taken aback by how quickly Lando is seeing through him. He hadn’t even considered this possibility, how could they have planned in advance for this? 

His silence is answer enough as Lando’s eyes narrow into a glare. “Are you fucking kidding me right now!?” He whisper shouts. “You had left Charles thinking that all this time —” He pauses to take a deep breath, regulating his emotions. “This isn’t about that right now. But Max, you better have an answer for me. I’m leaving, tell Charles I will be outside if he needs anything.” He huffs and makes a dramatic exit. 

Max rakes a shaky hand through his hair. Fuck .

Well it wasn’t like Max had thought this act would last forever. When his father started pushing for the mating ceremony, Max knew the end was closer than either had anticipated. 

Ollie had been telling him to wait until he was Head Alpha to break off the courtship. That way pack members couldn’t question him too much but quietly Max had been hoping he could get Ollie to confess in the meantime and now —

Now they were left with this. 

There would be many more questions raised. This was just the beginning.

Eventually, Christian and Geri emerge from the room, their faces carved with worry, shoulders bowed beneath the fear of watching their only son in pain. Charles was just behind, he didn't say much, just nodded in the direction of the room. Silent invitation for Max to follow.

Max jumps up and in the next second he’s in Ollie’s room, surrounded by burnt vanilla and the vision of Ollie crumpled on the mattress looking at him, slightly less pale than a few hours ago.

“Hi.” He greets awkwardly, hovering at the door, unsure of what to do with himself. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m better.” Ollie gives him a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s not fine at all.

He wishes he could wait for this conversation to happen but time is off the essence right now. For Ollie’s wellbeing and not to mention that the moment he steps out Christian will have questions, Geri will be disappointed in him, Lando is already angry at him and Charles . God he doesn’t even know what Charles will think of him.

“Do you, um — ” Max hesitates, licking his lips, trying to gather the right words. “Can we talk?”

Ollie nods without missing a beat, which gives Max a flicker of relief. But Charles is still standing nearby, his eyes moving between them, alert and watchful.

“Alone.” Max adds, more pointedly this time.

“Oh.” Charles says, blinking as he realises. “I can um —”

But before he can move, Ollie cuts in. “He can stay.”

Max turns to Ollie. “I need to talk about something… personal.” He says carefully, hoping Ollie will catch what he means without him having to spell it out.

“It’s okay. I – I trust him.” Ollie replies, voice steady despite the weariness in his eyes. “He should know.”

“Know what? What’s going on?” Charles looks confused, still looking between the two of them.

Max studies Ollie’s face for any sign of hesitation but all he sees is exhaustion — the kind that settles deep, like it’s been there for years. A quiet surrender.

Slowly, Max moves to sit at the edge of the bed, watching Ollie carefully in case he changes his mind. But when the omega remains still, Max settles beside him and motions for Charles to sit too.

“You want to tell him?” Max prompts, reaching out to take Ollie’s hand in his — a wordless reassurance. “I’ll be right here.”

Ollie takes a stuttering breath. 

“A few years ago, after my presentation heat — or, well… during it — I was outside. I don’t even remember why. Just that I was alone and the heat hit so fast. Before I could get back to my hut… someone found me. An alpha.”

Charles lets out a quiet gasp, his hand flying to his mouth as the implications sink in. Max doesn’t say anything — just tightens his grip on Ollie’s hand in silent support.

“They —” Ollie swallows hard. “I don’t remember everything. It’s all a blur. But I got away. There’s… there’s a mark. On my hip. Just teeth. Not deep. But it’s there. And then Max found me. Got me out.”

He pauses for a second.

“Since then, I’ve just felt… disgusted. With myself. With everyone.” Ollie’s voice hitches. “So I asked Max to pretend. Just so no one would ask questions. So I’d be left alone. I couldn’t bear the idea of another heat — that kind of vulnerability again — I couldn’t, Charles.”

He chokes on the last words, grief rising in him like a wave. Before Max can move, Charles is already reaching forward, gathering Ollie into a tight embrace.

The horror on Charles’ face is unmistakable, tears streaming down his cheeks as he holds the trembling omega.

“You don’t have to explain any more.” Charles whispers, though his voice cracks with emotion. “Ollie, it’s okay. I understand. We’ll figure it out — I promise. We’ll do something.”

Maybe it’s the presence of another omega or just the simple fact that someone else finally knows —  but something gives way inside Ollie. The tight composure he’d kept glued to himself for years crumbles all at once and he breaks.

The tears start low, shuddering in his chest and then they take over. Violent, heart wrenching sobs that rack his entire frame as he clings to Charles like a lifeline.

Even the night Max had found him — lost, freezing, barefoot — Ollie hadn’t cried like this. His tears had already dried by then. What remained was some kind of acceptance, resignation. But now — Ollie lets himself feel.

Max sits frozen, watching the unraveling of an omega who had held it all inside for far too long. His heart aches with helplessness and guilt. And rage. 

Charles doesn’t speak — he just holds Ollie tighter, rocking him gently, whispering soft reassurances that Max can’t make out. 

Max’s fingers curl into fists against his thighs, jaw clenched. He wants to do something — anything — but all he can do is sit there and watch as the boy he tried to protect finally falls apart.

And somehow, that feels like the bravest thing Ollie has ever done.

His sobs slowly taper off into trembling sniffles. He pulls back from Charles, wiping at his face with shaking hands, trying to breathe through the remnants of his breakdown.

“I’ve been so careful.” Ollie whispers. “I never overdo it with the suppressants. I’ve kept track — I always keep track. But I heard about Carl —” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, like the thoughts are coming too fast for his mouth to keep up. “I felt the pre-heat coming and I panicked. ”

Charles gently tucks a strand of damp hair behind his ear. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. We’ll deal with it. I promise.”

But Ollie flinches like the words hurt.

“I ruined everything!” He bursts out, the hoarseness of his throat making each word sound more broken than the last. “Now everyone’s going to know — and I can’t tell them. Not when —”

He swallows hard, biting off the rest.

“Not when what?” Max leans in slightly.

Ollie doesn’t answer right away. But there’s a shift in his expression like he’d given away too much. 

What was saying before, he swears he heard something about Carl —

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck!

It takes less than a second for everything to connect for him.

His stomach lurches violently. He clamps down on a scream clawing its way up his throat.

Still he forces himself to stay calm and careful. Because if he’s right, then they’re standing on the edge of a cliff. And Ollie’s already been pushed once.

“Ollie.” He begins slowly. “Did — that night, was it Carlos?”

The silence that follows is answer enough. Ollie avoids his eyes. There is a  slight shake in his hand, the way his fingers grip the blanket around him, the hollow in his eyes — it says everything.

Charles lets out a sharp breath, like the air’s been punched from his lungs. He goes still, the blood draining from his face as he too makes the connection.

He’d been so stupid! It all makes sense now. Like Max had all the right pieces in his hand all this fucking time and yet he hadn’t arranged them because he didn’t know what the puzzle was — and now? Now he did and it does nothing but make him want to tear his skin off.

“You heard about what happened to Carlos at the council meeting didn’t you?” 

All he gets is a small nod in return. He shucks in a harsh breath and continues — because there was so much more.

“Last year — you told me to help Charles.” Charles makes a noise at this but Max continues on. “You said an alpha who wasn’t good is trying to court him and I should intervene. Was that Carlos?”

Another small nod.

“And you didn’t want to tell anyone — especially the council — because of Carlos' father?” 

Ollie sighs and gives another reluctant nod. 

Max lets that settle between them for a moment. This new information was making his blood boil – he wanted to sink his teeth and tear the flesh off of that alpha. After Isa, Rebecca, now Ollie?

“Max –” Charles softly says. “Your scent.”

It’s only then Max realises his scent was wild. He also clenched his fists so tight, his hands were shaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me Ollie? I could’ve —”

“You brought proper evidence against him and what happened to Carlos? Nothing.” Ollie spits. “I would’ve made a joke of myself in front of everyone. I didn’t have proof Max. Just a memory from a heat induced state and half a bite? No one will believe an omega! I hate this — hate my designation!"

Max had to begrudgingly agree that Ollie did have a point. The council did anything and everything to protect their own and if that meant being cruel to others — well it never stopped them before.

He is going to the next Head Alpha and he couldn’t fucking do anything. 

So useless. Just like his father had always warned. He needed the right connections, right power or else — or else this happens. Everyone around him suffers because he was so fucking useless.

Even if he became the Head Alpha, he still wouldn’t have any power. Not with all the other council members and elders always there. Watchful and dictating his every move. Like he was just a pawn that they could use to their bidding.

Max couldn’t even look Charles or Ollie in the eyes anymore. 

Carlos would be back eventually and Ollie — Ollie had to bear it. Look at him everyday. 

He’d promised Charles that he would make sure Carlos never returns. Truthfully he didn’t have a plan in mind — but now more than ever he needs that to be a reality.

Christian would know where Carlos was exiled too. Maybe he could go there and kill —

“Ollie.” Charles speaks up, his voice gentle, his scent warm, a comfort that Max couldn’t offer. “We can deal with Carlos later but first, you need to get off of suppressants. Have a proper heat.”

Ollie immediately closes off, shaking his head. But Charles doesn’t relent, just continues in his soft tone. “What if you spend your heat at my hut hm? I will be just outside your door — make sure no one gets in.”

Max fury renews when he realises that Ollie had been suppressing his heats in fear of Carlos and —

“Max!” Charles hisses when Ollie lets out a small whimper. “If you can’t get your scent under control, you need to leave.”

“Sorry.” He apologises quickly and takes deep breaths a few times. 

“Ollie if you don’t start a regular cycle, you will continue to have seizures and it will get worse. I promise there are other ways to deal with your heats. You just have to go through one.” 

Ollie still looks hesitant, biting his lips and looking away.

Charles moves then, takes both of Ollie’s hands into his own. 

“Did you know heats are not only for procreating?” Charles says, seemingly out of nowhere but at least it grabs Ollie’s attention as the omega looks curiously at Charles once more. “You don’t even need an alpha.” Charles continues. “Actually if anything it’s better without an alpha.” 

“What — what do you mean?”

Charles smiles, gentle and soft. Max watches, transfixed. Amazed. 

“The elders got it all wrong. As they do with most things omega related. Without a mate, without an alpha that your bond is pulling you towards, heats can be — they’re a way for you to explore your own body. Get to know it intimately.” Charles starts. “You can understand your body and find out what you like and dislike — they can be nice .” 

“Nice?” Ollie repeats, sceptical. 

“Our biology can work with us. We just need to guide it.” Charles explains. “It’s not shameful to be an omega. Never has been. We carry life. We feel deeply and that’s not a flaw — it’s a gift. We connect, we understand, we empathise . Without us, the world wouldn’t just be emptier. It wouldn’t exist at all.”

Max just watches in quiet awe at how Charles is doing this, shifting Ollie’s belief one piece at a time. 

“You might not see it right away but you have support all around you. You can fight. Whether that fight is with your mind so you can have a heat or with the council so they will listen, you have that strength in you. And if you fail, then there’s so many here to catch you.” 

Ollie shakes his head. “I’m not strong like you Charles. I — I’ve been hiding and lying to everyone. Just thinking if I ignore it, it will go away.” He mumbles, eyes downcast.

“No.” Charles says, voice firm. “Someone who is not strong would not do what you did. You asked Max to keep Carlos away from me. Even though you were hurting, you looked out for me. You asked to learn herbology so you can help yourselves, didn’t you?” Ollie gives a small nod. “See, you clearly didn’t give up on yourselves, so why should you now?” 

Ollie glances up then, eyes glassy, uncertain — but listening.

A flicker of something sparks in Max’s chest, fragile and unfamiliar. Hope. Maybe, finally, Ollie was letting a little light in.

“You don’t have to decide anything now. Why don’t you sleep and then we can talk again in the morning?” Charles offers. “I can give you some herbs to help with sleep.”

“That would be good.” Ollie says, voice small but no longer heavy. He even smiles a little. “Thanks Charles. And you too Max.” 

“Of course.” Max replies, knowing he hadn’t anything to help but glad to have at least Charles here who knew what he was doing.

“Get some rest. I’ll leave the herbs with you mother.” Charles says and helps tuck Ollie back into his bed and rearranges his blankets for him. “Rest now.” 

They take about two steps out into the main room when Christian comes bounding over. He’s scowling and hurtling words at them before they’ve even crossed the threshold. “You gave him those suppressants, didn't you? What a pathetic excuse of a Healer —”

Charles tenses beside him but hardens in the next second. “You are a pathetic excuse of a father if that is your first question for me!” He cuts him off.

Max notices how Christian freezes and falters, clearly not expecting the omega to talk back.

“You should ask me how Ollie is and whether he will be okay. You should then ask yourself why your son was on suppressants in the first place.” Charles spits. “But to answer your stupid question, I did not give Ollie anything. We need to find his source immediately so I can at least check if the suppressants he’s been taking for years are even properly made.”

Geri gasps then. “Charles – what do you mean years?”

Charles sighs, the anger deflating from him just a little. “You should speak with your son Geri —” Then he pauses and continues. “Alone.” He says pointedly. “But let him rest tonight. He will need it. I will leave some herbal tea blend. It will help him sleep.” He then turns to Christian. “And you should be more aware of who you are pledging loyalty to.”

Max still stands frozen, watching on. A little mesmerised. 

Charles rummages through his little back and procures a small sachet. “Just two teaspoons for one cup.” He instructs. “I will come check on him first thing tomorrow.”

Just like that he turns on his heel and walks out the door.

Christian finally finds his voice, glaring at Max. “What the fuck does he mean?”

Max sighs too. Christian wasn’t his favourite, really none of the council members were. But Max knows how much he loves and cares for his son. The truth would no doubt devastate him but it was also Ollie who needed to break it to his parents, not him.

“Just speak with Ollie.” Max says and follows behind Charles.

He finds Charles speaking with Lando in hushed whispers which dim when they notice Max.

“Can I walk you both back to your hut?” He offers. 

It’s more for himself than the other two omegas. 

Max doesn’t want to be alone right now. Not after knowing what Ollie was hiding and dealing with. He desperately wishes he could just stay in Charles’ presence. 

Charles nods, Lando glares. Max ignores the latter and stays a few feet back and lets the omegas walk in front of him. 

It’s quiet for the most part. 

The night itself, as if it knew the events that had transpired, is quiet too. There’s no wind rustling the trees, no cicadas singing their songs and no echoes of other pack members around them. 

Max feels like he’s experienced one of the worst nights of his life — once again . The first when he learned the truth about Daniel, the second when Charles’ grandmother had come pleading to him, the third when he found Ollie at the border and now — this.

He doesn’t know how many he has in him before he completely breaks. 

No matter how much he tries to help, he keeps doing the opposite. Max feels so much weight on his shoulders and every passing day, it feels like his load gets heavier and heavier. 

They eventually reach Charles’ small hut, Max lingers just beyond the porch watching Lando and Charles walk up the few steps, already lamenting how quickly the walk had gone. 

Lando unlocks the front door and steps inside, Max isn’t really expecting an invitation anyway but just as he’s about to leave Charles whirls around. “You are so stupid Max!” He says with no preamble.

Max pauses from where he was about to turn around and walk off. He kinda deserves this but he’s just not sure which specific action warranted this reaction from the other omega.

“I —”

“No.” Charles cuts him off, stepping down the stairs once more so he is standing level with Max. “Ollie and you. Both are so stupid. Ollie he —” Charles’ voice cracks then, his emotions barely held together spilling out in the form of tears. “H–he shouldn’t have gone through that. Ollie must’ve been so scared and —”

Max doesn’t wait then, pulls Charles firmly into his arms. 

Charles goes easily and fits so perfectly into his arms. Like he belongs there. Like he always did.

It was frankly a lot that’s just been unloaded on the both of them and while he was endlessly thankful for Ollie for helping keep Carlos away from Charles, the other omega shouldn’t have had to carry this burden all alone. Not when Max had been right there. 

But maybe it was all his fault. Maybe Ollie didn’t feel like he could come to him for this.

“I am such an idiot. I was there — all this time and I didn’t even know – fuck.” 

Charles pulls back just enough to look him in the eyes. “It’s not your fault and I didn’t mean — I didn’t call you stupid for that .” He says sincerely. 

Max doesn’t deserve it.

He scoffs a bit self-deprecatingly. “Right.”

Charles tilts his chin up. “Ollie felt safe with you Max. That night, I just can’t imagine how it must’ve been for him and yet — he chose to come to you. Allowed you to take care of him. It shows me what I’ve always known — you are a good alpha.” 

Max doesn’t reply, doesn’t even think he can. He just buries his face in Charles’ neck and inhales deeply to stop himself from crying. 

Charles’ cherry scent is such a painful reminder of all that was.  

Summertime running in the meadows, just him and Charles, nothing else, no care in the world. Back then when he felt like the world was his to conquer, where Charles could be his omega. 

Back when he could come home and his Ma was prepping dinner and Daniel would proudly boast about his latest hunt while Vic muttered something or other about how his older brothers are too annoying. 

Back when he could still go to Charles’ home afterwards as the night fell and Charles’ grandmother would ruffle his hair lightly and give him a small sweet treat. He would ask if Charles was allowed to play with him some more even though they’d just been together and she would agree easily because it was Max – and when it came to Charles, he would always be careful and protect her only grandson. 

Max hadn’t realised that sometimes protecting him meant he needed to stay away.

He hadn’t held her request against her. He knew why she’d asked that of him. Understood that at the end of the day, she’d only ever wanted Charles to be safe. 

He also only ever wanted that too. 

Charles is running a gentle hand up and down his back. The other omega hadn’t even fully yelled at him for lying all this time about his courtship. 

Maybe it is normal now. Maybe Charles just didn’t have any expectations from him. 

And yet —

“Are you mad at me? For lying to you?” He asks a bit pathetically, his voice half smothered into Charles’ neck. 

Charles squirms a bit, the warm air from Max’s breath landing right against his scent gland. How much he wishes he could just sink his teeth in. Claim him right here and now. Claim this strong, beautiful, wonderful omega for himself.

“I’m not.” Charles replies finally, his voice quiet in the night air. “Not about this anyway. Though – is that why you kept coming back to the medical hut? Because Ollie had asked?”

Max pulls back to look into the omega’s eyes. “Ollie only ever asked to check on you once. He didn’t exactly — tell me to keep visiting. I uh, I did that on my own”

“And if Ollie had never asked for it, then what? We would be strangers by now?”

“Maybe —” Max trails off, then thinks he can offer this much without baring his whole heart. “Or maybe I was just looking for a reason to come back to you.”

He catches the way Charles’ green eyes widen, the faint pink blooming across his cheeks — even the slight shift in his scent, sweeter now, warmer. Max becomes acutely aware of how little space exists between them. How easily he could lean in, close the distance, let the moment unravel —

Instead, he clears his throat and leans back, putting space where his instincts beg him not to.

This is a line he couldn’t cross. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He thinks he’s imagining it but there’s something in Charles’ face — a flicker of disappointment that mirrors the ache settling in Max’s chest.

“You don’t need a reason to visit a friend.” Charles says quietly.

“Because that’s what all we are? Friends?” Max asks, unable to help himself. 

Charles holds his gaze for a beat too long. “Yes, because that is all you ever let us be.”

Chapter Text

Charles remembered the last time he was bundling some extra herbs for the neighbouring pack and how his life had been completely different then. Just a mere week ago. 

The concept of time seemed endless — he was only fifteen after all. He had his whole life ahead of him. 

And yet —

This memory clung to him with a sharp, bittersweet clarity, as it kept replaying in his mind.

Daniel, Max and him, mindless in a meadow running errands for his grandmother. Guileless. Free.

Daniel promised him that he would speak to Max while Max, none the wiser, was barking out orders. Charles, who felt a tentative but hopeful spark in his chest that maybe Max would reciprocate. 

But that was a week ago and now — 

Charles was back in the medical hut, caught in the rhythm of daily tasks as if nothing had changed. 

As if Daniel hadn’t been branded a traitor and exiled with no warning, no goodbye. As if Max hadn’t gone into an early presentation from the stress of it all.  As if everything hadn’t been turned upside down.

Charles missed Max. Ached with it, really. He wanted to see how the other was doing, comfort him and maybe get some comfort back. 

But he’d been told to stay away, which he’d agreed to assuming Max was mid-rut and wouldn’t want to see anyone.

But ruts lasted three days, four at most.

Max had been gone for eight. 

This morning, his grandmother had been summoned by the Head Omega to check on Max, to ensure his presentation had gone smoothly. Which meant Max was allowed visitors and yet when Charles perked up and offered to join his grandmother, she had refused. 

So here he was. Going through the motions.

He continued to monotonously do his job, moving on autopilot, reaching for the herbs he’d already dried the week before. His fingers worked mechanically, sorting the sprigs of dried chamomile, lavender and crushed thyme into neat piles.

He wrapped everything tightly in burlap and fastened the tops. 

His hands moved from one bundle to the next, sorting, checking and tying.

Charles tried to stay present. This was an important task, these herbs could help save lives and if stored incorrectly or mistreated they were as good as useless.

When they had an excess of herbs, his grandmother always insisted they bundle them up for packs with fewer resources. That was just who she was — generous to a fault, always thinking of others.

It was one of the many things Charles loved most about her.

So Charles ties the knots extra careful and extra tight, labelling each one neatly.

He’d just finished labelling the last of the package when the curtains fluttered and his grandmother walked through.

Charles straightened instantly, already moving toward her. The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it — urgent, hopeful.

“How is he? Is Max well? Can I see him?”

His grandmother doesn’t answer right away.

She shrugged off her heavy shawl, the snow still clinging to the wool in patches and took her time hanging it by the door. Her silence was somehow careful — calculated. 

Charles watches her with barely contained impatience, his hands twitching at his sides. “Mamie?” 

She finally turned to face him, expression unreadable. “Max is recovering.” She said gently. “The worst of the fever has broken and his body is adjusting to the shift in hormones.”

Charles exhales a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “So he’s alright?”

“He will be.” She replied, her voice calm “His rut hit harder than most.”

Charles bit his lip. “Can I see him now?”

Mamie looked at him long and hard. “Charlie … I’m not sure that’s wise.” She finally said.

His heart stutters. “Why not?”

“Max has asked for solitude.” She replied, eyes softening with sympathy. “He’s still not seeing anyone.”

The words land like a blow to the chest. Charles steps back in disappointment. “Oh — but… not even me?” 

“Chéri.” His grandmother reached out, touching his cheek briefly, “Don’t take it personally. He needs time to adjust now. He will be the Head Alpha, he will lead this pack. That’s not a small thing and it happened overnight. Of course he’s overwhelmed.”

Charles swallowed hard. He understood. 

He hadn’t really stopped to think about it like that but he could see it now. The sudden shift, the pressure, the expectations.

And still —  “Then why won’t he see me?” He asked, voice breaking at the edges. “We share everything.”

His grandmother sighed, there was something else there but Charles hadn’t noticed, he’d been too caught up missing his best friend to see it. 

“Perhaps —” She said carefully. “— it’s best if you spend some time apart.”

Charles shook his head before she could even finish. “Non!” The word came out fierce and raw.

How was he supposed to do that? He woke up thinking of Max, planned his day around when he’d see him next and what they’d get up to that day. At night, he’d lie in bed replaying every moment they’d shared.

To ask him to cut Max out of his world — it was like asking him to forget how to breathe.

His grandmother’s voice stayed calm, unwavering despite his outburst.

“Charlie…” She began softly. “Max will always be your friend. But he’s an alpha now. You need to let him grow into that role. He doesn’t have time to play like you two used to.”

Somehow, someway this moment felt significant to him — like Max would slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold tight enough. 

“But – maybe I can help him?” He offered, desperately. “I could – I won’t ask him to play or go the river with me but maybe I can still be around him?”

His grandmother looked so sad then, like she began mourning something Charles couldn’t even understand. 

“It was the first snow today. Did you see, Charlie?” She said instead. “Shall I make you some tomato soup?”

It was a diversion and Charles took it, knowing he’d still speak with Max somehow. That there was no way his best friend wouldn’t want Charles near him.

These days Charles feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It’s been two weeks since they found Ollie overdosed, since the carefully buried truth was dragged into the open. Two weeks since everything in his world tilted on its axis once more.

In that time, Charles has only managed to coax the other omega through a single heat. 

As promised Ollie had taken refuge in Charles’ hut. 

To prepare, Charles made sure to thoroughly wash and rid his sheets of any lingering scents. He laid out the softest of his furs so the other omega could nest. 

He took camp just outside, offering water and food whenever he could. He even guided the other omega through self-pleasure and how to use some of the toys. 

But for the most part, Ollie wanted to be left alone. 

Any presence, be it a fellow omega or a Healer, had left Ollie distressed and frightened so during the height of his heat, Charles kept to the other side and let out calming pheromones to reassure him.  

But other than coaxing Ollie through the heat and gently easing him off of suppressants, there was no other progress made.

He tries not to see it as a failure — but it feels like one.

They hadn’t found the source of the suppressants with Ollie only confessing that he’d got them from other packs illegally. Enough to last a couple of months and that he’s never gone back to the same pack twice. 

The other omega would often go on interpack trips with his father and thus obtaining suppressants was easy. 

But the important part was they would now go on a recovery plan together and Ollie has promised to tell Charles whenever he feels the urge to get back on suppressants. 

It was a small victory. 

Charles had also gently, patiently encouraged Ollie to speak up — to tell the truth about what he had gone through. But no matter how carefully he’s been, Ollie wouldn’t budge. Wouldn’t look him in the eye when the topic came up. Wouldn’t say the name.

The most the other omega had managed was telling his parents.

And while that alone had taken immense courage, it seemed that’s where Ollie’s courage ended.

The worst part?

Christian and Geri — Ollie’s own parents — had told him he’d done the right thing by not involving the council. Had praised his restraint. Had called it wise. Had called it mature .

Charles couldn’t fathom it. His blood had boiled.

He couldn't begin to wrap his mind around how people who were supposed to protect and cherish their own pup could hear something that horrifying — and still choose silence. Still choose reputation over justice.

It made his stomach twist. Made his jaw ache from how tightly he’d been clenching it when Ollie had repeated their words to him.

“They said… it would cause too much trouble.”

Charles had wanted to scream.

Because trouble was the bare minimum . Because silence was how monsters survived. How they stayed in packs, walked freely, got away with it and just waited for their next victim. 

And Ollie had done everything he could. He’d survived. He’d spoken. And the people who were supposed to fight for him… just didn’t.

When he tried to privately have a conversation with Christian and Geri, all the older alpha said was — “Keep out of it. I know how to handle it.”

And if by handling it meant being complacent and still attending council meetings — then Charles didn’t know what else he could do.

Even Max seemed silent on this matter and reassured him that Christian would do what’s best for his son which — Charles definitely had a hard time believing. But Max had told him to be patient and he was — trying. 

“Is this… it?” Ollie asks, voice uncertain as he peers into the pot, a wooden spoon loosely held in one hand.

Charles glances over from where he’s grinding dried bark into powder and tries very hard not to scrunch his nose at the green concoction. It bubbles sluggishly, a bit too thick and definitely the wrong colour.

“Um — did you boil the tulasi before adding it in?” Charles asks delicately, already knowing the answer.

Ollie blinks at him, then glances back at the pot with the air of someone realising a crucial step may have been tragically overlooked. “I… added it after the honey.” He mumbles.

Charles bites back a sigh.

Ollie, bless him, has the motivation. He was enthusiastic, eager to help, always asking questions and scribbling messy notes in his little notebook. But he lacked the natural instinct, the care for detail — the steady hands and practiced skills that being a Healer demanded.

Still.

He was trying.

And that counted for something.

Charles steps closer, peering into the pot and gently taking the spoon from Ollie’s hand.

“Alright.” He says softly, giving the syrup a careful stir. “The good news is… you didn’t burn it.”

Ollie perks up slightly, eyes wide. “Then it’s okay?”

Charles hums. “It’s a start.” He lowers the flame a bit and gestures for Ollie to grab the small strainer on the shelf. “It might not be a cough syrup but I’m sure we can still use it for something else.”

Ollie scrambles to grab the strainer and returns, cheeks flushing with annoyance “I can’t even make a simple syrup – how stupid.” He grumbles to himself.

“Hey none of that now.” Charles gently chastises. “I grew up around here twenty years, you cannot replicate that in a week. You are doing really well.”

“Yeah?” Ollie asks, uncertain.

Charles nods. “Of course – now let's see what I can do with this.”

Just as he’s rolling his sleeves and wracking his brain for what he can potentially do, another voice comes from the entrance. 

“Charles!” Franco’s excited voice carries over. “I bought some rabbits!” 

Charles sighs. This — has become a bit of a regular thing with the other alpha. He didn’t really think allowing Franco to bring back something extra from his hunts meant getting something every single day.  

The other day Lando had even made a joking comment on how Franco must be trying to court him. Which was just — unacceptable. 

But there is no other plausible explanation for this. 

Charles, albeit reluctantly, had been getting his quota from the kitchens now. And while the rumours will never really die down, the new talk of their pack had been the lack of Carlos’ presence. 

He had appreciated the baby alphas looking out for him before, he didn’t need Franco’s help anymore. 

“Franco.” He greets, then purses his lips. “I still haven’t finished what you brought me yesterday, or the day before and the —”

“Ah. That’s okay. This is fresh, have this first. I left them at your hut with some flowers. Crazy I found some still in bloom what with snow about to fall and all but —” Franco continues ranting with a beaming smile.

And — Franco keeps talking but Charles pauses, flowers?!

This baby alpha was really shooting his shot wasn’t he? Charles feels a bit stupid and he tries to think of a way to gently let this alpha down.

“Franco —” He cuts the alpha off. “This is all great but —”

“I knew you’d find it great!” Franco beams. “Listen, I have to get back to the border but no need to thank me. It was a pleasure.” He throws over his shoulder and just like that the alpha hurries out.

Charles blinks. Then blinks again. 

Ollie whistles. “That is some insistent alpha if I’ve seen one. He’s trying really hard to court you isn’t he?”

And —-

“What!?” Charles says, his voice more a squeak than the dignified response he was going for.

Ollie just laughs and strains the green concoction into a jar. “What what?”

Charles waves his hands around. “Just — it’s not what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah and what does it look like?” Ollie crosses his arms across his chest, looking way too observant for an omega who didn’t even know how to use a knife until Charles had shown him. 

Now Charles wasn’t one for stereotypes and he wasn’t saying Ollie needed to know how to cook and prepare food because of his designation but it was a basic survival skill that everyone should know.

“Franco isn’t courting me. He hasn’t even asked!”

Ollie snorts. “That’s so traditional of you Charles. Who even asks anymore?”

“Ollie, you are literally five years younger than me.” Charles points out.

“Yep!” The other omega says, popping the ‘p.’ “A whole half a decade younger and the gap clearly shows.”

“Give me that!” Charles yanks the jar out of Ollie’s grasp, a bit too harsh and shoots a glare at Ollie just to be sure the other omega knows how of Charles’ displeasure. “I don’t care if you call me traditional but some traditions are meant to be followed and that —” He points at the door Franco walked out of. “ — Is not it.”

Ollie shrugs. “Tell Max. He’ll take care of it.”

Charles freezes. “What?”

“If you are too nice to tell Franco to back off then just tell Max. Actually I’m sure you don’t even need to ask, Max will do it all on his own.”

Charles doesn’t really know how to reply to that. Does it point out the obvious that in the eyes of their pack, Ollie and Max are still technically courting? Or does he point out that when Charles laid his heart out to the alpha the other week, quite literally told him that the only thing holding them back from becoming more was the alpha himself, all Max had done was wish him good night and left?

The conflict must show on his face because Ollie’s smile is wiped off for a more serious expression. 

“I uh – I actually want to apologise.”

Charles lifts his head up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“I never meant to get in between you and Max — it just happened . I figured eventually we’d call it off and then — anyway. I’m still sorry.”

“Ollie.” Charles sighs. “You don’t need to apologise about this. There is nothing to apologise for.”

“I’m gonna tell everyone.” Ollie speaks up, a determined look in his eyes. “I will tell everyone that Max and I stopped courting. Although it might be a bit too late, I can make it seem like I called it off so it won’t be too bad on Max’s reputation and I can also —”

“Ollie stop.” Charles cuts in sternly. “You don’t have to do any of that. And even if you did, Max won’t do it. He won’t court me.” His voice tapers off in the end, something pathetic and resigned.

There is nothing for Ollie to feel guilty or apologetic over. Even if the whole incident hadn’t happened with Ollie and Max was not tied down in a fake courtship, Charles knows for sure that the alpha would not have courted him. That much has been made clear. 

Ollie genuinely looks confused. Which — Charles doesn’t actually know how to truly feel about. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Don’t know. Ask Max.” Charles scoops the remains of the syrup in the jar, giving his hands something to do. “Now, I think we can use this for another medicine I’ve been working on for stomach aches.”

Ollie doesn't reply but there’s something in his gaze — something like sympathy. Charles hates it. 

The next morning, Charles wakes to silence. The kind of soft, weighted silence that only comes with a heavy snowfall. 

And a quick peer out his window confirms just that. 

Outside, everything is blanketed in white. 

It was the first snow of the year.

The sight makes something bittersweet stir deep in his chest.

He remembers being a pup, barely able to contain his excitement whenever snowflakes began to fall. He’d press his little nose against the frosted glass, breath fogging the window, watching as the world turned into a wonderland. 

Charles would be buzzing, waiting until Max landed on his doorstep so he could explore the wonders with his best friend. When the knock eventually came and he ran to throw himself into the drifts, his grandmother would catch him, tutting as she bundled him up in layers of thick furs and knitted scarves. 

Then, hours later, when his hands were frozen and his cheeks were bright red, he’d crawl into his grandmother’s lap by the fire with a bowl of tomato soup warming his fingers. 

His grandmother would hum and laugh softly as he ranted her ears off about all the adventures he’d gone on that day.

This year, there are no arms around him, no soup handed to him with love. Just Lando. His friend who’s been keeping him company at his lonely hut for a few weeks.

His friend who is currently retching up the remnants of last night’s dinner.

Charles crouches by his side, running a soothing hand down Lando’s back as small heaves still wrack his body.

“I think I’m dying.” Lando groans miserably, voice hoarse. He flops back with a dramatic sigh, cheek pressing against the cool floor. 

“You’re not dying.” Charles says, soft but firm, wiping at Lando’s face with a damp cloth. He gently pushes the curls back, fingers careful against his burning hot skin. “Probably just some indigestion. I told you four bowls of stew was not a good idea.”

Lando just groans again, pitiful. “Oscar said it is unlucky to leave fresh stew unfinished.”

“Oscar also thought drinking mint-leaf wine before a full moon would make his ruts end quicker.” Charles says dryly. “Not exactly smart on health decisions.”

But Lando doesn’t laugh like he usually would. He doesn’t even crack a grin or clap back at Charles for daring to bad-mouth his beloved mate. 

Because Oscar’s not here. And that silence, that absence , speaks louder than Lando ever could.

Frankly, Lando has been like this for almost a week now. His appetite comes and goes, little bursts of energy where he helps Charles with the chores but then his energy deflates and he goes moping around in the bed. 

His scent has gone from a vibrant rosy scent to wilted flowers. A sure sign of how much Lando is missing his alpha.

Charles doesn’t press him. Doesn’t dare ask the questions that hang in the air between them.

Because he gets it.

It’s been almost three weeks since Oscar and Seb set out for Aston Martin. Three weeks with no word.

No letters. No updates.

It’s starting to fray at all their edges, even Charles’.

He watches Lando now, who’s blinking up at the ceiling, looking smaller than he ever has in his little cabin and wonders if this is what waiting always feels like. Where you are in a place physically, but your mind always wanders. So you aren’t present at all.

Charles stands with a soft sigh and reaches for the kettle. “Come on, I’ll make you that tea you pretend not to like.”

Lando mutters something incoherent. But he doesn’t say no.

Charles starts steeping some ginger root, slicing it fine and letting it simmer in the kettle. He adds an atrocious amount of honey. Because Lando likes his teas way too sweet.

Then comes the knock. Sharp, steady and far too chipper for the early hour.

Lando pushes up with effort, shaking his head like he can’t believe someone’s already come to bother them. But there’s a faint smile on his lips when he reaches the door — Charles is already dreading it

“Morning Franco.” Lando calls as he opens the door, speaking a bit louder so his voice carries over to where Charles is in the kitchen. “What’ve you got for us today?”

Franco’s voice floats in next, all velvety smooth. “Not us — just for Charles. I brought some wild berries.”

Charles feels the beginnings of a headache pulse at his temples.

If Franco truly is courting him — and Charles has done nothing to discourage him, admittedly — then it’s well past time to set boundaries. He can’t keep letting this linger and fester. It’s not fair.

He steps up beside Lando, who’s smirking behind the door, openly amused at Charles’ misfortune.

Franco’s face lights up the moment he sees him. “Good morning, Charles!”

Charles lets out a resigned breath. “Franco, we need to —”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish because a voice cuts through the air like a blade.

Low, sharp and simmering with disbelief.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Max.

Now the headache throbs more insistently at Charles’ temples.

Franco flinches slightly, instinctively threatened by the presence of a higher-ranking alpha. He turns with a hesitant smile. “Hi Max.”

Max steps up onto the porch, brows drawn tight and mouth set in a firm line. “Well?” he asks, voice unimpressed.

Franco clears his throat, trying for nonchalance. “Just came across some wild berries on my patrol. Thought Charles might like them.”

“Charles doesn’t like berries.” Max replies immediately, tone clipped.

“Oh —”

Before Franco can look more flustered, Charles bristles and reaches for the berries. “These smell amazing. Thanks Franco.” 

Yes, he doesn’t like berries. Always found their texture and tartness unpalatable but no, Max doesn’t get to be right this time. 

Franco beams and proudly puffs out his chest. “I freshly picked them.” He announces, then cowers when Max pointedly glares at him. “Alright well I should go now. But I’ll come again tomorrow!” 

Just as quickly as the alpha arrives, he vanishes around the corner leaving behind a grumbling Max, a snickering Lando and a resigned Charles. 

“Seriously?” Max hunkers down on him as soon as Franco is out of sight. “You are encouraging this?” 

Charles shrugs and makes his way inside to his small kitchen. “It’s harmless.”

“He’s courting you.” Max snaps, following him into the kitchen like a storm cloud.

Charles doesn’t turn. He deems the tea ready and starts getting mugs out. “So what if he is?”

Max huffs and drops heavily into a chair at the dining table – uninvited but Charles lets it slide. Again. “He’s not good enough for you.”

Lando sits gruffly on the other side, his face still pale but his eyes narrow. “Yeah and what kind of alpha does Charles deserve then? An emotionally repressed, unavailable alpha incapable of admitting his own feelings?”

“Lando!” Charles hisses, putting down the mug in front of him a bit too harshly. 

Max for his part, deflates and looks thoroughly chastised but holds his ground. “No.” He grits between his teeth. “But Charles definitely does not deserve an alpha who flirts with anything that has two legs.”

Lando rolls his eyes. “What if Franco is serious and wants to show commitment ? Unlike someone.”

Charles barely suppresses the urge to pour the hot tea over Lando’s head, because why would the other omega keep riling up Max. 

Max grumbles but otherwise chooses to stay silent. 

Lando looks entirely too smug at getting the alpha to shut up, takes one sip of his piping hot tea and immediately regrets it when he burns his tongue. 

“What are you doing here Max?” Charles eventually asks because it is not like the alpha to show up unannounced, especially after their disastrous conversation a few weeks ago. 

Max startles at being addressed directly then clears his throat. “I bought some soup.” He rubs the back of his neck, a bit sheepish. “It’s tomato soup.”

And —

Charles shucks in a harsh breath. 

First snow. Tomato soup. Max. Mamie.  

He tries not to but it still happens — 

Tears begin prickling at his eyes — and Charles quickly looks down, blinking hard, but it’s too late. Lando sees. Max definitely sees.

The weight of the moment presses down like the snow outside, cold and heavy and inescapable.

Max stiffens. “Charles —” He starts, voice low and gently

Charles shakes his head and waves him off, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the table. “I’m fine.” He sniffles slightly.

It isn’t like Charles to get teary over little things but sometimes — days like today, he just misses her so damn much. 

Max places the still-warm container of soup gently on the table between them, like an offering. “It probably won’t even taste that good.” 

Charles lets the alpha open the container and takes the offered spoon, clutching it a bit too tight and sniffles once more before taking a spoonful. 

It doesn’t taste like hers. It never will. And yet —

“I like it.” He says, voice small and soft. “Thank you Max.”

Charles doesn’t understand how he could ever move on if Max kept doing things like this. 

Remembering a memory he held dear to his heart and remembering his likes and dislikes. 

How could Charles ever look at another alpha and not wish they just inherently knew all these things too? 

It is so unfair. 

Charles should ask Max to stop this. To act like he cares only to then turn around and do nothing about it.

But then he supposes, friends can do these things for each other — and suddenly his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he can barely do much more than silently drink his soup.

Lando leaves the table briefly and returns with his own bowl, a tired smile on his face. Max rolls his eyes but ladles some for the other omega as well. 

It’s quiet for a while, just the clinking sounds of spoons hitting the ceramic bowls and the slurping sounds. 

Eventually it's Lando who breaks it.

“Any news from Seb and Oscar?”

Max shakes his head, looking just as downtrodden by the lack of news as they all feel. “I tried to ask if any of the wolves I’ve met during hunts had any news. But — none. Sorry Lando.”

The implications send them into another silence. 

This one is more loaded, no doubt everyone imagines the worst. Aston Martin is just two days' trek away and if needed, they could shift and run it in half the time. It’s been three weeks now. If Seb or Oscar couldn’t get through to Adrian then they should’ve returned by now. 

“There is a snow storm up north.” Max speaks up once more. “Maybe they are just waiting it out.” He supplies. The words spoken more to placate Lando than anything. 

“Yeah. Maybe.” Lando mumbles, head down as he stirs his spoon around idly, his scent that of burnt roses.

Charles meets Max’s eyes, a silent question in them that if he is trying to soften the blow then at least let Charles know but Max just shakes his head. 

The other alpha truly knows nothing of this situation. 

A small dread begins to form in Charles’ mind. 

As if this day could not get any worse, Charles arrives at the medical hut that morning to find two unfamiliar faces inside while Esteban is in the middle of them looking entirely out of place. 

They don’t look to be patients and they are certainly not pack members. 

“Hello?” He greets, cautiously, dusting off his furs and hanging it on a little rack just off to the side. 

“Ah you must be the omega Healer. Charles was it?” The older one of them greets. 

Omega Healer… Those words immediately set Charles on edge. 

“My name is Laurent Mekies. I’m from the Toro Rosso pack.” He extends his hand out in greeting which Charles reluctantly takes. 

Toro Rosso is everything but in name an extension of the Red Bull pack. 

Their pack’s Head Alpha took instructions from Jos, the council of Red Bull governed over it and not to mention whenever border conflicts arose, Toro Rosso eagerly lended its alphas to protect Red Bull’s even if it meant putting their own pack at risk. 

Charles never understood it. Why they didn’t just join or why Red Bull doesn’t just take it over. But he rarely understands politics. 

“I’m Yuki Tsunoda.” The shorter one introduces himself. “I’ve heard many great things about your skills.”

Charles immediately likes Yuki. Not because of the compliment, which definitely helps, but Yuki just has a dissonance about him that’s pleasant. At least Yuki didn’t have the need to bring his designation into introductions.

Both Laurent and Yuki lack scents so it isn’t hard to deduce they were betas.

Assuming they are here for some medical help, Charles gets straight to the point. “How can we help you?”

Laurent chuckles like Charles has just said something amusing rather than ask a perfectly reasonable question.

“We’re Toro Rosso’s Healers.” He replies, like that alone explains their presence. 

“Okay?” Charles half-questions, half-states, still blinking in confusion.

Laurent beams, clearly unfazed. “We’ll be working alongside you from now on.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The council has finally heeded your complaints about being understaffed so here we are.”

Charles stares, unsure if he should feel relief or deeply suspicious. 

While yes, Seb has made it vocal that they would need more hands at the medical hut, their intention has always been to train someone within their pack and for the council to provide them resources for it. Not — not have some other pack’s Healers infiltrate their own like this.

“That’s… convenient timing.” Charles murmurs, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes, just in time for the Big Hunt.” Yuki says, still smiling a bit too politely. “We heard things get messy at Red Bull during then so thought we’d come join now and learn how everything works around here.”

“And of course, offer any suggestions for improvement.” Laurent tacks on. 

No. 

No, Charles did not have a good feeling about this at all. 

He’s proven right about those suspicions when only a few days later, Laurent begins arguing with him.

The argument starts like a flicker — harmless, almost forgettable, Charles was more concerned that the hunting team still haven’t made an effort to find some moonfern — but by mid-afternoon, it turns into something unmistakably hostile.

Charles is sorting through a fresh batch of herbs, carefully separating sprigs of goldenrod and yarrow from a larger bundle of foraged wildflowers, when Laurent walks in an hour later than he is supposed to with his usual quiet but overly sharp stride. 

The new healer has only been stationed at the Red Bull pack for a few days now, sent by the council along with Yuki to “ease the burden” on Charles, though it quickly became clear that Laurent’s real interest is in auditing rather than assisting.

He’s caused more troubles for Charles and Esteban than provide any real help.

The beta pauses just inside the doorway, arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowing as he watches Charles work.

“That’s not how I’d prepare goldenrod.” Laurent says finally, tone clinical.

Charles doesn’t look up. “It’s how we’ve always done it here. It’s gentler on the stomach this way.”

Laurent hums in that infuriating, dismissive way of his. “Gentle doesn’t always mean effective, the way you are preparing it means we need to increase dosage for the desired effect.”

That makes Charles’ jaw tighten. “This isn’t your clinic in Toro Rosso. This is mostly used on our patients who are pups or expecting omegas. Their systems need gentleness.”

Laurent steps further into the room, eyeing the drying racks and labelled shelves like he’s mentally ticking off a list of failures to point out.

“I’ve noticed your methods in general are very outdated. ” He says, scrunching his nose in distaste. “Using marigold over yarrow for wound poultices? Avoiding tansy entirely in your heat kits? Your methods are burning through herbs at a much higher rate.”

Charles finally looks up, rising from his crouch. “We avoid tansy because it’s too easy to overdose with untrained hands. I’m not going to risk an omega accidentally taking a miscarriage tea instead of a heat soother because it’s more effective .”

Laurent raises an eyebrow. “Then perhaps the solution is better trained Healers and not misuse of precious herbs.”

The words land like a slap and Charles feels the slow rise of anger at this random beta judging something he’s dedicated his life to. He steps around the herb table, placing himself fully in Laurent’s line of sight.

“We’ve never had a case of mistreated patients or heard any valid complaints towards our Healers —” Laurent opens his mouth to argue, but Charles raises a hand. “I’m not finished. I’ve been doing this since I was six. I’ve cared for this pack through many winters, four border skirmishes, three fever outbreaks and every single birth in the last three years. Don’t mistake our caution for incompetence.”

Laurent doesn’t back down. “And yet you are begging every other week at the council meetings for the hunting teams to find herbs.” 

“If the hunting team isn’t making a big deal of this, I’m not sure why you are bringing it up?” Charles asks, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Right well -–” Laurent drawls. “Is that why we have run out of moonfern?” 

Charles bristles. “Moonfern is hard to find and I don’t see how this relates?” 

“Well the team would have more time to search for moonfern if not for your other neverending demands.”

“The hunting teams have completely stopped going to the areas filled with moonfern since winter has begun. They cannot hunt anything else there.” Charles argues back.

Laurent’s tone is condescending even though there’s a polite fake smile on his features. “You cannot possibly know where the hunting teams go.”

Charles just about suppresses a groan of frustration. What is Laurent even trying to prove here? 

He straightens his spine instead, jaw tight. “Actually I’ve worked alongside the hunt teams for years now — ever since my grandmother made it clear that healing begins with knowing the land. I map routes. I track where the herbs best grow. I know which soil yields what and where the sun hits long enough to encourage bloom. So yes, Laurent, I do know.”

Laurent doesn’t immediately respond but there’s a faint flicker of annoyance in the way he shifts his stance. His arms cross over his chest, defensive. 

“I’m not saying you don’t know things…” He tries again, smoothing the edges of his voice. “I’ve just had a rummage through your log books and moonfern was being administered for the smallest of ailments. Such a precious herb should be treated more carefully. What will you do if we get a real emergency in the next few days?"

A heavy silence falls between them. The air is thick with the scent of dried herbs and tension. Charles can feel his pulse in his ears, but he refuses to be the one to break.

Behind them, a stool creaks — Esteban, who’s been quietly working in the corner, glances up warily. Even he can feel the storm brewing.

Laurent smooths a hand over his sleeve, a slight smirk on his face like he’d just won this argument. “I’m only saying — there are more effective ways to run a medical hut. You’d know that if you had other experience than just training under your grandmother’s wing.”

That cuts deeper than Charles expects and it must show, because Laurent hesitates. But Charles just lifts his chin —

“Maybe when half of your pack’s omegas stop coming here for treatment, then I’ll be more inclined to take your advice.”

Without waiting for a reply, Charles turns sharply and begins re-sorting the herbs, fingers moving automatically in practiced motions. 

Laurent doesn't say another word, just walks out to the general ward.

Esteban shifts, then murmurs from the corner. “He’s such an ass.”

Charles doesn’t respond. He just presses a hand to his temple and exhales through his nose. He loathes to agree but Laurent did have a point. They were desperately in need of restocking moonfern. 

“Cha — this is such a bad idea.” 

Charles bundled his furs tighter around himself. “It’s not.” He insisted, slipping into his boots. 

That evening, just as he finished his shift at the medical hut, Charles had made up his mind. He would go find this damn moonfern himself.

Plus getting away from this pack for a day will do wonders. 

Lately his mind has been clogged with worry. So much of it.

He’s worried about the lack of news from Seb and Oscar, he’s worried for Lando and how the omega’s health seems to deteriorate by the day, he’s worried about Ollie who is wearing a mask like it’s his second skin and finally he’s worried about Laurent.

The one thing he refuses to be worried about is having emergencies requiring moonfern when they had none. 

Laurent, while being obnoxious most of the time, was right about this one thing and Charles has frankly had enough begging the council to do something.

This mini expedition is killing two birds with one stone, he gets to stock up on moonfern while also having some time away so he could clear his thoughts. 

Lando blocks the doorway with his arms crossed, wearing his most serious expression — which would’ve been more convincing if he didn’t still have a smear of jam on the corner of his mouth. “You’re not even wearing proper boots. You want to trudge through frosty woods in those!?”

Charles looks down at his well-worn boots, sure they’ve seen better days but — “I’ve done it before.”

Lando shakes his head. “At least wear mine.”

Charles concedes only so the other omega will stop fussing. “I’ll only be away for a day at most. If you feel ill then —”

“Yes, yes! I will go to the medical hut immediately. You have only told me fifty times by now.” 

The fussing definitely goes two ways.

Lando hesitates for a beat, lips pressed in a tight line. Then, slowly, he steps aside. “Be careful.”

Charles slings a satchel over his shoulder, giving him a quick hug. “I will.”

He doesn’t make it five steps outside before a familiar shadow moves toward him from the trees. At first, it’s hard to tell who it is through the gentle flurry of snow — but then Charles catches a familiar stride, a familiar scowl.

Max.

Charles frowns immediately. “What are you doing here?”

Max’s brow lifts. “Joining you of course.”

Charles glances back at Lando, who’s lingering by the doorway, suddenly very interested in the frost patterns on the porch railing.

“You told him?” Charles hisses.

Lando shrugs, unapologetic. “I wasn’t going to let you wander off into the mountains like an idiot.”

Charles glares at the two of them, apparently for once teaming together to go against him. 

Charles looks at Max, really looks at him — the alpha already wrapped in his thick cloak, snowflakes dusting his shoulders, eyes determined, still he tries —

“I can go by myself.” He says. “Wouldn’t want the council getting the wrong idea.”

Max smiles, a small smug little thing. “If that’s your only excuse then you needn’t worry. I’ve already reported this. Told them it is for moonfern and with the Big Hunt coming up, they couldn’t really refuse.”

And – 

Fuck. 

There goes his wish of getting some alone time. 

“Cha, please.” Lando calls out. “At least this way I’ll feel more relief.”

He exhales slowly. “Fine.”

Max smirks, just barely. “After you.”

Charles huffs and begins walking, Max following close behind. Their footprints already vanishing in the freshly falling snow.

They pass the way from his hut to pack borders in silence, just the soft crunch of snow beneath their boots the only sounds. 

Charles wrings his hands together, thinking of what he could say to fill in this awkwardness when finally Max speaks up. 

“Surprised you didn’t ask Franco to accompany you.”

Charles slows slightly, just enough to glance sideways at him, brow furrowing. “Why would I?”

Max shrugs, keeping his gaze fixed on the treeline. “He seems eager to help. Shows up with berries, loiters around the hut. Thought he’d jump at the chance to prove himself useful.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “Franco’s idea of usefulness is bragging about his hunting records.”

There’s a pause. Then — “So you did notice.”

Charles doesn’t answer that. He tugs his cloak tighter around him instead.

Max continues after a beat, tone still maddeningly even. “You seemed fine letting him hover around.”

“I was being polite,” Charles mutters. “Also you don’t get to be annoyed about it. You were the one who —”

He stops himself before the rest spills out. Before — you were the one who pulled away — takes shape.

Max stops walking. Charles does too, turning to face him.

“Franco’s not worthy. Not worthy enough to be with — you.” The alpha says with such conviction, that Charles is momentarily frozen. 

He stills, blinking once, twice. “Max —”

“I mean it.” Max cuts in, his voice rough. “He doesn’t see you. Not the way you deserve to be seen. Not the way I —”

Charles sighs. “Come on.” He mutters, knowing Max won’t complete that sentence. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can come back.”

The alpha follows — close enough now that their arms brush every few steps.

They find a small cave of sorts and hurry inside to take shelter from the blizzard. 

They’d been walking for hours, the trail growing harder to follow as the sky darkened and wind picked up. At one point the path had grown so narrow that Max’s bigger wolf form struggled to stay on course and they eventually had to shift back.

But now — what began as a light flurry had turned into a full blizzard, snow slashing sideways. The icy wind slapping him in the face, each cold breath burning as it went down his lungs. 

The conditions became so brutal and visibility so low that they had no choice but to duck into the first bit of shelter they could find — a cave tucked just behind a cluster of frost-bitten trees.

Charles drops onto the floor behind a big rock that’s blocking most of the wind. But the chill remains. There’s uncontrollable tremors wracking his body, his breath comes out in icy smoke in front of him, he can’t feel his fingers or toes and his entire face is numb.

Max looks only slightly better. 

“Anything in there to keep us warm?” Max nods his head to the satchel Charles is carrying filled with emergency medical supplies. 

“Yes — but -–” Charles shakes his head. “We cannot have it.”

The alpha furrows his brows. “Why not? This counts as emergencies no? You are about to freeze to death.”

As if Charles doesn’t fucking know. 

“They are aphrodisiacs.” He deadpans. 

Because yes, aphrodisiacs do raise the core temperature of a wolf while also, well — it also raises their sexual drive. Which wasn’t exactly going to help in this situation.

Max snorts. “Aphrodisiacs count as emergency medicine? Why are you carrying that around?”

Charles flushes, enough to feel his cheeks warm just a tad. 

“It’s a special blend. Thought it might be useful when bartering.” He defends weakly. 

Max raises a brow. “Where exactly would you need to barter?”

Charles sighs, frustrated. “I didn’t specifically pack a bag for this trip Max. Just grabbed what I usually do!”

The alpha chuckles but gets up once more, removing his fur and draping it around Charles. “I’ll try to find some branches or twigs we can burn to make a fire. You stay here.” 

Charles makes a small noise of complaint and catches the alpha’s hand before Max pulls away. 

He suddenly feels scared at the prospect of being here alone and sending Max out there to brave the blizzard. 

Max notices immediately. Because of course he does. “I’ll shift so I don’t need the furs and I’ll be careful.” He squeezes his hand once and smiles reassuringly before slipping out. 

Charles stares at the place he vanished for a long beat, the silence pressing in around him like another layer of snow. The cold gnaws at his joints, his teeth beginning to chatter uncontrollably. 

He curls tighter into himself, tugging his furs around his shoulders, revelling in the sea salt breeze drenched in it. The scent of summer. The scent of Max.

Everything aches.

He needs to distract himself. He needs something familiar, something grounding.

So he closes his eyes, steadies his breath and starts listing the steps for a basic healing salve — one of the first things his grandmother had taught him when he was just learning how to grind herbs.

Step one: crush the dried tulasi and lavender into a fine powder using the mortar and pestle. Always circular movements, never pressing too hard or the oils get too bitter.

Step two: melt beeswax over low heat. Keep stirring, even when your arm wants to fall off. Don’t let it burn — it’ll ruin the base.

His lips quirk at the memory of Mamie scolding him when he’d ruined three batches in a row, calling him “an overzealous stirrer” and banning him from beeswax duty for a week.

The thought wraps around him like the gentlest balm and for a moment, he forgets about the cold, the silence and the lack of warmth. He forgets he’s sitting in a blizzard in the middle of nowhere, waiting for someone he can’t bear to lose.

The healing salve finishes and he moves onto how to brew a tea that helps with easing an omega during delivery.

Step one: Boil the water, not too hot. Never let it fully boil, Mamie had warned. Gentle heat for gentle bodies.

Step two: Start with raspberry leaf — this helps strengthen the uterine walls. One heaping spoonful. Not too much, or it’ll make the cramps worse…

Then —

A faint crunch outside.

Charles stiffens.. “Max?” He slowly calls out.

The alpha’s form materialises at the entrance before his voice floats through. “Yep, just me.”

Charles feels like he can finally exhale.

Max drops the bundle of half-dry branches he's collected, shaking the flakes off his hair. “The original path is fully blocked. We’ll have to take the back mountains.” He says, glancing at where Charles crouches low, arms wrapped around himself.

Charles shivers, teeth chattering, manages to ask. “Do you think we can get back home by tomorrow?”

“Nope, we’ll have to stay here overnight. It’s getting worse out there. The earliest we can get back to the pack is probably the day after.” Max mutters, pulling a small flint from his pockets and begins to stack the driest of the twigs at the centre of a small circle of rocks. “I need your help. Are your hands still working okay?”

Charles flexes his fingers, red and raw. “Barely.” 

Max takes his fingers between his hands and rubs them. The naturally higher body temperature of an alpha works in his favour but even then it only warms him slightly. “That should do. I need you to block the wind.” 

Charles nods and kneels closer.

Max strikes the flint against the rocks once, twice and then the third time, a tiny flame catches on the birch bark. Charles leans in, shielding the flame from the howling wind with his hands as Max feeds it twigs.

Slowly but surely the fire spreads. And together, they coax the flame to life. 

The warmth is slow to follow and even then it’s not enough to chase away the chill completely, not yet but it’s still better than anything out there.

Max sits back on his heels, exhaling, sweat beading at his temple despite the cold. “We’ve got it.” He murmurs, voice hoarse from the cold air.

Charles allows himself the tiniest smile, rubbing his hands together and inching closer to the flame. “Barely.” He says, his tone light but his eyes soft. “But I’ll take it.”

The fire cracks and pops softly, casting flickering shadows across their faces. Max glances over at him, his eyes catching the light in a way that makes Charles look away too quickly.

Outside, the storm still howls. But inside this little pocket of warmth, it's just them and the fire they built together.

Charles then realises he’s still hogging Max’s furs and goes to remove them. “Here, have these back.” But before he can pass them over, the alpha is already shaking his head.

“It’s fine.” He insists. 

Except Charles notices how Max’s hands are still trembling, how his cheeks and the tip of his nose are tinged a worrying red, not the cute kind but the kind that looks painful.

“You’re freezing.” Charles says once more.

But Max cuts him off. “No. You’re colder than I am.”

Charles scoffs. “You’re shaking, Max.”

There’s a brief silence, just the crackle of the fire between them, the muffled howl of wind outside the cave. Then Max glances over, eyes dark and unreadable.

“We could —” He pauses, clears his throat. “We should share body heat.”

Charles blinks. “What?”

“Just you know. It will help.” Max shrugs, going for casualness but his voice is at an unnatural higher pitch. “We can both share the furs and um, we’ll warm up faster together.”

Charles hesitates. It’s not that he disagrees. He knows the logic. Charles has heard stories of their hunters doing this. Stuck in a blizzard, so they form a small huddle to share the heat amongst themselves and together they make it out. Safe and sound. 

It’s survival. 

But then — it’s Max . And somehow, that makes the whole action feel heavier. Bridled with implications. He doesn’t know what being in such close proximity to the other will make him feel. 

And yet — it is survival. 

He’s still contemplating what to do when Max lets out a small sneeze and then it’s easier to convince himself that they need to do this or else the alpha will fall ill.

“Right.” Charles relents. “Body heat. Practical. Makes sense.”

Max nods once and shifts closer to the fire and opens his legs lightly, a perfect slot for Charles to fit into. 

Charles crawls in slowly, shrugging off the furs and carefully draping them over Max’s shoulders before tucking himself in between the alpha’s open legs. Settling against Max’s broad chest.

He’s careful not to make too much of it — but not pulling away either when Max’s arm comes around his waist, firm and tight. 

The fire crackles louder now, or maybe that’s just the pounding of Charles’ heart. 

Charles tries to ignore the way his entire body seems to react to the closeness — the heat of Max’s chest pressed against his back, the soft exhale of breath that brushes against his ear, the steady beat of a heart far calmer than his own.

It’s just survival. Practical.

Except Max shifts, just slightly, adjusting the furs so they’re cocooned tighter, and his lips brush lightly against the shell of Charles’ ear. Not purposeful, not even intimate — but it sends a shiver down Charles’ spine that has nothing to do with the cold.

He tenses for half a second but apparently that is enough for Max to notice. 

“You okay?” Max asks, voice a whisper. 

It sends another tingle up his spine which Charles ignores to quickly nod. “ ‘M fine.”

Max doesn’t believe him, if the slight chuckle is anything to go by. 

They dissolve into silence then, except Charles’ thoughts are running a million miles an hour trying to distract himself from the closeness to the other alpha. 

He knows he told himself that he wasn’t looking for answers anymore, that whatever Max has to say wouldn’t change his mind. 

But — they were here now. 

Charles sees all the subtle ways that Max shows that he cares — cares about Charles.

From finding Rebecca and Isa, from keeping Carlos away to remembering his hatred for berries and his love for tomato soup — Max cares. 

And if it is just friendly gestures — then why does the alpha look so pained whenever they are reminded of that. 

So he braves himself and — finally asks. 

“Why did Mamie tell you to stay away?”

Max tenses behind him and for a few moments he seems to be rigid, like he’s holding his breath and or maybe he’s waiting for Charles to take his question back. 

But Charles doesn’t, instead he prods.

“Why Max?” 

The arms around him loosen just slightly and Charles immediately hates it, hates the way Max is closing off to him.

“Please Max.” He pleads. “I want to understand why —” 

Why when it seems that you love me back, why you won’t have me —

 — Is what he wants to say but he leaves the sentence there hoping Max could read between the lines and answer him.

It takes a few more seconds before Max hesitantly starts. 

“Your grandmother didn’t want that life for you.” He doesn’t elaborate, just — trails off. 

Charles is unsatisfied. What did that even mean? So he asks again.

“What life?”

Max shifts further away, the warmth of his chest leaving Charles’ back entirely. 

“Being a Head Omega.”

Charles turns now, facing him fully, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Stop with the half-answers, Max. We are locked in here the whole night. You don’t have any excuses unless you just won't answer. In that case — maybe there’s nothing left to salvage here.”

That gets Max’s attention. His expression tightens and something fragile flickers in his eyes.

“Charlie —”

“No.” Charles cuts him off, glare unwavering.

Max finally sighs, resigned and begins recounting. 

“After Daniel left and it was obvious I’d be named Head Alpha next, your grandmother came to see me. She said you shouldn’t have to carry that weight. That you deserved better than what came with the title of Head Omega.”

Charles’ heart stutters, dread tightening in his chest. “What kind of weight?”

Max falters. Then, his voice cracks. “The council would ask my mother... as Head Omega and um before she had me... they would send her to other packs. To alphas. To negotiate, to build alliances — to gain favour for Red Bull.”

Charles goes still. “Max…”

“I never asked her what exactly happened — I couldn’t. But all she said it was for the best.” Max continues, voice strained. “But your grandmother knew. She saw enough. She didn’t want that life touching you. She begged me to keep you away from it. Then after Daniel — after he was framed and cast out, it only solidified her belief. That there is a chance you wouldn’t be accepted and would face the same fate. Maybe even worse. The council could do anything and I — I wouldn’t have been able to stop it.”

Charles can’t even begin to fathom what favours meant. He could read between the lines enough and yet it seems he was living in such a naive bubble, he hadn’t realised such cruelties existed. 

Perhaps he was also protected from this by his grandmother — tucked away in the medical hut. 

Safe and warm.  

Max swallows hard, looking anywhere but at Charles. “She knew what was being asked of Head Omegas in Red Bull and what being beside me meant — she didn’t want that for you. I didn’t want that for you.” He finishes quietly. 

The fire crackles on, casting flickering shadows across Max’s face, outside the howling wind shunts icy air through the entrance and Charles suddenly understands the weight of the silence his grandmother had carried all those years. 

The quiet warnings. The insistence that he stay away from council business. That he keeps his head down and focuses on healing. Not because he wasn’t capable — but because she wanted to protect him from this .

Charles blinks, struggling to absorb everything that was thrown at him. “You – you said Daniel was framed?”

Max bristles. “Of course. There is not a single soul who believed that he would be conspiring with neighbouring packs. It was Daniel.” Max stresses. “ — he  just wanted to make our father proud. He dedicated his life to Red Bull. Extra patrols, hours spent looking at resources and rations, he’d volunteer to go to the packs that were too far just to find more allies, he barely spent time with family or friends — he fucking did it all!”

The frustration from Max is palpable. 

His heart hurts for Daniel. The alpha who only ever radiated happiness, quietly longing for acceptance and instead he was thrown away as if his dedication meant nothing. 

“Is he —” Charles hesitates to ask but a part of him always wondered too. “Is he well now?”

Max’s expression twists, bitter and hollow. He shrugs helplessly. “Don’t know. I couldn’t find him anywhere. I asked around. Went to many packs but he just — disappeared.” The alpha’s eyes lift to meet Charles’, glassy and something raw.  “I can’t have that happen to you too, Charles — I just can’t .”

“You won’t lose me, Max.” He says, voice thick. “I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Max exhales shakily, unconvinced. “You don’t know what they are capable of. You saw what happened last time — and if I’m too late to protect you then what?”

“Maybe.” Charles continues, softer now. “Maybe next time you don’t try to protect me by pushing me away. Maybe we face it together. Like we always should’ve.”

Max lets out a frustrated groan. “It’s not that easy Charles. If it were — would your grandmother had asked of that?” 

“She was scared. So were you. But I’m scared too, Max. Of being kept in the dark, of being treated like I’m fragile. I’m not. I’m also allowed to protect the people I love!” Charles argues.

Max’s jaw clenches. “I know! But do you think I can forget what they almost did to you? What they wanted to do?”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Maybe meeting at my hut wouldn’t have been so scandalous if you hadn’t pushed me away in the first place!”

Max flinches at that, like the words strike bone. But he doesn’t deny it.

“I don’t want protection, Max. I —” Charles starts, voice trembling. 

Then thinks — fuck it. He will say what he needs to say and if the alpha won’t have him, then maybe that is all the closure would need to finally move on.

“I want you . All of you. Not this version that’s scared of the future. I want my friend back. The one who used to laugh with me in the meadows. The one who wasn’t scared to pick fights with grown alphas. The one who may have — loved me.”

Silence stretches thick between them. The blizzard outside is relentless but here, it’s like the fire itself crackles softer, like the weight of everything spoken is pressing on them both. Like the world pauses, holding its breath like Charles is. Waiting — 

Finally, Max speaks — low, almost a whisper. “You think I never have or that I — stopped ?”

Charles blinks, doesn’t answer.

Max’s gaze darkens and for the first time in a long while, Charles sees it — not fear, not guilt, but longing.

“I d–don’t know. Maybe. Y–yes” He eventually stutters. “You never —”

He doesn’t get to finish —

— because in the space between one heartbeat and the next, Max is moving, closing the distance, reaching for him with the same hands that once tugged him through the woods and caught him when he fell from a tree. 

But this isn’t childhood anymore and the look in Max’s eyes is no longer boyish mischief — it could only be described as a kind of hunger. Restrained and aching.

His hands frame Charles’ face gently, reverently, as if asking permission even as his gaze, the normal blue swallowed by black, burns with something impatient. 

Charles gives just the tiniest nod, holding his breath, his fingers tightly clench the furs and his eyes automatically close as Max finally —  finally leans in.

The alpha’s lips brush against his, with the gentleness of a falling snowflake – soft, light but certain.

Chapter Text

“Why are we even doing this, Mamie?” Charles grumbled, his breath fogging in the chilly morning air. 

His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of his pack and every step felt like a protest from his aching legs. 

He was cold, tired, hungry and frankly a little pissed. 

They’d been trudging through forest trails and rocky paths for days now, only stopping when night forced them to make camp and then each morning they’d pack up and repeat. 

His grandmother, ever composed and maddeningly cryptic, had offered little in the way of explanations. 

It was unlike her and it was grating at his edges. 

All she’d told Charles was that they needed to find a rare herb, something essential and delicate, tucked away in some remote place. Where exactly? She wouldn't say. Why now? Just a shake of the head and a soft – “Patience Charlie.”

But his patience was wearing thin. 

What his grandmother was doing felt purposeful — 

Yes, Charles had been brooding for a few days now but he thinks that’s a normal reaction to your best friend suddenly ignoring you. 

He had tried to reach out to Max. To ask if everything was okay. To talk like they used to. But all he got in return were curt replies and cold shoulders, like Max was shutting him out.

Charles had never heard of a presentation changing someone’s entire personality overnight, but that’s exactly how it felt. Max had become an alpha and suddenly it was like he’d flipped a switch. The warmth, the laughter, the comfort — they were gone.

At first, Charles tried not to take it personally. Maybe Max was overwhelmed, adjusting with the new changes, responsibilities. Maybe it was temporary. But the longer it went on, the harder it became to convince himself it wasn’t about him.

A part of him kept whispering that maybe Max had figured it out. The feelings Charles had tried so hard to keep hidden. And maybe Max was disgusted. Maybe he needed space. Or worse, maybe he just didn’t want Charles around anymore —

“We’re almost there.”

His grandmother’s voice cut through his spiral of thoughts, grounding him — if only for a moment. He knew exactly what she was doing. Her timing hadn’t been a coincidence. She was trying to lift his mood with this little outing.

“I know what you’re doing.” He muttered, side stepping an overgrown root, bristling at how dangerous this path was. Less for him and more for his grandmother. She could seriously be injured!

“Oh? And what exactly am I doing?” She asked, clearly amused.

“It’s because I’ve been —” He stumbled for words to reply to her. “I’m not like upset over Max or anything —”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe a little. But I’ll get over it. It’s Max’s loss anyway.” He added quickly, the bitterness slipping through before he could stop it.

“Mmm.” She stopped walking for a moment and turned to look at him, her eyes soft but sharp. “You’re allowed to be upset, you know. He’s your friend.” A beat passed. “Especially since you wish to be more than that.”

Charles froze. His stomach dropped.

“I — no. I don’t know what you mean!” He stammered, his voice cracking as his face flushed a deep, traitorous red.

His grandmother chuckled, reaching over to gently pinch one of his burning cheeks.

“Oh, Charlie.” She said with a smile that was both teasing and knowing. “Who are you trying to fool?”

He groaned, covering his face with one hand as his blush deepened. It was a fool’s play to even try to lie to his grandmother. 

Actually, foolish didn’t even begin to cover it. Of course she knew. She had probably known before he did.

“Do — do you think Max knows?” He asked slowly, aware how pathetic he sounds. “Is – is that why he won’t speak to me now?”

His grandmother’s expression softened. “If Max is the one for you then you will find your way to each other. No matter what obstacles come your way, he will find you.”

It didn’t do much to quell the festering doubts in his mind but he didn’t want to bother his grandmother with his own burdens anymore. She had enough worries as is, so he just smiled and nodded. 

It took another hour before they finally reached a clearing that opened out onto the cliffs, where the dense forest gave way to wind, sky and water — endless water.

The sea stretched out before them, glistening like a thousand scattered diamonds in the late afternoon sun. 

Charles stopped in his tracks, breath catching in his throat. He had never seen anything like it — never imagined so much water could exist in one place. It rolled out endlessly, shimmering beneath the sky until it touched the horizon, vast and breathtaking. 

It was overwhelming. Terrifying, even. And yet, Charles didn’t feel fear. What he felt was awe.

“Woah —” He breathed.

His grandmother chuckled behind him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Charlie?”

He couldn’t speak, only nodded, dazed and completely captivated.

Charles had a small inkling about where they were. Heard his grandmother talk fondly about this place enough to know exactly where this was. They were at — Ferrari.

They were where the Ferrari pack was before. 

The place he was born, the place that he had no memory of.

“This is where we lived?” He asked at last, eyes still fixed on the sea.

A bittersweet expression crossed her face as she pointed toward a small rock face nestled into the cliffside. “Just beyond that ridge. That was home.”

Charles tried to picture it — what a life beside the sea might’ve looked like. 

The cold here wasn’t as biting the way it was back at Red Bull; it was milder, saltier and didn’t seem to settle into his very bones.

Still, despite the cold, it was peaceful in a way he hadn’t expected. The crashing waves, the briny air, the golden winter sun hanging just above the horizon — it all carried a strange serenity.

He could see why someone would love this place.

He’d lived here once, for the first three years of his life — a time that now felt like a story someone else had told him. He didn’t remember the sea. He didn’t remember his parents' faces. He didn’t remember the night of the attack on Ferrari, nor the frantic escape, or the three-day journey through rubble and ruin to Red Bull.

All of it was just... blank.

Max used to tell him stories about his own early memories — the first time he held his baby sister, the first time his father scolded him, his mother’s white dress fluttering in the wind. 

Max had all these tiny, vivid, fragmented memories of an entire life lived before Charles had even entered it. 

But Charles had none. Just darkness. 

His life felt like it started at Red Bull — that was all his memories consisted of. Woods, dry chilly air and smoke from the bonfires that had to be constantly lit to provide warmth to the pack.

He didn’t know this — 

This sunshine, endless blue skies and even more endless blue ocean. 

“What was it like?” He asked, quietly, eyes never leaving the waves. “Life here?”

His grandmother exhaled, a soft sound somewhere between a sigh and a hum. “It was… nice,” She said at last. “Ferrari was a small pack, mon amour. We all knew each other. We cared for each other deeply.”

“Really?”

She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Ferrari wolves loved the water.” She said wistfully. “We survived off the sea. Fishing, gathering, swimming. The weather was always gentle, mostly sunshine. It felt like we were always in summer.”

Charles wrinkled his nose. “I think I would’ve missed the snow.”

His grandmother laughed softly and ruffled his hair. “I know, Charlie. You were always different.”

“Yeah?” he said again, quieter this time.

She nodded. “Never liked seafood either. But even still, I think you would’ve liked it here. It was your home.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t feel like this was the moment to insist she was wrong. Correct her and say Red Bull was his home. 

But that was the truth. Life at Red Bull had been his only world since he could remember. 

How could he grieve for something he’d never truly known?

He had ideas about his parents, faint sketches he’d painted in his mind from his grandmother’s words. He had images of what this place might have been — maybe a little cottage near the cliffs, maybe an open front door to let the sea air in, maybe laughter.

But that’s all they were. Ideas. Not memories.

And how could he mourn a life he never lived?

Not the way his grandmother did.

“Do you miss it, Mamie?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Every single day.” Her voice was soft, unwavering. 

Charles couldn’t share this sorrow with her, for he was thankful that he’d grown up in Red Bull. Otherwise he wouldn’t have met Max but he could pull his grandmother into a hug and offer a warm shoulder for her to lean on, just like she had done many times for him.

The soft touch was there one second and gone just as quickly in the next —

Charles’ breath stutters. His eyes fluttering open, lashes trembling, and there was Max — still so close, just a few breaths away, his expression caught somewhere between shock and awe.

His eyes were wide, like he hadn’t meant to do it. Like it had slipped out before he could stop it.

The gentle hand cradling his face drops in the next second too, as if burned. 

“Max?” Charles whispers, confused, barely trusting his voice.

Max doesn’t move away. His throat bobs with a swallow, his fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s holding himself back — either from fleeing or reaching out again, Charles couldn’t tell.

“ I—” Max starts, then stops, biting down on his lips.

Charles’ waits for the alpha to speak. His heart pounds so loudly he’s sure Max could hear it. 

A silence stretches between them, heavy with all the things neither of them knew how to say.

But something has shifted.

Something undeniable.

Charles took a slow breath, grounding himself in the way Max still looks at him — not with pity or confusion, but fear. And maybe… hope? 

It gives him enough courage to break the silence. 

“Did you mean to do that?” He finally asks.

Max looks away for a second, as if the weight of Charles’ gaze is too much. But then he looks back, jaw tensing, eyes shining with determination. 

“Yes.” He says, voice steady before it cracks again — “But not like that. Not — so suddenly.”

Charles blinks, trying to read between the lines, trying to understand what Max is leaving out. “Then how?”

Max hesitates, then moves back just a little, giving him space even though Charles wants to do nothing more than to pull him back.

“I’ve wanted to.” He explains softly. “For a long time. I just... didn’t think you’d want me to. Anymore at least —” 

Charles didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know how to begin to explain what an idiot Max is. Hesitating once again, when they made it so far. 

But his fingers, almost without thinking, reach for Max’s. Pulling the alpha back until he is back in his space, where he should always be.

“You big, stupid alpha!” He scolds and —

And then he kisses him.

It’s not soft like Max’s kiss. Not gentle or fleeting. It’s fierce, frustrated, full of years of confusion and longing. His hand fists in Max’s tunic, pulling him even closer, grounding himself in the solid, warm reality of him.

For a moment, Max is frozen — shocked. But then — then finally — he kisses back.

His hand finds Charles’ jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek, while the other wraps around his waist like instinct, pulling him that much closer to the alpha’s chest. 

It’s messy and breathless, but it’s real. Real in the way that makes Charles’ chest hurt so sweetly and has his knees go weak. 

No doubt he’d have collapsed to the ground if they weren’t already sitting down. 

Max’s hands on his body are big, warm — they feel like anchors. Protective. Safe. They rest at the dip of Charles’ waist, fingers curling with intention, not just holding but bruising – claiming. 

He squeezes gently, pulling Charles closer, closer still, until there’s no space left to doubt. Until Charles can feel the quiet tremble in Max’s breath, the restraint barely holds him together.

And Charles — he melts into it. Into him .

Max feels like everything Charles has ever needed. 

He’s solid where the world is shifting, warm where the cold always creeps in. 

In these arms, Charles feels like he could brave the blizzard waiting outside. Like he could walk straight into the council building and call all of them out. He could do it all – brave the world as long as he could return into these arms.

Max’s lips are soft and plush, moving against his with a care that makes Charles ache. Like Max is still surprised he’s allowed to kiss him.

But Charles kisses him back with certainty. With years of buried want and sleepless nights and unspoken words tucked inside the curve of his ribs, right next to his beating heart. 

He presses all of his unsaid confessions into the alpha’s lips. Willing him to stay – willing him to not leave this time.

Charles let his hands run over Max’s back, memorising every line and ridge through the fabric.

They eventually have to part, his lungs screaming that he needs air — Charles just wants to scream back. This is enough, you don’t need air – this has to be enough.

“I dreamed of this. More times than I can count.” Max exhales shakily, his forehead pressing to Charles’. 

“Me too.”

Charles closes his eyes and for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets himself believe it. Let’s himself want it — have it.

Because Max’s hands, Max’s kiss, Max’s presence — it’s not a dream. It’s now. It’s real.

And Charles is never l etting it go.

The fire crackles softly beside them, casting flickering golden light across the stone walls of the cave. Outside, the wind continues to howl menacingly but for once Charles didn’t feel scared — he feels safe. 

“What are you thinking about?” Max asks, breaking the small silence that settles between them. 

Charles looks at Max, looks into everything Max was carrying — still carrying. 

“I’m thinking —” Charles starts, voice low, careful. “ — that I can’t lose you again.”

Max’s expression shifts just slightly but it’s enough for Charles to see the flicker of guilt, of pain, still buried there.

“I get why you did what you did.” Charles continues.. “I understand how Mamie was afraid. I know she was trying to protect me. And maybe you were too.” He pauses, takes a shaky breath. “But I don’t want that. I’m allowed to make my own decisions. If I want to stand beside you — then I should be allowed to.”

Silence stretches again, thicker this time.

Max doesn’t say anything for a long time and Charles worries if he’s misspoken, if he’s misunderstood and if this isn’t what Max wants after all. But then —

“Come here.” Max says, voice rough, low with something barely restrained

He doesn’t give Charles time to contemplate. Doesn’t let him answer. He just pulls.

Pulls him in with both hands — urgent, aching — and crushes their mouths together.

The kiss is nothing like the last. Or the one before. It’s not cautious. It’s not tentative.

It’s desperate .

He tilts his head just so their lips slot against each other better. 

Max doesn’t hesitate, prodding his tongue relentlessly against the seam of his lips, asking — no, demanding entrance. Charles only gives in too easily. 

The alpha’s arms come back to wind around his waist, pulling and pulling until Charles lands comfortably in Max’s lap, his own arms coming to loop around the alpha’s neck.

Charles doesn’t even notice it – not really — but he’s letting out small noises. Little whines and whimpers at the way Max is just devouring him. Barely letting him breathe before claiming his lips again. 

God. How did Max go so long without kissing him when he’s kissing like this ?! 

Their mingled scents are making him dizzy, the tantalising smell of the ocean, cherries — a perfect sunny day. A dreamy escape in this blizzard. 

Max’s hands trail up and down, like he isn’t sure which part of Charles he wants to touch, like he wants to touch everywhere. Eventually they find the hem of his tunic and slip underneath. 

He doesn’t mean to do it — but the skin on skin contact makes him buck, a small whine leaving his mouth. 

Charles shifts just slightly, enough that his ass is right against where Max is — fuck. Charles feels it, the alpha’s arousal. Hard and big. He smells it too, the heady muskiness in the air which no doubt his own scent was matching and he’s so willing — so ready —

“Wait… wait.” Max pulls back. “Have you ever —?”

“No. I — Yes.” Charles stutters, still dazed. “W-what was the question?”

Max chuckles, low and warm – Charles feels it reverberate through his whole body. “I’m saying we should stop …” The alpha waves vaguely at the minimal distance between them. “... this, before I lose control.”

Was it so bad to lose control ; is what he wants to ask but instead Charles shuffles back, a small pout unconsciously gracing his features. 

Max doesn’t let him though, the hands which wandered down to his hips, tighten their hold. “It –It’s not that I don’t want to. Fuck you have no idea just how much I do — but I need to do right by you.”

Charles lets out a groan and flops his head onto Max’s shoulder. “Eugh. Stop it doesn’t have to be a big deal—”

The alpha fully pulls him into a hug. “I’m not budging on this. I will need to get permission, court you, then we’ll having a mating ceremony and then we can fuc—”

Charles slaps a hand across the grinning alpha’s mouth. 

“Who do you need permission from exactly?” Charles asks, partly to shift the conversation and partly out of genuine curiosity.

Traditionally, permission comes from parents or the elders of a household — neither of which Charles has anymore. He tries not to dwell on it. He doesn’t want to break the perfect little bubble they’ve found themselves in.

But Max senses this, the moment of hesitation. The alpha gives his side a gentle squeeze. “Lando, Seb, Pierre, Oscar… and maybe even Esteban?”

Charles lets out a sudden laugh.

“You’re surrounded by so much love, Charles.” Max says quietly. “These people — they care about you.”

And Charles knows that.

He might not have a direct family anymore, but he has found family. Chosen family. The kind that fights for you and beside you. The kind he didn't think he could ever have.

“I think Seb will be the hardest to win over.” Charles muses, his tone light in a way it hasn’t been in a long time.

“I thought Seb liked me.” Max replies with an exaggerated frown.

Charles giggles, remembering all the times Seb had told him off for letting Max into the medical hut. Even Lando had been more lenient.

“Seb is ridiculously protective. Good luck with him.”

Max rolls his eyes. “I’ll survive.” He follows the words with a quick kiss to Charles’ temple.

Charles feels a flicker of awe at how natural this all is — the hugs, the kisses, the closeness. Has this always been within reach?

“Don’t run from me again.” He says lightly, but the subtle warning is there. 

Because he doesn’t think he can take someone he loves pulling away again — not after this. Not after finally knowing how easy and right it could be.

Charles wakes with his head braced on a solid chest, warm in an embrace and a salty breeze scent all around him. 

Outside, the blizzard has softened into a quiet snowfall, the sky still dark with hours left before dawn.

He feels grounded. Protected.

Charles thinks — he thinks that maybe this is what Mamie had meant. 

That even though she asked Max to stay away, she knew that somehow if Max could overcome it, that he would — no, they would still find their way to each other.  

He lets his eyes fall shut again.

They find the moonfern quickly after the blizzard clears, its silver-tipped leaves sparkling faintly under the early morning light, half-buried beneath the freshly fallen snow.

Charles crouches beside the cluster, breath fogging the air as he carefully brushes the powdery layer aside. The plant is solid, resilient — a small miracle in of itself. That it survived the raging storm and is still intact.

“This is it.” He says, glancing up at Max triumphantly. “Fresh and untouched. We’re lucky.”

Max nods, a small smile stretching his lips. “You always know where to look.”

Charles smiles back as he begins to gently pluck the leaves, placing them into a small pouch lined with cotton so it doesn’t crush on the journey back home. “Mamie used to say moonfern only shows itself to those with good intentions.”

Max hums. “Then it makes sense it showed itself to you.”

Charles doesn’t answer right away, just tucks the last of the fern away and stands, brushing off his knees. 

“Your great sense of smell also helps.”

Max laughs. A genuine one. The corner of his eyes crinkle, his cheeks flushing, his lip-freckle stretches and —-  Charles can’t stop himself, he catches the alpha off guard by closing the distance between them to plant a tiny kiss on it. Revelling in the idea that he gets to do this now – that Max feels the same. 

The air is crisp and clean, the sky stretches in endless pale blue overhead, a sharp contrast to the crazy weather they’d experienced last night.

Charles wonders where Max and he would stand if not for the blizzard locking them away from the world and forcing them to talk.

Is he too much of a sap to think this was nature itself bringing them together?

There’s a strange peace in this moment — quiet, still, hopeful. Like the forest, the land is slowly beginning to breathe again. Like order is being restored again.

“Come on.” Max says, reaching to grab a hold of his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Running through the woods with Max hot on his heels is exhilarating in a way Charles has never quite been able to explain. But today — after everything, after the conversations, the kisses and the closeness they shared last night — it feels different. Deeper. Brighter. There's a buzz in his veins, a wild kind of joy that makes him want to throw his head back and howl to the sky.

His paws pound against the forest floor, leaving prints on the fresh blanket of snow. 

The trees blur past him and the cold morning air brushes through his fur, sharp and refreshing. He can feel Max behind him — not chasing, not hunting, but following. As if the alpha is choosing him, again and again.

Walking on foot became difficult given how little distance they were covering so shifting became the obvious choice with most of the path now cleared. 

He gives a little yip when the familiar scent of the pack grounds reaches his nose.

As much as Max and he huddled close last night and tried to light fires to stay warm, the cold had now settled into Charles’ bones and he couldn’t wait to get home and have a hot bath. 

Charles slows slightly, ears twitching, picking up the distant sounds of voices, laughter and firewood being chopped. Smoke curls lazily from the chimneys, the comforting hum of pack life growing stronger with every step.

He shifts just at the edge of the clearing, behind a large tree. Fur gives way to skin. A moment later, Max shifts too, chest heaving, hair mussed, a smile pulling at his lips.

Charles doesn’t feel shame at all with his nudity, standing proudly in front of the alpha. If anything he dares Max on.

The alpha’s burning gaze rakes past his bare shoulders, chest, stomach — down, down until —

“Eyes up here, Verstappen.” He quips.

Max jerks as if someone had slapped him. He rolls his eyes at the amused expression on Charles’ face before turning around fully to finish getting dressed. 

Once ready, they walk the last few steps side by side, barefoot on cold earth.

Charles looks ahead at the bustle of morning life — omegas hanging laundry just next to the lit fires, pups darting between huts, alphas preparing for their patrols — and feels that giddy bloom rise again in his chest.

For the first time in a long time, he doesn't feel like he's just surviving here.

He feels like he could belong. 

And when Max’s fingers brush his as they near the borders, Charles lets their hands tangle, intertwining and locking them together, however briefly. 

“I should probably wait before asking Lando’s permission. All his pregnancy hormones make him ten times more hostile.” Max grumbles as they pass the first few rows of huts and the alpha continues to say something — but Charles pauses. Freezes really. 

“What – what did you just say?” He asks. 

Max also stops. “That Lando hates me?”

“No.” Charles shakes his head. “You said Lando is pregnant —” 

“Isn’t he?” Max shrugs. “I could smell him.”

And huh. That makes sense actually. 

With all the depressive notes in Lando’s scent, Charles hadn’t been able to pick it up. He even chalked up the nausea and tiredness to mate withdrawal but now — now things clicked. 

“Oh my god Lando could be pregnant!” Charles practically gasps, eyes wide. “Shit! I don’t think he even knows.”

With that Charles walks just a little faster, pulling Max along from where their hands still remain connected.

He needs to do a proper checkup to confirm this first. Then he must make sure Lando is taking herbs to help grow the pup properly and his body is getting the right nutrients, god he didn’t even know how far along Lando is. What if it was further than he anticipated? What if —

“Stop Charlie.” Max says gently, tugging on his hand to slow him down. “I can tell you are spiraling. Lando will be fine.”

Charles only then realises how his breath picked up just slightly and how his palms were sweating.  So he tries to slow – tries to breathe. 

Yesterday had been great but now reality is kicking in. 

Ollie needs justice, Carlos will be back, Seb and Oscar are still missing and now — now Lando is pregnant?

“It’s just – a lot.” He says, a bit pathetically and at a loss for words. 

Max squeezes his hand. “It doesn’t have to be. We can go through this together.”

Charles wants to believe him, he really does but once they pass these borders Max will let his hand go and they pretend to be what? Friends? Acquaintances? 

But before he can respond, a familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Seriously!?” Comes the shrill voice of Lando, high-pitched and accusing.

Charles startles and instinctively drops Max’s hand, whipping around and taking in one angry omega. 

Hands on his hips, eyes darting glares at where their hands had just been intertwined. 

“Lando —” Charles starts but the words falter before they even come. He has no idea what to say.

“Don’t Lando me!” The omega huffs before turning to Max, pointing a finger to the alpha’s chest. “And you – I sent you to protect Charles, not —” He waves his hands around in the general direction of the two of them. “Not whatever this is!”

Charles steps up, decides to take one for the team and also because Max has gone pale, like he’s seen a ghost and not just a raging omega. 

He also not so subtly eyes Lando’s midsection, trying to gauge if there’s a bump and how far along he is. Weeks? Months? 

“Well?” Lando asks again. 

Charles snaps out of it and clears his throat. “We talked, Lando. “It’s okay now.”

Lando narrows his eyes. “Talk about what? And what is okay now?”

“Um. Everything? But also not everything. Like me and Max are okay but also not fully because there’s Ollie of course. But Ollie said he would break the courtship, though I don't know if he was serious about that. It could really take a hit to his reputation, not to mention we still need to figure out how to break the news to the council. Though, the council is suspiciously quiet, but then again I think they sent Laurent and Yuki to boot me out of the medical hut. But I just don’t understand why they are so obsessed with punishing me? And —” 

Charles trails off when he notices how Max and Lando are staring at him, with the former completely gaping and the other looking like they just had an aneurysm trying to keep up with everything Charles just spewed. 

But welcome to Charles’ brain. These days he could catch a break. But if there is one thing he is  sure about it’s this —

“Max explained everything, Lando.” Charles then looks to the alpha. “And he promised he won’t push me out again.”

Lando flicks his eyes back and forth, still looking a little overwhelmed. “You do understand the consequences of doing this now right?” He finally asks.

“You think I don’t know what’s at stake?” Max speaks up. “I haven’t forgotten. But protecting Charles doesn’t mean staying away from him. Pretending I don’t ache for him all the time. I’m going to stand beside him — really beside them, not just in the shadows — even when it’s messy. Even when it’s complicated, I want to stay.”

Lando’s mouth opens, like he’s going to argue, but the words don’t come.

“I’m not trying to hurt him.” Max adds, quieter now. “Everything I’ve done was so he could be safe.”

Charles blinks. The world seems to hold its breath.

Lando’s expression shifts slightly — not soft, not forgiving, but something contemplative, something uncertain.

“Fine.” Lando says eventually. “But if you screw this up, I swear—” He cuts himself off with a huff and turns on his heel but not before calling out — “Charles, you tell me everything!”

He stomps off, grumbling under his breath about “idiot alphas”, leaving Max and Charles standing in silence.

Charles lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, heart racing.

“Well.” He says slowly. “That went... better than expected?”

Max huffs a laugh but he doesn’t reach for his hand again. Charles doesn’t offer it either. Not yet.

But the alpha does look at him, soft and fond. “You can deal with the rest. I’ll see you later, yes?” 

Charles nods, the giddiness returning once again. “Yes.” He promises. 

Lando is — silent.

Which isn’t a cause for alarm. Not immediately. Some omegas react exactly like this when faced with the news of a pregnancy. Letting the silence allow them to process such big news.

Then a single tear slips down Lando’s cheek, which he wipes away quickly, sniffling. Still, it isn’t a cause for alarm. Pregnancy is big news — good news most of the time. A few happy tears are normal. Expected, even.

But then — Lando breaks.

The first sob tears out of him like it’s been locked inside too long, followed by another and another, until he’s crying openly. His shoulders shake, tears steadily streaming down his eyes. His breath comes in sharp, shallow pulls. He wraps his arms around his middle as if trying to hold something in — or hold himself together.

Charles steps forward without thinking, pulling the omega into his arms, heart hammering. 

These aren’t happy tears — no, Lando is crying as if everything is crashing down on him.

The first thing Charles had done when he returned to his was to store the moonfern away and then pull Lando aside to run a checkup. 

It was easy to confirm Max’s suspicions. Lando is in fact pregnant and is about five weeks in. 

The omega, bless him, was confused why Charles seemed so frazzled but let him poke and prod him as he wished. 

Charles agrees that the timing of this news could’ve been better — but alas he needed to tell the other omega. 

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Charles soothes, pressing his cheek to Lando’s hair as he releases a steady stream of calming pheromones, wrapping the other omega in a scent meant to steady him.

Lando hiccups, clutching at Charles like he might drown without him. “It—it’s just… Osc — should’ve —” He chokes on the words, sobs wracking his small frame. “Osc should’ve been here.”

“I know.” Charles coos, his heart breaking for Lando. “And he will be soon.”

Charles didn’t know that, of course he couldn’t guarantee it but the other omega needs comfort right now, not a reality check. So he’s willing to give a few white lies. 

Eventually the sobs ease, giving way to soft sniffles and shaky breaths. Lando leans more of his weight into Charles’ arms and the silence stretches out, quieter but not yet calm.

Then, in a small, wavering voice, Lando says. “Oscar’s always wanted a son.” He sniffles. “Said I was too much of a princess to allow another one into our home.” 

Charles lets out a small laugh at the random comment but he can see it — Lando’s clingy, dramatic and over the top but he is fiercely loyal and protective, and that’s exactly what would make him a great parent, regardless of their gender.

“I want a daughter though.” Lando admits. “Then we both get princess treatment.”

“I’m sure whoever it is, they are lucky to have you and Oscar as parents.” Charles whispers.

And he means every word he says. Lando and Oscar are stable as a couple, and seem to never run out of love for each other. 

It’s something Charles envies and looks fondly upon. 

Maybe he could have that one day — his own little family. A loving alpha. A few pups. Mops of blonde hair and green eyes. Or maybe their pups would be exact carbon copies of Max himself… 

A small smile tugs at his lips. 

Geri shows up at Charles’ doorstep that same evening, a carefully polite smile on her face as she extends an invitation for dinner at their home as a gesture of thank you for all his help with Ollie.

This dinner, while being under the pretence of showing gratitude seems just that — a pretence.

So it doesn’t exactly surprise Charles to see that Max is also invited. 

Charles pauses at the front door, trying to smother the wide smile threatening to take over his features. “You are invited too?”

Max nods. “They must have something to say.”

Charles tries not to hope but he does — it’s just who he is — but Christian had promised he’d take care of it so maybe they were all called to discuss that. 

He raps his knuckles against the door, waiting until Ollie opens it with a smile. 

“Hello, come in.” 

The house smells of rosemary, thyme and meat, warm broth and something subtly sweet — the kind of meal prepared with care. The table is already laid when they enter, fresh bread, soup, and roast. Geri ushers them in with her usual grace.

“Charles, Max — thank you for coming. Please, sit.”

Charles thanks her in return for the invite and settles into a seat. 

It’s not long before Christian joins them, stepping into the room from the hallway, his expression serious. 

He doesn't sit. Not yet.

“We appreciate you both being here.” He begins, gaze sweeping across the table, resting briefly on Ollie, then Charles, then Max. “There’s something important we need to share.”

Charles’ heart stutters and he sits a little straighter, understanding the seriousness of the moment. 

Christian folds his arms behind his back. “After everything that’s happened, Geri and I spent long nights talking about what’s best — not just for Ollie, but for our whole family.”

He glances at Ollie again, who nods slightly, expression unreadable.

“And we’ve decided… we’re leaving.”

Charles blinks. “Leaving?”

“Not forever.” Geri adds quickly. “But for now. For space. For peace.”

Christian continues, voice calm and certain. “We’ve made arrangements with the Hass village. They’ve agreed to let our whole family settle there, for as long as we need. It’s Geri’s hometown. It’s quiet, remote, and most importantly — it’s safe.”

Silence falls like a weighted blanket. Even Max looks stunned.

“The entire family?” Charles asks quietly.

“Yes.” Geri replies. “This pack has been our home for decades but it’s undeniable it’s changed. Maybe for the better — but for the worse if you ask me. Either way… we can’t ask Ollie to stay and fight for a place that won’t want to protect him. And we can’t let him go alone.”

Charles bristles. “You didn’t even fight!” He argues. “You didn’t even go to the council and tell them what happened!”

Christian stiffens at Charles’ words and Geri’s lips press into a thin line. The silence at the table stretches until Christian finally breaks it.

“We didn’t fight because we couldn’t , Charles.” He just about spits. “You think we didn’t want to storm into the council hall the second Ollie told us what happened? You think we didn’t want blood?”

Geri reaches for Christian’s hand, squeezing once.

“But that wouldn’t have helped him.” She says, resigned and downtrodden. “We’ve lived in this pack long enough to know how things work. Going to the council without hard proof wouldn’t have brought justice — it would’ve brought shame. Whispers. Suspicions. People asking what my son did to provoke it. You’ve seen it happen before. So have we.”

Charles bites the inside of his cheek, torn between understanding and fury.

“You’re right.” Christian admits. “We didn’t fight the way you wanted. But we chose to protect him in the only way we thought would work. I’m not going to stand there and let them humiliate my family, my son — so they could protect one of their own.”

And Charles understands — he really does but this is running away. It wouldn’t solve anything. 

“We need to at least try! Or else Carl —” Charles stops before he could speak the name. “ – He will be allowed back.”

“I wouldn’t worry about Sainz right now.” Christian says with an air that screams he knew more.

But before they could ask — Ollie finally speaks, voice soft. “It was my idea. I want to leave here.” 

Charles opens his mouth to protest — to say that they belong here, that it’s not fair for the victims to have to run — but the look on Ollie’s face stops him. There’s a serenity there. A tired acceptance, yes, but also a flicker of desperation. 

He can’t imagine walking around in fear in what he deems as home. 

“I know it’s not the justice we wanted.” Christian says. “But it’s what we can do. For now.”

“Hass is a good place.” Max says slowly. “It’s warm there. Their council’s more… progressive, from what I’ve heard.”

Christian nods. “Certainly. It’s a small but tight knit. Ollie will like it there.”

Charles feels the tightness in his chest spread — a mix of grief and relief and something he can’t yet name. He doesn’t want to say goodbye.

“Thank you.” Ollie says suddenly, glancing between them. “For staying. For helping. I wouldn’t be here without either of you.”

Charles reaches out instinctively, clasping his hand with Ollie’s 

If this is what Ollie had wanted then maybe he could find it in himself to accept it. 

Sometimes leaving is just as brave, if not more, than staying. 

They make light conversation while finishing up dinner — comments about the food, updates about how Ollie is progressing at the medical hut but also lamenting the fact that Charles won’t be able to teach him anymore.  

It’s light chatter – but the fragile peace is easily shattered once Ollie and Geri retreat to the kitchens to clean up and Christian specifically asks Max and Charles to stay behind.

The older alpha sets down his glass, the light leaving his eyes just slightly. He sighs heavily, shoulders tight with whatever burden he’s about to share. “The council knows about Sebastian and Oscar.”

Charles freezes, his spoon halfway to his mouth. Dread creeps in from the implications of such a statement. 

This is bad.

Max stiffens beside him, already halfway to panic. “W–what exactly do they know?”

Christian shakes his head. “Look, I don't know the full details. But they know the two of them went to Aston Martin to speak with Newey. What they found out, or if the council has them already? That’s something even I’m not privy to.”

Charles clenches his fists beneath the table, the taste of dinner turning to ash in his mouth. Max’s expression mirrors his — horror and confusion. 

“Do you know why Newey left?” Max manages to ask. 

Christian looks around, as if gauging for any spying ears. “Again, I don’t know the full details but Red Bull is planning something and it’s something that Newey doesn’t agree with.”

Charles tries not to panic. But it’s a hard thing. None of this is settling him in the slightest. 

“What could — you must have suspicions, no?” 

“I do.” Christian sighs. “We are hosting The Big Hunt after years, all the packs will gather here. I can only assume that it will be an ambush.”

“Ambush?” Max repeats, pale. “You don’t think —”

“Your father, Helmut, Sainz — they are power hungry fools. They will do anything and everything to expand and conquer. That has been their way of living. This is a big opportunity they cannot miss. All the pack alphas will gather at one place. It’s perfect really.”

Charles feels like the floor’s been ripped out from under him.

The Big Hunt — he hadn’t even given it a second thought when it was announced Red Bull were the hosts this year. 

It’s a traditional celebration of unity and survival. A gathering of alphas, betas and omegas from across the lands. It was meant to be a moment of friendly competition. Of strength in solidarity.

Not bloodshed.

Not a trap.

Red Bull could ambush, sure. But there could be retaliations. 

His stomach churns, his mind spinning through the implications, the risks, the danger that now coils around every single person he loves like a noose. 

“What will they do?” He whispers, voice gone thin with disbelief. “Can they force them into allegiance? If they don’t agree to whatever plan Red Bull has then —”

“They’ll be wiped out.” Max finishes grimly.

Charles swallows thickly, pulse pounding in his ears. His thoughts flash to Seb, to Oscar. To Ollie, who only just began to heal. To Lando, who’s carrying a child. To Max, whose father might be helping to orchestrate a massacre.

He grips the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles ache.

Max and Charles sit close, side-by-side, shoulders pressed together beneath thick furs, the heat of the fire providing no real warmth in light of everything they found out.

The alpha remains quiet beside him, staring into the flames like they might offer answers. Charles watches him instead, unable to look away.

Dinner finished over two hours ago now but the words from Christian still ring in his mind. 

Charles didn’t want to be alone after learning all of this so he asked Max to join him and now — here they were huddled in his nest in front of the fire, Lando sleeping soundly in just the other room.

He cannot help but realise how they are all such small pawn pieces stuck in a game. 

A game that the council is playing with their lives. 

Oscar and Seb were thrust into the centre of it without even a warning, without knowing how much is at stake. 

“Do you think Oscar and Seb are okay?” He finally finds his voice enough to ask. 

The news from Christian lodged a stone in his throat, one that made eating, drinking and even breathing hard. 

Lando is sleeping just in the other room, pregnant and unknowing to all of this. 

How would Charles even begin to tell him? What would he even tell him? If the council already knew, what would they do to Oscar and Seb? Or had they done something already?

“Charles —” Max begins slowly and Charles doesn’t like the tone of his voice, he already suspects Max is about to say something he doesn’t agree with. “I think – I think I should go to Aston Martin.”

Charles immediately scowls. “ Non! Absolutely not.” 

“Charles –”

He pulls away from Max completely, glaring at the alpha. “No! You will not. We will figure something out. What if Oscar and Seb just found out the plan and went to other packs to warn them?”

His theory makes sense. Oscar still has ties to McLaren, not to mention Lando’s entire family is there. Oscar would want to warn them, protect them. 

Max sighs. “That would be the best case scenario.”

“And we need to hold on to best-case scenarios right now, don’t we?” Charles says fiercely, digging his nails into his palms. “I can't — I won’t lose anyone else.”

Max’s face softens and for a moment, it seems like the alpha will agree with him, not argue.

But then he shifts beside Charles, turning slightly so their knees touch. “You know I wouldn’t go unless I thought it was necessary.”

Charles doesn’t look at him. “We already know what Newey knows. What would you even do there?”

“Trace Oscar and Seb’s steps.” 

“That won’t help!” Charles snaps, more sharply than he means to. He exhales hard, fingers twitching as if he can physically hold back Max. “You don’t get it Max. If the council knows then —”

Max runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but trying to remain calm. “And what if Oscar and Seb need someone to go after them? What if they need help?”

Charles finally meets his gaze, eyes glassy, his fingers trembling with fear. “Then, um. We can find someone else.”

“Who can we trust enough for this?” Max argues. “I can’t sit here and hope while they could be — ” He stops himself, jaw locking. “They’re not safe, Charles. None of us are.”

“I’m asking you not to sit here and do nothing.” Charles bites his bottom lip, his voice shaking. “Not because I don’t care but — you just came back to me .” He adds, a bit pathetically.

Max reaches for his hand gently, rubbing his thumb over Charles’ knuckles. “I don’t want to leave you. But I also don’t want to sit here and do nothing while people we love suffer. I can’t live with that either.”

Charles doesn’t pull away — but he doesn’t squeeze back either. He stares down at their joined hands, breaths coming out shallow. “I hate this.”

“I know.” Max murmurs.

For a moment, there’s only the crackle of the fire, the steady touch of Max’s thumb over his skin. Then Charles speaks again, more quietly this time.

“You think it’ll come to war, don’t you?”

Max hesitates — then nods once. “Potentially. There’s no way Red Bull is equipped to deal with so many wolves. The council knows this. They are ready for some bloodshed.”

Charles closes his eyes, imagining the last time he experienced it. Finds that he truly has no memory of it, no memory of Ferrari being raided and burned to the ground. It’s as if his mind blacked out those horrors.  

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

Silence again. A heavier one. They sit in it, side by side, Max’s hand still on Charles’, the fire casting flickering shadows against the walls. The stillness is loud and pressing. 

A loud knock pounds against the door. Once. Twice. Followed by the unmistakable sound of something — or someone — collapsing against it.

Charles jolts upright, not realising he’d fallen asleep near the fireplace with Max tucked into his side. 

There’s another sound now, weaker — a sound of someone groaning? 

Charles is the first to his feet, crossing the room while Max also stirs, sleepily mumbling “Who’s it?” 

He checks through the window first to see a shadowed figure with their head bowed, but something about them is familiar. 

His heart is hammering in his chest, adrenaline spiking hard and fast while the weak knocks continue. He finally flings the door open —

And gasps.

Seb is slumped against his doorway, barely conscious, blood trailing down the side of his face and soaking the front of his tunic. One eye is swollen shut and his breathing comes in sharp, painful wheezes.

“Seb?” He whispers, not believing his eyes. 

The other beta groans weakly and tries to walk, using the wall for support. 

There’s a limp in his stride, blood leaving a trail as the beta moves. He winces in pain after a step, dangerously tilting sideways. 

“Shit.” Max catches him before he hits the floor completely, hauling him up by the shoulders as Charles stares in horror.

“Seb!” Charles chokes out. “What — what happened!?”

Seb tries to speak, his mouth forming shapes that don’t quite become words. Then he coughs, spits blood and finally forces out —

“Oscar — he’s gone.”

Death wasn’t new to Charles.

He lost his parents when he was far too young to truly grieve them — too small to understand mourning. But he was just aware enough to feel the emptiness they left behind. A hollow space in his chest where love for his Maman and Papa should have lived.

Charles didn’t know them, but he did try to love them anyway with the memories his Mamie shared. 

And somehow, it was enough.

Charles didn’t grow up feeling sorrowful. He felt blessed.

Blessed to have Mamie — his guardian angel, the one who gave everything to raise him. The one who made sure he never felt the pain of being the only pup in their pack without parents. 

He loved her more than anything. She was his whole world.

But now —

Now she lies on a cot far too small, her thin and frail body wracked with coughs, her skin burning and pale by turns, her eyes fighting to stay open. 

Charles knew what was coming.

He had helplessly watched as life drained from her every single day for the past month. 

He couldn’t bear it anymore. 

He wasn’t strong enough for this. 

He couldn’t lose her. 

He couldn’t — 

But then her eyes closed — and this time, they didn't open.

Charles never wants to witness that again. Never wants someone he loves to leave him. 

He never wants to feel helpless as he watches the life of someone he cherishes slip away. 

He swore it wouldn’t come to that. 

And yet — 

Chapter Text

“Oscar — he’s gone.”

Seb barely manages to get the words out before going limp, collapsing into Max’s arms.

Charles forgets how to breathe. His lungs lock, panic curling tight in his chest. For a single, terrible moment, he thinks Seb also — until he sees the faint twitch of Seb’s fingers, the rise and fall of his chest.

Only then does air rush back into his lungs in a jagged gasp.

But the relief is only short-lived as Seb’s words replay in his head.

Gone.

Such a simple word. But it carries too much weight.

Gone where? Gone how?

Has Oscar left? Had they lost him somewhere on the journey? Has someone taken him — hurt him?

The possibilities slam into Charles all at once, a hundred awful what-ifs crawling into his mind. His stomach twisting, palms sweating. 

He looks to Max, but even the alpha — so often solid, unshakable — seems frozen. And Seb, trembling and pale in Max’s grip, doesn’t say anything else.

Charles swallows the rising dread. “Gone... what does he mean?” He desperately asks. 

But Max just shakes his head. “Charles, you need to help him first.”

His eyes drift from Max to the blood pooling on the floor, which finally kicks Charles into action, Seb is hurt. He needs to be treated and then — then Seb will confirm everything is okay. That Oscar’s just gone on a trip and will take time to return. 

Because he must return. For Lando. For their unborn pup. 

Charles goes to the other side of Seb and helps Max move him to the furs lined in front of the fireplace.

His hands move on instinct, rolling his sleeves up and out of the way. 

Seb is pale, bloodied, his breathing ragged and wheezing. Charles can spot multiple bloody spots on the beta’s clothing. 

He checks the beta’s pulse first – it’s faint but there. Seb’s still with them but barely. 

“I need clean warm water, cotton, my satchel and needle and thread.” Charles instructs, voice steady, even as his fingers tremble slightly. Max doesn’t hesitate — he disappears from the room to the back where he keeps some supplies. 

Charles peels back Seb’s soaked outer layers, revealing the deep gash running along his side, jagged and angry, blood still seeping from it in thick, fast rivulets. Charles swallows hard, but the panic clawing at his throat is shoved down — he can’t afford it. Not now.

The claw marks are as clear as day. Someone, or something had duck its claws into Seb and dragged, didn’t want to let go till it saw blood, till it got past muscle, bone. 

Charles feels sick just thinking about it. 

He holds one of his hands over it, futile but still trying to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. 

Seb is no doubt passed out from all the loss of blood. 

Max returns just then with the aforementioned supplies, his face paling at seeing the nasty gash. 

“Can you take over?” Charles instructs and waits till Max composes himself to take over before checking all the other areas which were bleeding.

Seb’s elbow is resting at an odd angle, a quick press around confirms to Charles that it’s most likely broken. 

Others seem like minor abrasions which is a welcome relief, it allows Charles to focus his attention on the claw marks on Seb’s side. 

Charles quickly cleans the edges of the gash, working slowly with the warm water and cotton to remove the crusted blood. The wound looks worse when cleaned, raw and red, with chunks of blood already frozen from the cool temperatures and warming with the pass of his cloth. 

“Thank god.” He murmurs more to himself than Max. “It’s deep, but it didn’t sever anything vital.”

Max nods silently, kneeling beside Seb with both hands firm over the compress on his side, blood already soaking through the first layer of cotton. His throat bobs as he swallows, and his jaw is tight with tension, but he keeps his focus on Seb’s prone form.

Charles uses some clove oil to numb the area and threads the needle, hands steady despite feeling like his lungs will collapse at any moment. Charles leans in closer, lips pressed into a thin line as he inspects the wound again.

“Keep him still.” Charles instructs and then he begins to stitch.

The needle pushes through the skin. Seb doesn’t stir — too far gone to feel anything, though a low groan escapes his lips and while haunting it does reassure Charles that Seb is conscious. 

Charles keeps going, each pull of the thread tightening the flesh together, sealing the skin closed. His hands remember the motion even when his mind races with everything that’s happening and everything that remains unsaid. 

Once the wound is sealed, he reaches into the satchel Max brought and pulls out a small leather pouch. Inside is a mixture of crushed herbs with healing properties. 

“This will help stop the bleeding and ward off infection.” Charles says more to keep his mind blank, sprinkling the powdered mixture over the stitches. The sharp scent of herbs rises in the air — masking the nauseating smell of blood. 

He takes another small jar, this one filled with a thick, amber-colored salve made of honey and calendula. He spreads it gently over the stitched wound, creating a seal to keep it clean and free from infections. 

Charles then reaches for fresh cotton strips. Max helps him lift Seb slightly and Charles wraps the bandages tight but not too tight, just enough to keep the wound protected.

He moves onto making a cast for Seb’s elbow and finishes by helping the beta take some soothing herbs to help him rest.

When he’s done, he sits back on his heels, breathing hard, the exhaustion of panic settling in now that the immediate crisis has passed.

“I will need to monitor him.” Charles says, looking on as Max gently lowers Seb down. The beta’s complexion is still pale, his lips tinged faintly blue. “If a fever doesn’t set in then he’ll be mostly out of danger. But I might need to get some blood for transfusion set up too —” He mutters, numbly. 

Seb was bleeding too much and wolves' claws have all sorts of bacteria, toxins and residue from whatever they’ve hunted or walked through that can make the wounds infected. 

Charles just hopes whatever got to Seb wouldn’t be detrimental. 

Max passes him a warm mug of water and Charles drinks without thinking, eyes still fixed on Seb. He lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Who did this to you, Seb?”

There’s no answer, just the soft crackle of the fire and the sound of rain beginning to patter softly against the window.

It’s still the middle of the night, well before the sun will begin to rise. Though Charles doesn’t understand how the sun can rise when Oscar’s de—

No. 

Charles pauses his thoughts before it even forms. 

He flicks his eyes up when he hears a soft thud — it’s Max. Collapsed on the floor, head in his hands. 

Charles doesn’t hesitate, he drops beside Max, prying the alpha’s arms open. 

His breath hitches at what he sees — blank, resignation.

“Seb will be okay.” Charles says, insists really. “And Oscar —”

Max takes a shuddering breath in. “I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking — I don’t know. Went with them.” 

“You couldn’t have known.” 

“I should’ve known though!” Max's voice raises and Charles hushes him urgently, still wary of Lando sleeping next door. Charles would rather the other omega wake up to concrete news about his mate than the vague words from an injured Seb.

“Calm down.” He soothes. “Let’s just wait until Seb wakes up and he can explain?”

His words have the opposite effect as Max’s breathing picks up, his scent going haywire, burning thunderstorm. 

“Max…” He whispers helplessly. “Breathe... please.”

Max just shakes his head. “Fuc–”

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Charles murmurs, steady as he can manage, pushing his own scent into the space between them — warm, grounding, soothing in a way that Charles doesn’t know how he’s managing to let out when his whole being is also filled with panic. 

But Charles knows this — he’s never seen Max like this. Not unraveling. Not broken open and bare like this. Hurtling towards a panic attack.

Charles’ inner omega only knows that they must remain strong for both Max and he.

In a last attempt to bring the alpha back, Charles wraps his hands around Max and pulls him against his chest. 

It’s hard — but Charles tries to slow his own heartbeat so Max can feel it, pressed against his chest so the alpha can match it. 

Eventually the ragged breathing slows to heaving, gentle breaths. 

Max slumps against him as Charles struggles to hold the weight of the alpha, the weight of everything crashing down on him. 

Seb wouldn’t have used that word — gone — if it isn’t to describe permanency. 

Charles has never hated a word more.

It’s several more hours before Seb finally stirs. In the meantime, Charles and Max sit in heavy silence — too anxious to sleep, too nervous to make conversation. The silence has never felt this oppressing, it wraps around them like a noose around the neck.

At one point, Charles had crept into the bedroom to check on Lando. The omega lay peacefully asleep, his face smooth, untroubled — blissfully unaware. Charles had stood there for a long moment, staring. How could he ever tell him? Could he even tell him?

When Seb finally shifts and lets out a groan, Charles is on his feet in an instant.

“Seb? Hey.” He murmurs, rushing to his side. He places a hand on Seb’s forehead—warm, but not burning, no fever. “How are you feeling? Do you know where you are?”

Seb blinks slowly, disoriented. His eyes scan the room, recognition slow to follow.

And then, suddenly, a tear escapes down his cheek.

The sound Charles makes is soft and wounded, barely a breath. “Seb?”

“W–water.” Seb rasps.

Max is already moving, handing over a cup and helping Seb sit up. Charles supports his back as Seb takes a few careful sips. He coughs after the second, but they coax a few more down before he leans back, weak and trembling.

Only when Seb seems stable enough, Charles shares a hesitant glance with Max. He opens his mouth, ready to ask the question that none of them want to voice — but the question has been plaguing his mind and Charles hasn’t felt like he’s been able to take a proper breath since – since leaving Christian’s house. 

He clears his throat – ready but Seb’s already opening his mouth.

“Twenty.” He croaks, then swallows hard, wincing as he clutches his side. “Maybe more. Rogues. They ambushed us.”

His voice breaks again. “Oscar didn’t run. He… he told me to go. To get help. He stayed behind to hold them off, but…”

“So he could still be alive.” Max cuts in quickly, grasping at the threads of hope. “He — maybe Oscar ran too. Maybe he escaped.”

Seb shakes his head, another tear slipping free.

“I went back.” The beta whispers. “He wasn’t breathing. I — I saw him.”

If it were anyone else, Charles wouldn’t believe it. He’d need to see for himself. But this is Seb. A Healer. One of the best.

“Are you… sure?” Max asks eventually, voice small.

Seb doesn’t speak. He just nods — once, sharply.

Undeniable. 

“Oh – uh – when? Is he…?” Max asks shakily. 

The words barely made sense but Charles himself is barely able to string a sentence together.

Charles feels hollow. Useless. He wants to move, to act, to do something.

Even a trained Healer like Seb might have missed something — shock, trauma, survival instinct were all running through the beta’s mind, so he could’ve been wrong. Maybe if they left now, maybe if they moved fast, maybe—

“Do you know where his body is?”

The voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

All three of them turn toward the source, startled.

Lando stands in the bedroom doorway, silent. His face is unreadable. Emotionless. Blank in a way Charles has never seen before.

Of all of them, Lando should be the most shattered. But somehow, right now, he looks the most composed. And that’s what scares Charles the most.

Lando is vibrant, he’s expressive, he wears his heart on his sleeve, but this — emptiness told Charles how much the other omega is hurting.

“Lando…” Charles says softly, but the other omega doesn’t even glance his way.

Instead, Lando says, calm and even: “His body? I should give him a proper burial.”

Seb swallows, voice barely above a whisper. “Just outside the northern border. Past the creek.”

“Okay.”

And then Lando retreats back into the room.

Stunned silence follows in his wake.

“He —” Charles begins, voice tight.

“He’s not okay.” Max cuts in, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the doorway. “Not at all. You should go talk to him.”

Charles nods and takes a step toward the hallway, but before he can make it far, Lando reappears — this time fully dressed.

Furs layered thick over his frame, scarf wrapped high on his neck, beanie pulled down low over his ears. He doesn’t speak as he walks straight to the front door and pulls it open.

“Wait!” Charles calls after him, startled. “Lando w-where are you going?”

Lando pauses only for a second. “Oscar’s been waiting long enough.” He says simply, and steps outside into the cold.

“Shit.” Max curses, already moving after him.

Charles casts one final glance back at Seb, who gives a weak but steady nod. It’s enough.

Charles bolts after them, heart hammering, fear clinging like frost to his skin. He doesn’t know what they’ll find. Doesn’t know what’s waiting past that creek. But if Lando’s going, they can’t let him face it alone.

It’s almost surreal how this morning can look so calm while everything inside him is breaking.

The snow is frozen across the ground in a thick, undisturbed blanket. Pure and white.

The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow that glitters against the frost, making the entire forest shimmer like a thousand diamonds.

It should be beautiful. It is beautiful. But it’s also the worst day of his life.

And then — Oscar.

He’s there.

In his wolf form.

At first glance, it looks peaceful. He’s curled on his side beneath the trees, as if he’s simply sleeping, tucked into the snow for warmth. The early morning light bathes him in gold, the orange of his fur warm and glowing. It’s giving the illusion of rest. Serenity.

But it’s not.

Because Oscar isn’t moving at all. No steady rise and falls. 

Because behind him, stark and vivid against the clean white snow, is a pool of red — crimson and cruel.

Not sleep.

Not peace.

Just the stillness of death.

Charles drops to his knees.

His legs give out without warning, the weight of what he’s seeing is too much to bear. 

A few metres away, Lando does the same, crumpling to the ground in absolute silence. But only for a second.

Then —

A scream rips through the quiet morning.

Raw. Piercing. Inhuman in its grief.

It cuts through the trees, echoing across the snowy clearing, shattering whatever fake calm the sunrise had brought with it. The scream gives way to sobs — deep, gut wrenching sobs that claw their way out of Lando’s chest like they’re trying to rip him apart from the inside.

Charles is also crying before he even realises it.

He wouldn’t need to know who or what Lando is crying for. Wouldn’t need to know Oscar’s name or who that limp body belongs to. The sound alone — the pain tinged into every cry, it would’ve been enough to bring tears to his own eyes.

But Charles does know. And that makes it so much worse.

He crawls forward slowly through the snow, not trusting himself to get back on his feet. Each movement is heavy, like wading through grief itself. 

Lando’s clutching to Oscar’s prone form for dear life, shaking, shouting, willing the alpha to come back to life.

Charles doesn’t know what to say — what could he say? There’s nothing left that words could fix. Nothing that could bring Oscar back.

Because Charles could tell now. 

The scent of a decaying body — faint but undeniable. 

Oscar is gone. Dead.

Still he extends a shaky hand to check for a pulse, a movement but there was — nothing.

He sits beside Lando in the snow, doesn’t reach out to the other omega, doesn’t offer a shoulder to cry on — he isn’t sure Lando would appreciate that. 

Charles knows this from his own experience when his grandmother passed. The last thing he needed was someone’s touch when he wanted to rip his own skin off, when the grief felt too big to contain in his too small body.

When the thought of never seeing the other’s eyes, their smile, hearing their voice, feeling their touch — it’s all encompassing and overwhelming that any other presence would’ve sent him over the edge.

And because sometimes crying is the only outlet. 

Because sometimes the only thing left to do is grieve.

It could’ve been minutes. Or hours. Charles has no concept of time anymore.

Time lost all meaning the moment they found Oscar.

Eventually, Lando’s sobs subside — tapering into uneven breaths and soft sniffles, the kind that comes from exhaustion more than anything. Like Lando couldn’t physically cry anymore even if he wants to.

The other omega’s body still trembles, shoulders hitching as he pulls in air like it’s difficult just to keep breathing.

When he finally lifts his head, it’s not Charles he looks at — but Max.

The alpha is still kneeling across from them, motionless, snow clinging to his sleeves, his eyes red-rimmed and dazed.

“I felt it.” Lando whispers.

His voice is hoarse and ragged, barely more than a breath.

Max blinks, brows drawing together in confusion.

“It’s an alpha thing, no?” Lando says, cracking around the edges. “Osc… he told me. Through our bond. I could feel him. Told me he was — s-sorry.”

Max’s face crumples. One of utter devastation.

“Y-yeah.” He murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “We — we can do that.”

Lando nods faintly, as if that confirmation hurts more than the question itself. Then he turns his gaze to Charles.

And Charles — he sees it now, fully. The dimmed sea-green of Lando’s eyes, once so bright. The complete absence of light in them. Bloodshot. Swollen. Empty. His face is pale, too pale, lips trembling not from the cold but from something within — something deeper. 

“Do… do you think he felt it too?” Lando asks, and the fragility in his voice shatters something in Charles. “Do you think he knew about the pup?”

His hand moves instinctively to cradle his stomach, fingers splayed as if trying to protect something.

Charles lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a sob and a gasp and covers his face with both hands, unable to face Lando. 

He doesn’t answer — he can’t . His chest feels too tight. 

Because he doesn’t know what’s worse.  The idea that Oscar died never knowing, or that he did and still had to leave his little family behind.

“Unfair.” Lando whispers then. “Th — this is so unfair, Charles.”

The words bring a fresh wave of tears.

By the time the sun has climbed to its highest point in the sky, a small crowd has begun to gather.

Word spreads quickly in a pack — sorrow clings to the air like smoke, drawing their pack members in whether they mean to intrude or not. They begin hovering at the edge of the clearing, sensing something has gone terribly wrong. Their words hushed, prodding.

Ollie is one of the first to break through. He rushes to Charles’ side and drops to his knees, his voice cracking.

“W–what happened?” He asks, eyes wide with panic, tears clinging to his lashes.

It’s a rhetorical question so Charles doesn’t bother to answer — Ollie can see himself. 

Across the clearing, Max stands tall, a silent wall between the crowd and Lando. Anyone who steps too close is met with a low, warning growl. His posture is protective and blocking the prying eyes from the vulnerable form of the omega and his passed mate.

Lando is still hunched over Oscar’s body, unmoving. He hasn’t let anyone near. Not even Charles.

Eventually, a few council members arrive, sweeping into the crowd with their false solemnity and clipped, rehearsed words.

“How unfortunate.” One of them dares to say.

“Truly.” Another pipes up with a sigh. “He was so young.”

“We’ll inform the Elders.” A third adds. “Begin preparations for the burial —”

“NO!”

Lando’s voice cuts through the chatter, silencing everyone.

For the first time since that morning, Charles sees something on the other omega’s face besides sorrow.

Rage. Absolute, pure and unadulterated anger. 

His eyes blaze as he lifts his head, the grief still there, but now consumed by fire.

“Don’t you dare.” Lando snarls, his voice low and dangerous. “He’s not staying here. I’m taking him away from this fucking filth of a pack.”

The words land like a slap.

Everyone freezes.

Silence ripples through the crowd like a shockwave. Even Max flinches, eyes widening in surprise. Charles doesn’t move, heart pounding as he watches Lando, who now looks like a wolf out for blood. 

“He did so much — so fucking much! And this is what he gets in return!” Lando screams, raw and guttural. “This pack didn’t deserve him!”

“I understand your grief –” Another voice cuts through. The crowd naturally parting way for their Head Alpha. 

Jos stands there, impassive and unflinching in front of the snarling omega. 

“But insinuating the pack had something to do with it or bad mouthing us, is equivalent to treason.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the gathered wolves.

Lando doesn’t flinch.

Instead he bares his teeth .

A collective inhale passes through the crowd. Even Charles startles, his breath catching in his throat. He’s never seen or heard of anything like this. 

A pack member, an omega , snarling at their Head Alpha. Challenging him outright.

“Don’t you for a second think you are fooling me! Rogues in a group of twenty? Do you think me an imbecile?” Lando bites back. “I will prove it! I will get him justice b–but until then he deserves to be with his own. I’m taking him back to Mclaren!”

Jos’s face remains unreadable. “As you wish. But don’t expect help for us. Good luck carrying a dead body across the woods in this winter by yourself.” 

Dead body.

One of their supposed own was tragically killed and instead of trying to find the culprit, help the grieving, pregnant omega – here Jos is, declaring Lando fend for himself. 

Charles has seen Jos’s cruelty. He’s endured it. But this? This is beyond even that.

And then—

“I’ll help you, Lando.”

Max’s voice rings out, firm and certain.

Heads turn.

Even Lando blinks, startled.

Max steps forward, shoulders squared. His eyes lock with his fathers, full of something dangerously close to defiance.

“He’s not doing this alone.”

For a moment, the clearing holds its breath.

Then Charles finds his voice.

“So will I.”

“Me too.” Ollie also stands.

It isn’t much. 

But three people to help carry Oscar back to his true home is enough.

It has to be. 

Jos scoffs once but doesn’t otherwise remain to say more.

With the intimidating presence finally gone, Charles finally looks to Lando. 

Looks to the shell of the person he’s reduced to. 

“You’re not alone in this Lando.” Charles reaffirms, a futile attempt but one he extends either way. 

In the end, it’s decided only Max will accompany Lando to McLaren. 

Ollie is still regulating his heat cycles and with that comes surprise heats and lethargy, meanwhile Charles needs to help nurse Seb back to full health. 

So far the council doesn’t seem to know the beta is taking refuge in his hut and it’s important for Seb to be okay to get his full recount on what exactly went down.

And then — then they’ll be able to prove Oscar’s injustice. 

The evening of departure is quiet. The wagon is packed, simple and bare. Oscar’s wrapped carefully in layers of fur, secured gently in the back. Lando stands beside it, unreadable, one hand resting on the edge as if protecting his mate even now.

Charles approaches slowly. His chest tightens with every step.

“Take care of yourself, Lando.” He says, trying and failing, to keep his voice steady. The goodbye chokes in his throat. “And your pup. Please.”

Lando turns, his face softer now despite the grief still clinging to him like a second skin. He nods once, then steps forward and wraps his arms around Charles.

“I will.” He promises quietly.

Lando pulls back just slightly, enough to meet Charles’ eyes, leaning in. “Leave this place if you can.” He whispers.

The words are barely spoken, so soft they almost don’t register. A quiet whisper against Charles’ ear, meant for him and him alone. Max, standing a few paces away, doesn’t seem to hear.

Charles doesn’t reply. Can’t. The lump in his throat makes it impossible.

All he can do is nod.

And then Lando climbs up into the wagon, his movements heavy and hollow.

Max gives Charles a long look and Charles tries to convey everything he can with his eyes alone. 

“Take care of them.”

“Take care of yourself.”

“I love you…”

The wagon begins to move with Max walking off. 

Charles stands there, heart in his throat, watching as it pulls away through the snow-dusted roads. Watching until they disappear behind the bend, two silhouettes vanishing into the evening air.

He stays until the stillness returns, until his thoughts are the only thing he can hear. 

Charles doesn’t understand the cruelness of life. 

Of giving you something, letting you hope and then ripping it away from you. 

Like Lando said, it was unfair. 

Oscar had a life here. With Lando. With their unborn pup, who would now grow up with only one parent.

And Charles can’t do anything to help. He couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. 

He’s useless. It’s a hard pill to swallow. 

He turns back to his hut and tries to breathe through the grief. 

Charles first met Oscar when the other had just moved to Red Bull.

He remembers it vividly — a late autumn day, clouds hanging low, with a promise of rain to come soon after, giving their playtime an early end. Oscar had stood just inside the pack’s borders, flanked by his father, a bag far too big for his tiny frame slung over one shoulder. 

Charles had been there with Max and a few other pups kicking a ball around. 

They had all stopped and stared.

Oscar looked out of place among the rest of them who’d grown up in Red Bull territory. Scrawny. All knobby elbows and oversized eyes. Pale skin that pinked too quickly in the cold, thin lips pressed into a tight, defiant line.

He was cute, in that helpless, adorable cub kind of way — but it didn’t take long for Charles to learn that Oscar was definitely more bite than bark.

The first time they played together, Oscar quite literally bit someone.

A larger pup had knocked him down during a mock spar, and before anyone could intervene, Oscar had snapped. Sank his teeth straight into the other boy’s arm.

Charles had been stunned at first. Most new to the territory would be shy, uncertain, timid. But Oscar? Oscar hadn’t even apologised, just made sure that no other pups would bully him for being an outsider.

Charles had admired that about the younger one. 

He had marched into Red Bull like he belonged there — he was quiet but his actions always spoke for itself. 

Oscar was smart and spoke his mind no matter who stood in his way.

Oscar was younger than them but he kept asking to hang out with them, invited himself to their playdates and they were all too scared at first to refuse him.

Charles thought he resembled that of an Iceman, just uncaring and unemotional but then —

Then Oscar would speak about Lando.

About his friend back home whom he missed dearly. 

His voice softened when he said Lando’s name, just slightly — like even thinking about him brought warmth to a part of him no one else could touch. His lips would twitch, almost unconsciously, into the ghost of a smile. That quickly morphed into a full-blown grin as Oscar spoke more.

That guarded posture would ease, like he didn’t have to hold up the walls quite so high when Lando was the subject of their current discussion.

Charles had learned everything about a brunet curly haired pup, with tan skin and sea-green eyes before he’d even met the said pup. 

He learned Lando loved sweets and hated anything seafood related. He learned Lando was clumsy but he was fierce. 

He learned everything without ever wanting to know but he appreciated Oscar opening up to him.

Even Max, who was possessive over Charles’ company would welcome Oscar in, invite him to play and Charles knew — he knew even back then they were pups that Max never saw Oscar as a threat.

Oscar only ever had eyes for Lando and it would just be a matter of time before they got together.

Charles had even questioned once, if Lando would even remember Oscar – that was probably the most angry he’d ever seen the other. 

“Of course.” He spat. “I will be an alpha and he will be mine.”

Oscar had declared with every ounce of seriousness a six-year old could possess and Charles, only a few years older, nodded gravely and believed every word.

And when Charles had met Lando a few years ago — 

It all made sense to him.

Charles wondered if this was what true mates meant. 

He witnessed their mating ceremony, a simple affair with a few close family and friends. 

The Head Alpha hadn’t come to bless it, for Oscar was mating outside the pack but none of that mattered.

Because Oscar’s and Lando’s happiness had overshadowed everything.

The omega was beautiful that day. Glowing with a certain beauty that only one could get when bonding with the love of their life. 

Charles had been happy for them.

He had.

But beneath the happiness was something smaller, quieter — a hollow ache in his chest he hadn’t wanted to name.

Envy.

He remembered standing beside Max, their hands brushing but never quite linking and wondering if that was what their future would’ve looked like if Max hadn’t pulled away from him.

But regardless, Charles had wanted something like this for himself. 

A ceremony, blessed by those who mattered to them, with the person he loved right next to him.

He didn’t know then.

Didn’t know how cruel fate would be. How quickly something so bright could be extinguished. 

How love, no matter how true, could have its own hurdles. 

How love can’t keep death at bay.

The medical hut is nearly unrecognisable.

Charles hadn’t even been gone long — barely five days. Just enough to keep a steady watch on Seb’s condition, make sure the worst had passed, helping with packing Lando and Oscar’s hut, or what used to be their hut.

He expects to return to the quiet, familiar scent of crushed herbs and old wood, the low shelves arranged just the way he likes. He expects to return to the familiar comfort of a place that’s always been his second home. 

But the moment he steps through the threshold, a wave of unease hits him.

Everything is out of place.

The long worktable at the back is gone, replaced by two smaller ones pushed against the opposite walls. 

New, unfamiliar cloths cover the cots, his fun patterned sheets replaced with plain white sheets.

The plants he keeps dotted around to help the freshness, keep the place more alive are also all gone. 

Even the air smells different. Less herbal, more like… something sterile and cold. Too clean. Too curated.

He walks in deeper, to the back, to see several of the herb jars have been rearranged and some of the rarer ones — ones Charles kept hidden in the back to avoid unnecessary use — are now at the forefront, easily accessible. 

The most jarring of them all — the back room. The one meant only for omegas, with its softer lighting, tucked-away cots, lots of furs for nesting, a safe space Charles had carefully kept quieter, warmer, more private — is gone. The partition has been torn down, the beds stripped away, the shelves completely cleared.

Omegas of not only this pack but neighbouring packs had used that space as a refuge, a form of escapism. A safe space and now — 

It was gone. 

“What the hell happened here?” He mutters under his breath.

A rustling sound draws his attention to the back where Laurent emerges, sleeves rolled and a clipboard in hand, a pen between his fingers. He walks around to Charles like he owns this place.

“Oh, you’re back.” Laurent says, not bothering to hide the faint disapproval in his tone. “Didn’t expect you so soon.”

“This is our medical hut.” Charles says sharply. “I was gone for a few days. Who told you to change things?”

“I got the okay from the council once I suggested some changes.” Laurent simply shrugs. “There was a lack of proper workflow. I’ve introduced a new rotation system for sorting herbs and a revised filing method for patient logs. Much more efficient.”

“Efficient?” Charles echoes, barely keeping his voice steady. “I can already see mislabeled jars! marigolds and calendula should not be placed next to each other! They look too similar and one is much more potent than the other. Are you trying to cause misuse of herbs!?”

Laurent raises a brow. “It’s still a work-in-progress. I welcome some constructive criticism.” 

Welcome?

Why the fuck would Laurent be welcoming anything!? This was his space, Laurent didn’t fucking own this!

Charles steps forward.

“What the pack deserves is someone who knows what they’re doing. This place isn’t some neat little project for you. Now, tell me why the omega ward has been removed?”

Laurent sighs, his tone clipped. “Special treatment only enocurages division. We’re trying to move past all that. Omegas don’t need their own space — they need to adapt and be able to stay with others.

Charles’ jaw tightens. “Adapt? By stripping away the only place they had to feel safe? You think that’s progress?”

Laurent doesn’t flinch. “Equality means everyone is treated the same.”

“No.” Charles says, voice low and cutting. “Equality means recognising what people need to be treated the same and who needs to be treated with more care. That room is used for omegas who don’t have a space to spend their heats, it’s for omegas who have just given birth. It’s a safe space .” Charles reiterates. 

He takes another step forward, barely keeping his anger in check. “You cannot walk in here and make changes as you please. This medical hut has a system and it works. You cannot just change things without me or Seb here. It’s disrespectful —”

“Take it up with the council Charles, I’m also just following orders.” Laurent dismisses and walks away. 

Charles moves to follow, the heat in his chest rising fast — fury, disbelief, helplessness all colliding — when a hand closes around his elbow.

He spins around, words on the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out — but it’s just Yuki.

The other beta looks grim, eyes lowered slightly. “Laurent fired Esteban yesterday.”

Which —

“What!?” Charles hisses.

Yuki gives a small nod. “Said he wasn’t qualified and needed too much supervision.”

Charles stares, stunned for a moment. Esteban had been a healer longer than Laurent had even been in Red Bull. He worked slowly, sure, but he was meticulous and helpful. He cared.

“They’re dismantling the entire system.” Charles mutters, more to himself than anyone else. “They just — they want to erase everything.”

It’s too much for him —

He came back to the medical hut in hopes of having some familiar comfort wash over him, to be lost in the familiarity of taking care of others. 

A place where he could numb his thoughts and let his hands do the work. 

A place where he didn’t spend hours regretting sending Oscar to his death, crying so much his whole body felt wrung dry, contemplating whether he should’ve gone after Lando, worrying over Seb’s still weak form and worrying some more about how everything might be his fault — 

And now — this. 

He can’t do this.

“I — I just. Just want things to go back to how they were before.” He whispers brokenly.

It’s quiet. Choked. Like the words don’t want to leave, like they’re afraid of what comes after.

But it’s the only thing he knows how to say right now.

“I can’t do this.” Charles looks up at the other. 

Yuki’s wide eyes are the only thing he can see — wide with shock but there’s some faint understanding there. 

The other beta can probably sense that Charles wasn’t just talking about the changes at the medical hut. 

There were so many things changing. But all for the worst. 

Charles swallows, his throat burning. “I came back thinking —” He shakes his head, refusing to utter the words.

He was stupid to think that plunging into duties would help keep the grief at bay. So stupid. So foolish. 

“I lost a friend.” He says helplessly. Not caring that Yuki and him don’t know each other well enough. 

Yuki doesn’t say anything right away, just watches him, like he knows Charles still has more to say. 

“He was killed.” Charles adds. “Brutally — I couldn’t even —”

The silence stretches again, broken only when Yuki steps forward, voice gentle. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Charles exhales shakily, a hand dragging down his face. “He has a mate. A mate who is pregnant. I — isn’t that so cruel?” 

“Oh I — yes. That is cruel.” Yuki sympthasises. 

He doesn’t know why Charles is saying any of this.

Yuki probably doesn’t even care, but Charles just wants to tell someone. Anyone. 

He wants to know how Lando is doing. He wants to be there for his friend who had been there for Charles all this time. But then he wants to take care of Seb too, ensuring the beta can be fully healthy. He wants to help Lando get justice, he wants to track down those supposed “rogues” and make them pay. He wants Max’s arms around him as he cries. He wants —

“Charles.” Yuki gently speaks, getting him out of his spiraling thoughts. “You shouldn’t be here right now. Not when… something this tragic happened. You should rest. Grieve in peace.” 

Charles nods, reluctantly. “Yeah… I — Was Esteban okay?”

Yuki presses his lips into a thin line. “He took it better than I expected. Said the medical hut didn’t feel the same without you or Sebastian anyway.”

It isn’t much but the thought of someone who worked alongside him uttered those words brings a small warmth to his chest. 

Charles eventually trudges back to his hut after picking up some rations and wandering aimlessly through the thinning snow, hoping the icy cold air might clear his head. It doesn’t. His boots are soaked, heavy with melted snow and yet his heart feels heavier still, weighed down by grief, guilt, and too many unanswered questions.

Could he truly keep working at the medical hut like this? Is he even allowed to anymore? It seems like a scheme is taking place to shove Charles out, maybe Seb too. The council wants to take back control. But Charles doesn’t understand why — why now?

He exhales slowly as he pushes the door to his little hut open, the familiar creak of its hinges the only thing that feels the same anymore.

The room is dim, lit only by the soft flicker of the lantern hanging near the window. Seb lies awake, tucked under thick layers of fur, his chest rising and falling in a shallow but steady rhythm. The bruises along his jaw are a dark purple now and the cotton wrapped along his ribs are tinged faintly pink, while his arm remains in a cast, but it’s better than before — better than lifeless.

Ollie glances up immediately at Charles’ presence, a faint smile on his face.

“He woke up just before.” Ollie says after a moment, voice low and quiet. “Ate a few bits of food and drank some water too.”

Charles smiles back, relieved. He sets down the satchel still slung over his shoulder and makes his way over.

Today is the first time he’s seen Seb like this since the beta collapsed at his doorstep. Coherent enough to hold eye-contact, so he chances himself into finally getting answers. 

“How are you feeling Seb?” He asks first and foremost. 

“Better.”

Charles nods, checking his temperature. Still warm, but not dangerously so. “No fever.” He murmurs. “That’s good.”

“Thanks to you.” Seb replies, sincere. His dull blue eyes meet Charles’, gratitude flickering in them.

Before Charles can say more, Ollie stands and begins brushing the wrinkles from his sleeves.

“I probably should go.” He says. “Still need to pack the last of my things.”

Charles blinks at him in surprise before recalling the conversation they’d had earlier. Ollie and his family — leaving the pack.

“When do you leave?” He asks, gently tucking Seb’s wrist beneath the furs again.

“In two days.” Ollie replies with an apologetic smile. “I wish I could’ve stayed longer but—”

Charles waves him off before the other omega can continue. “You’ve already done more than enough. Really.”

Ollie doesn’t look convinced. His brows pinch slightly as he sits back. “I want to help, Charles. I really do. But my father’s growing impatient. The closer we get to the Big Hunt, the more... restless he becomes.”

Seb stiffens at the mention of the Big Hunt, exhaling sharply. “Shit! When — what day is it?”

“Three days out from the full moon.” Ollie replies, his eyes flickering back and forth sensing something is wrong. 

Charles presses his lips into a thin line. He hadn’t let himself think about it — not with Oscar’s death, Seb still unconscious, Max away, and now the medical hut upended beneath Laurent’s command. 

But he should have been thinking about it. If what Christian warned is even half-true, if Oscar and Seb were targeted for this reason alone, then this Big Hunt might not just be a tradition this year — it might be a cover for something else entirely.

Innocent lives could be harmed so he should warn someone, tell them to spread the message so it reaches the other packs and keeps them away or at least prepares them. 

But before that —

“Seb, what did you and Oscar learn at Aston Martin?”

Seb casts his eyes down, suddenly looking like he’s aged. “Just — Adrian defected because he couldn’t stand for the schemings of the council anymore. Red Bull is preparing something big. A huge trap if you will, to corner the other packs. Make them submit.” He flicks his eyes up to Charles then, something grim in his expression. “They were planning to use you as bait.”

Charles shucks in a harsh breath, while he gets confirmation that Christian was telling the truth, he doesn’t understand how he, himself plays into this. “Me — what? How?” He stutters out. 

“Your ties to Lando and Pierre, I suppose.” Seb begins. “It’s not much but it would’ve helped the council when it came to bargaining with Alpine and Mclaren.” 

Charles thinks of his bond with Pierre and Lando. They are his best friends, par Max. He still doesn’t understand how that relationship could have been exploited. 

“Think about it Charles –” Seb continues before Charles can ask the question. “You were framed and asked to report to the council. If it weren’t for Max coming in and exposing Carlos then who knows what the council would’ve done to you. You could’ve been imprisoned probably, then it would’ve been easy for the council to bargain with Alpine or Mclaren, tell them you’d be free if they did their bidding. You would’ve had Lando and Pierre advocating for you.”

Charles still isn’t convinced. There was no way two packs would’ve come for his rescue at their own costs. It made no sense. 

But then —

“Kika is Alpine’s Head Alpha’s daughter, Lando’s father is part of the Mclaren council. You may not see it but you have connections per say and it would’ve been worth a shot in Red Bull’s mind to use you.”

Charles pauses — considers it. Like Seb said, it really doesn’t seem like much but then again the whole doubt was planted in his mind because it seemed suspicious that the council went to such great lengths to bring him to his knees and make him submit… could this really be it?

“Plus it would’ve gotten you off of Red Bull’s back.” Seb adds, a bit more quietly. “Jos has privately admitted that he was apparently afraid you were seducing Max –” The other beta rolls his eyes at this. “— How fucking ridiculous. But it's a win-win for them. They get rid of you, and in return Alpine and/or McLaren would’ve become their allies.”

Charles thinks about it. The loyalty of his friends, how they always had his back — fiercely protective over him. Charles is the same. Pierre, Lando – they weren’t just his friends, they were his family. So maybe, just maybe there is some truth to what Seb is saying. 

He squares his shoulders back and takes a gasping breath in. “All the more reason why they shouldn’t come to the Big Hunt.” Charles looks to Seb then, sees his wounds, the slight heave in his breathing after his ribs were scratched out. He thinks about Oscar, the kind alpha who didn’t deserve any of this. He thinks about how many more could get hurt. “Did — did you try to warn the other packs? Is that why Oscar was —”

Charles couldn’t get the words out but Seb understood him loud and clear. 

“Oscar was noble, Charles.” Seb wipes a single tear trailing down his cheek. “The first thing he wanted to do when he learned was warn others. We’d set off immediately. We went to Williams, Sauber but they got us at the border of Alpine. The council has to be behind it. The attack was too specific. Too random to be a coincidence. We were fully in pack territory where no rogues would dare to enter.” Seb takes a harsh breath in, trying to control his emotions. “We ran all the way here. Just outside the Red Bull border when more rogues joined. Oscar told me to go by myself. Get help. But it was — too late.”

Charles openly cries. 

Ollie, who’d been silent this whole time, cries too. 

Their hearts aching for a life that shouldn’t have been lost. 

“This pack is cruel.” Seb concludes. “It — they are monsters. Power hungry, immoral. Just everything that wolves aren’t supposed to be.” The other beta spits. 

Charles tries to compose himself. Tries to breathe through the constant pain stabbing his heart. 

“We – can we try to warn the others? They shouldn’t come here for the Big Hunt.”

Seb shakes his head. “How?”

Charles looks around helpless. There must be something, anything — his eyes land on the other omega. He remembers how cleverly Ollie had smuggled heat suppressants. How he orchestrated the entire thing for years without being caught. Ollie should have connections then.

“Ollie, I need you to tell me about how exactly you communicated with other packs to get heat suppressants."

Oscar is gone. Lando left. Ollie will leave. Seb is injured. Max —

Every single person Charles cares about has suffered and still suffering. 

His heart hurts thinking about it all. Chokes him with it. The pain inflicted on them for no reason. 

He thinks about what else is left for him here, at Red Bull, and he can’t think of many. 

Seb will fight, he said. He would find who did that to Oscar and bring them to justice. But Charles doesn’t believe in it anymore. 

At the very core of their justice system, sits the council. They will get the final say and Charles doesn’t trust them. Maybe, never trusted them to begin with. 

This pack lacks morals. It’s rotten to the very core. 

Charles had once been thankful that his grandmother had brought him here. It gave him Max, it gave him his life. And yet — it’s taken everything from him too. 

The familiar medical hut becomes unfamiliar every single day, his services no longer needed. 

Charles doesn’t necessarily want to give his services to this pack anyway. 

A pack that probably never saw him as one of their own, they probably saw something useful in him and kept him around as such. 

Would he be disposed of when he became a nuisance too? When they find out he knows too much to be alive, would they brutally murder him too? Leave him out, just outside the border, in the freezing cold? 

Does this pack even deserve him? 

It’s the next morning when a soft, persistent knocking stirs Charles from the restless sleep he’d finally managed to fall into.

He’s been sleeping poorly — if at all — these days. 

Every creak of the floorboards, every shift of wind outside makes him flinch and wide awake. His body’s wound too tight, mind stuck in an endless loop of what-ifs and regrets.

The knock comes again and this time Charles pushes off the furs and moves to the door, dread already beginning to settle deep in his chest.

Last time someone knocked like this, he’d opened the door to find Seb half dead with the news of Oscar. 

He swallows against the bitter lump in his throat, bracing himself for the worst as he opens the door —

But it’s not death this time.

It’s —

“Max.”

The name slips from Charles’ mouth in a choked whisper. 

It’s not even really a word, more a release of breath, a breaking open of the tension he’s been carrying in his chest since the moment the alpha left.

And then Charles is moving, closing the space between them and crashing against the alpha.

Max catches him instinctively, strong arms wrapping around Charles, grounding him with the sheer weight of his presence.

There’s snow in Max’s hair, the cold still clinging to his coat — but Charles doesn’t care. He clings tighter.

“You’re back.” Charles breathes, the words muffled against the crook of Max’s neck.

Max doesn’t answer — he just pulls him in tighter. “Charlie.” He murmurs, voice raw. “I missed you.”

Charles leans back slightly, just enough to cradle Max’s face in his palms. He scans the alpha’s features — the blue-purple circles under his weary eyes, skin pale, scent dulled. Max looks as terrible as Charles feels. 

“Are you okay?” He asks slowly, needing the confirmation.

Max gives a stiff nod. It’s far from convincing, but it’s something. Charles releases a shaky breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding, then gently leads him inside.

He takes the heavy furs off of the alpha and settles him down in front of the fireplace while he slips into the kitchen to quickly brew some warm tea. 

Charles feels some semblance of normal again, like he’s no longer thrown into the rough ocean but finally found a piece of land to brace his feet against. Something solid he can hold onto. 

He returns to the fireplace with steaming cups of herbal tea and tucks himself into the alpha’s side, loathing any inch of space between them.

The last time they’d been like this, sharing body heat, with only the burning fire lighting their faces, Charles had been experiencing happiness like he never had before. 

He finally had Max, his best friend that he was yearning for, had confessed to him. They’d kissed. They hugged. It was perfect. 

Now staring into the flames, Charles felt nothing but deep rooted sadness. 

“How is Lando?” He eventually asks. 

Max doesn’t look at him. “He set the burial ceremony on the day of the full moon, and asked if you could come.”

“Of course I will.” Charles doesn’t hesitate to say. 

“Is Seb well?” Max asks then.

Charles nods, realises the alpha isn’t paying him mind so he says instead — “Seb is doing much better now.” 

Then he continues to tell everything to Max that the beta had told him. 

When he finishes recounting the alpha looks to him — something broken and fragile. “I’m sorry… so fucking sorry this happened Charles.” 

Charles shakes his head. Tries to keep the tears at bay but they slip past anyway. 

“Not your fault.” Charles repeats. 

Max doesn’t seem convinced but he doesn’t say anything more, just pulls Charles closer, burying his head against his chest. 

There is silence that follows, not awkward but heavy. 

Max’s guilt, Charles’ grief — it seems like an endless cycle they can never break out of. 

It’s cruel.

The world was always so cruel to them — just when Charles thought he could have this — he realises he can’t. 

He can’t — because he doesn’t want to stay here. 

Charles will help bring justice, he will help Oscar lay in peace and help the hundreds of others that will come to Red Bull for the Big Hunt. 

But then he will leave.

He will leave Red Bull forever. 

Charles had asked himself before, what is left for him at Red Bull? 

There was only ever one thing. Someone.

That someone who’s resting their head against his heart.

His heart that belonged to Max long ago.

But after everything — Charles can’t . 

He can’t stay in Red Bull, not even for Max. 

Chapter Text

“Boys.” Charles’ grandmother called, voice calm but when that didn’t earn even a glance nor quieted them down, she raised it. 

“Boys!”

That got their attention.

Charles froze mid-throw, a dried branch still in hand, while Max, Seb and Daniel untangled themselves from the chaotic wrestling heap they’d formed on the floor. 

All four of them looked up with identical guilty expressions.

Standing at the entrance, arms crossed and mouth set in a tight line, his grandmother looked thoroughly unimpressed. “You are acting like a bunch of rowdy pups. This is a medical hut! Show some discipline.” She scolded. 

“But he started it —”

“He dragged me over —”

“Max kicked me on my —”

“I did not! You —”

“Enough!” She snapped, cutting off the stream of complaints with a single sharp word. “I don’t want to hear it. Clean this mess up now.”

With that, she turned and swept into the back room, the curtains swooshed behind her. 

Her command rang loud and clear.

Charles scowled and looked around at the herbs scattered across the floor, pillows half-shredded and one particularly sad-looking sheet crumpled beneath Seb’s boot.

“This is all your fault.” He grumbled, tossing a glare at Max and sticking out his tongue for emphasis.

Max scowled. “You threw the first bone.”

Charles huffed. “I was aiming at Daniel and you got in the way!”

“Hey!” Daniel complained, picking up the sheets that definitely needed to be washed and thoroughly cleaned. “I have done nothing to deserve this treatment.”

“That’s because —” Charles paused, throwing a wary look Max's way. “You were about to open your big mouth and spew something stupid again!”

Seb just sighed and started gathering herbs. “Every time I visit, I regret it.”

“Then stop visiting!” Max and Charles chorused.

“Pups pups. Come on now.” Daniel muttered, ducking as Charles half-heartedly threw another pillow his way.

Admittedly, Charles knew he’d overreacted and made a slight misjudgement — but no way in hell would he ever admit it.

Daniel had been on his case ever since returning from his latest trip, tailing him and Max like a pesky fly. The other alpha was constantly smirking and wiggling his eyebrows whenever Charles so much as glanced at Max. 

And lately, Charles’ feelings had grown a little too obvious for his own good. He was painfully aware of it and he most definitely did not need Max’s older brother shining a spotlight on it.

But he’d found other things to distract him from his feelings. 

This morning, with his Mamie out running errands and Seb temporarily in charge, Charles had taken the golden opportunity to experiment with a potion he’d found —

A stupid love potion. 

Not that Charles had stooped so low to use it for his own benefit— but he figured if he could perfect it, he could at least sell it. 

Seb had been way too keen to help too. Eagerly reading the instructions that Charles had found buried under medical record books from his grandmother’s stash. 

The page was faded, yellowed but still legible, the ingredients easy to find too and now with help, Charles had thought it was the perfect time to test it out.

But of course, the second the potion started to simmer, Daniel had barged right into the medical hut with a wide grin and too-suspecting eyes.

Seb, being absolutely useless in that moment, spilled the details about what they were so busy concocting and Daniel, being a menace, immediately started teasing Charles about “who” the potion was for and Charles had done a great job deflecting — until Max walked in. 

Panic had struck like lightning and when he saw Daniel’s eyes practically light up and Charles in his desperation had launched a bone at the other alpha which of course had hit his friend instead.

From there — pure chaos.

So really, Charles reasoned, none of it was actually his fault.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything about your little cru —”

“DANIEL!” Charles hissed, heat blooming across his cheeks.

Daniel smirked but waved him off. “I was going to tell you about my latest travels, actually.”

And oh —

While Charles had his suspicions, he still latched onto the new topic like a lifeline. “Sure.” He muttered, clutching a pillow to his chest. “Where did you go this time?”

Daniel lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. “Mercedes!” He declared proudly. “The most fascinating place I’ve visited.”

“Huh?” Seb raised a brow. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s a newer pack, only a few years old from what I know.” Daniel explained eagerly. “But get this — they don’t have traditional leadership. No Head Alpha or Head Omegas. No hierarchy. Everything’s decided through community votes. Every wolf has a voice. Doesn’t matter if you’re alpha, beta or omega.”

“Sounds chaotic and too good to be real.” Max muttered, unimpressed.

“But it is real!” Daniel insisted. “I witnessed it first hand. How harmonious everything was. They just — they are just true wolves to the core. They embrace our ancestors and their way of living. They had pack dinners almost every night. Imagine living in a place like that.”

Charles thought about it and it didn’t really make sense. It sounded a bit too unorganised and chaotic, like Seb had pointed out.

“I wish I could live in a place like that.” Daniel said slowly, a faraway look in his eyes. “Escape responsibilities, just pure freedom.” Then he looked to the rest of them. “Don’t you?”

“Not really.” Seb said with a shrug. “I’m perfectly happy here.”

Charles caught the way Daniel’s smile dimmed, subtle, but back on in the next moment. 

“Besides, as the next pack leader should you really be praising another pack?” Seb had laughed it off, distracted before he even saw how Daniel’s face completely fell at the comment. 

But Charles noticed.

He hadn’t really seen Daniel shed this vibrant personality of his, especially over his future as their leader. Always assumed that Daniel wore that title proudly, but looking at the other alpha now — Charles wasn’t so sure.

But he knew one thing for sure — he didn’t like seeing Daniel like this.

“Mercedes sounds nice.” He started slowly, grabbing the alpha’s attention. “Where are they based?”

Daniel immediately perked up, a smile back on his features. “Deep in the mountains! The views are insane, Charlie —”

As Daniel launched into his passionate retelling, eyes sparkling with memory, Max shifted closer to Charles. 

Charles glanced at him and his friend gave him a small, knowing smile. 

They both watched Daniel with quiet amusement as he rambled on and on about a pack that still sounded too good to be true. 

It’s a miserable day on the day of the full moon, the clouds hang overhead, threatening rain any  second. There isn’t a bird song, nor a gentle breeze, not even an animal sound. 

Like the whole world is grieving. 

Charles doesn't expect it any other way — it fits such a devastating occasion. 

He had left early that morning, just before the sun had even touched the horizon to make the four hour trek to Mclaren.

He did it alone after Max had left the night before to help with arrangements. 

He uses the time to get lost in his thoughts about how after today his life is about to change forever. 

With the help of Ollie and his networks they were able to subtly send letters to alert the packs coming to the Big Hunt. 

It’s an ingenious plan, if he says so himself. 

Omegas are often overlooked not only in this pack but in their world in general. So to use them to send messages across is the best thing they could think of.

The plan isn’t flawless. It’s hard to say if the planned message had been reached or not. 

There isn’t enough time for any back and forth communication and there is always the chance of pack leaders not believing the words coming from an omega. 

Charles sincerely hopes it doesn’t come to that. That at least pack leaders are willing to take an omega’s word with a grain of salt but with Charles here and the opening ceremony happening at Red Bull in just a few hours, it’s also hard to say how the day will fare.

As a last ditch they even have the baby alphas lining the border to warn any unassuming packs walking into their doom. 

If everything went according to plan, Charles and Max will be able to make it back to Red Bull for the opening ceremony where confrontations will most likely take place. 

Charles is not nearly enough prepared for it, feels bile rise up his throat just at the thought alone. 

He might need to stand there, in front of all the elders, the council, other pack’s elders and councils and speak against his home, expose the darkest, vilest truths of Red Bull. 

It could end very badly for him…

Charles has already come to terms with the fact that once this night ends, he won’t have a pack anymore. 

While other packs may feel gratitude for Charles taking a stance and helping them, they would never want a traitor like him to join their own pack. 

That already limits his options immensely. 

Max doesn’t think it would come to that, really Charles doesn’t know what the alpha is even thinking. 

The ones rebelling against Red Bull are him, Max, Ollie, Seb and Lando. 

All who are already leaving this pack, except Max. 

The alpha’s position is solidified here. Not Charles’. 

Charles didn’t have a choice but to leave. 

It would be a shock to the other alpha no doubt, especially now that they were somewhat beginning to court. 

But there’s certain things in life — things that once you get a deep gut feeling about it, you cannot ignore. 

Charles feels that. 

He feels that Red Bull is not his, maybe was never his. They would never accept him and he doesn’t want to spend his whole life searching for acceptance where it was never warranted anyway. 

Charles thinks maybe Daniel felt like that — chasing and running after something, anything for approval. Took crumbs that the Head Alpha threw his way and thought that’s plenty enough. 

While Charles has deep-rooted respect for Daniel, he isn’t like that. 

He knows when to chase and when to just let — things be.

He also knows Max is it for him. His alpha, his mate — only Max will ever invoke those feelings in him. 

But if he has to choose between his mate and a life in a pack that will always look for ways to demean him, look for ways to make him feel unworthy — then unfortunately the choice is simple.

His Mamie always reminded him that self-respect, knowing one’s worth, came above all else. 

Besides, Charles thinks Max would understand.

But then there’s the other question on where he would move.

Charles hadn’t known much else besides his life at Red Bull. 

He went on mini expeditions to other packs to help out at their medical huts but never stayed long enough to truly learn a place.

Packs were for life. They were meant to be your ride or die. Wolves didn’t just enter and leave packs as they wished. So admittedly, Charles hasn’t ever thought to even think about life in other packs. 

Really his only choices were Alpine and McLaren. Two packs which he had friends in that could vouch for him after his betrayal against Red Bull. 

But — Charles knows these packs, while not inherently, he knew them enough and neither of them fits his ideologies. 

Alpine was near a stream, lovely landscape but very few omegas lived there. The population consists mostly of betas and the odd alphas and omegas. He wouldn’t be much help there, his healer abilities not useful enough for betas. Besides, with his own designation he’d stick out like a sore thumb. 

McLaren, while geologically similar to Red Bull, Charles had heard of enough horror stories about their Head Alpha, Zak Brown, to know to stay away. 

It was another pack that was kind to their own but differentiated outsiders.

Moving from Red Bull to McLaren would be like going from a hot pan into a boiling pot. 

The other packs he’s familiar with, Toro Rosso, Aston Martin, are both affiliated with Red Bull so they were immediately off the cards.

So where would he even go?

Lost in his thoughts, he arrives at the entrance to the McLaren pack.

From what he can see, the pack grounds have already been adorned in white. Strips of fabric are tied to trees, fresh lilies are scattered along the pathways around the forest floors. 

The colour of mourning, of remembrance. The air is thick with it.

Charles pauses at the edge, his boots crunching lightly under the fresh blanket of snow and lets the moment settle over him.

He steels himself before going to find Lando.

He hasn’t seen the other omega in over a week now, not since that dreadful early morning that changed their lives forever — and Charles doesn’t know how to face him. Doesn’t know what he’ll find.

Grief changes people.

It splinters them. Weakens their edges or hollows them out completely. 

Charles knows it intimately. 

And Charles — he’s not sure which version of Lando he’s about to meet. Isn’t sure if he’s ready to meet him. 

He bundles the scarf tighter around his neck, fingers brushing over the worn wool, grounding himself. A part of him wants to turn back but the bigger part of him, the part he should focus on, wants to find his friend and comfort him. 

Charles follows the curve of the path until he’s led right to where there is a low stone wall marking the start of the memorial ground. 

He finds Lando there. Alone. Adorned in a thin white tunic and matching trousers with a dull orange cloak over it. 

Even Lando’s back exuded his pain. 

The other omega’s shoulders are drawn tight, hands clutching the edges of his cloak, eyes fixed on a small pile of offerings left beneath a tree. 

Charles slows, already feeling the familiar pricks of tears. 

Eventually, he forces his feet forward and steps up beside the other omega.

"Hi Lando."

Lando doesn’t turn, just stares ahead, eyes and expression blank. “Thank you for coming, Charles.”

“Of course.” He says gently.

They stand like that for a while, in the silence, letting the early morning wash over them.

“He always liked this tree.” Lando finally murmurs, nodding toward the towering willow tree in front of them. “Said it was the only one that could stand the coldest of winters, hottest of summers. He liked it for how it stood tall and proud.”

Charles swallows around the lump in his throat. “Almost sounds like Oscar himself.”

A small smile curls at the edge of Lando’s mouth, fragile and flickering. "Doesn't it? He was always like that. Stubborn. Resilient. Part of me never understood how I bagged such a brilliant alpha you know?”

Charles flicks his eyes away, willing the tears to not come out. 

“You are strong, outspoken. The storm to his calm. Opposites attract, no?” He says shakily. “You were perfect for each other.”

That gets a genuine laugh out of Lando. 

Silence falls again. The kind that feels too big, too full of things left unsaid.

“I miss him.” Lando whispers.

“I know.” Charles says. And then, softer. “Me too.”

He finally dares to reach out, laying a hand on Lando’s shoulder. The other omega doesn’t flinch away — if anything, he leans into it, just slightly, just enough for Charles to pull him closer.

“I don’t know how to do this without him.” Lando admits, laying his head down on Charles’ shoulder. “Everything feels off. Like there’s a part of me missing. Like I — I’m betraying him every time I eat, sleep, live. ”

“You’re not.” Charles says, firm now. This he knows. He’d felt the same when his Mamie passed away. Charles also knows that words of reassurance wouldn’t help much but he could say them as many times as needed for Lando to believe them. “He’d want you to keep going. To live. For the three of you.” He emphasises, his hand drifting to Lando’s abdomen. “You are not alone. Not when Oscar left you with this little gift.”

Lando finally turns to look at him, eyes rimmed red but dry for now. “You really think that?”

“I do.”

Another beat passes. Then, slowly, Lando nods. “I’m glad you came.” He says, voice raw.

Charles squeezes his hand. “I’ll always come.”

They stand side by side as the rest of the pack filters in for the funeral to begin. 

His eyes naturally find Max’s amongst the crowd — 

Life is so fickle. He can’t take it for granted.

He will speak to Max as soon as the opening ceremony at Red Bull finishes. 

The silence that falls over the clearing is heavy.

Snowflakes drift lazily through the air, clinging to fur-lined cloaks and settling on bowed heads. 

McLaren pack stands gathered in a wide circle around the pyre in the centre. Oscar rests at its heart, wrapped in pale linen, his wolf form peacefully asleep for eternity.

Charles thinks about it for a second, how Oscar didn’t even have life left within him to shift to his human form. 

How Lando couldn’t get one last glimpse of his mate’s face. 

A low, melodic howl begins. Not mournful — not entirely. A song of farewell. Of rebirth. 

It marks the beginning of the ceremony. 

One of Oscar’s sisters steps forward first, her voice shaky as she speaks of Oscar’s strength, his warmth. Others follow with quiet stories and moments shared with him.

Until it’s Lando’s turn.

The omega steps forward, his posture straight despite the crushing grief he’s experiencing. 

“Um –” He begins slowly. “Oscar is — was — the best person I’ve ever met and will ever meet. He was kind, caring and fiercely loyal. I’m just glad he’s chosen me, that I got to know him as well as I did. Wherever he is now, I wish him peace and I promise him that I will keep going.”

It’s short but the whole crowd felt the pain dripping from every word, how Lando barely held himself together. 

When the torch is finally passed to the omega, Lando doesn’t hesitate. He takes it and places it on the pyre.

Charles glances across the crowd, his gaze catching Max’s once more. 

He lets it steady him.

The fire catches quickly, flames dancing into the air and above them — a single bird circles in the gray sky. 

A sign, some would say. Oscar is free now.

And the rest of them — they will carry on. 

“Did you think about what I said?” Lando asks slowly as the funeral comes to an end and they make their way to the community hall for a light lunch.

Charles blinks. “About what?”

“Leaving Red Bull. I know you might want to stay for Max but —”

“I want to leave.” Charles cuts the other omega off, voice resolute. “I do, I will always love Max but I cannot stay there.”

Lando looks almost relieved and Charles really doesn’t deserve a friend who’s looking out for him even when he’s grieving. 

“Have you told him?”

“I — I haven’t. Not yet.” Charles supplies, glancing at where the other alpha is helping serve meals. “It feels like we just started courting, or at least will — and now this.”

Lando furrows his brows. “It’s simple really. Max must leave with you.”

Charles snaps his head up so fast, he feels a bit dizzy. “I – what?”

“Mates come first before the pack, Charles. Always.” Lando says firmly. “Such is our nature.”

Charles doesn’t really have an answer for that. 

He’s seen both his friends do it. Leave their home to be with their mate. 

Lando for Oscar, Pierre for Kika. But none of them had the responsibilities of being a leader. Not like Max does.

Max is supposed to lead Red Bull one day. He’d be their Head Alpha. Charles could not possibly expect for the alpha to throw that away for him. 

“I can hear you overthinking again.” Lando says, breaking him away from his thoughts. “You must speak with him immediately. After tonight —” The other omega trails off but Charles knows what Lando wants to say. 

Things might change immensely after tonight.

Red Bull goes all out.

Charles had been silently observing as decorations and preparations were underway since last week, watching how the pack transformed. 

Crimson, gold and navy blue banners hang between the tall pines, fluttering like flames in the breeze. 

Hand-carved talismans were strung above doorways of every hut and along the main paths, each one painted with ancient symbols for luck, strength and protection. 

Music and loud chatter fills the air.

Young pups are darting around, having been tasked with collecting flowers and weaving them into little flower garlands so they can be hung too. 

The betas have been working away at the bonfire and together they construct something that towers over the entire space, its pyre already lit as the sun sets. 

Everyone is also dressed in their finest of furs and tunics, opting for vibrant colours that would otherwise not fit the dullness of winter. Jewels sparkle in the firelight, intricate embroidery adorning hems and collars.

Charles keeps his ceremonial white from earlier today, as does Lando, Ollie and Max. 

None of them are here to celebrate — they are here for justice. 

Seb is also there, supporting himself on crutches after they revealed to the pack a few days ago that the beta met with an “accident.” 

No one in the council had bought it, but it was publicly declared so they couldn’t do anything separately. 

Plus they needed Seb out and about so the beta can help with investigating the scent that Max had picked up. 

It had started with Max and the day they found Oscar.

While the others had been consumed by grief, Max had dropped to a crouch near Oscar’s body, instincts honed by years of hunting kicking in. 

That’s when he caught it — a lingering scent. 

While betas’ senses were weaker, Seb is a Healer and thus was able to finish the scent profile that Max had picked and together they’d traced it back to several rogue dens just past the perimeter of their pack border. 

The dens were empty, abandoned in a rush — but filled with evidence. Supplies like food and water. Furs laid on the ground. Tools of all kinds. But the most damning evidence was the Red Bull’s own hunting leathers. 

There were too many coincidences. Too much pointing to internal support.

Things became more obvious when Max had picked up another scent. 

Distinct and unmistakable. 

One he had become intimately familiar with.

Pierre Wache. 

An ambitious alpha part of the inner council with too much to prove and not enough power to do it. 

In hindsight, everything fit together. Pierre had long overseen pack hunts, selecting the routes and drawing up plans. He had free will to go beyond the borders without questions asked. 

Always the first to volunteer for external scouting missions and had a habit of returning with vague, half-finished reports according to Max.

His ideology was always suspicious too. 

Pierre had been oddly sympathetic towards rogues. Saying they were just wolves who’d lost their ways and just needed a gentle guiding hand to show the right direction. 

It almost sounded noble but Adrian Newey had been the one to block these attempts. 

The older alpha held power, he was wise, respected and thus his ideologies often butted heads with those of Pierre.

Adrian had been strictly against letting strangers into their packs where omegas, pups and older vulnerable wolves lived. 

With Pierre publicly turned down for his ideas everyone thought that’d be the end of it. That these supposed rogues that Pierre had found during his hunts would be left in the wild again.

But the dens say otherwise.

It still wasn’t enough though. They needed more than scent. They needed certainty — and leverage.

That came in the form of documents Charles found, hidden in one of the council archives that he had access to since that’s where medical records were also kept. 

He’d sneaked in there under the guise of getting a few documents of his Mamie but instead he’d found logbooks with records marked with Pierre’s seal but those that were directly contradicting what had been publicly reported. Lists of items marked as “damaged” or “lost” that had, in truth, been smuggled away.

And most damning of all — a ledger.

The ledger Charles found was filled with coded transactions, names that didn’t mean anything with a number of supplies being shipped off to “packs” that were unrecognisable. 

Packs such as Lotus, Brawn, Jaguar were shown to be receiving a multitude of precious supplies. 

Grain, tools, preserved meats and even medicinal herbs that were scarce in Red Bull’s own reserves had been rerouted to them under Pierre’s directive. 

But none of them had heard of those packs before and it wasn’t hard to realise that these packs don’t exist.

It wasn’t just rogue aid. It was trade.

A trade with packs that were non-existent. 

These rogues that were benefitting from these supplies would’ve pledged loyalty to Pierre. 

And an operation this size, this fraudulent — it wouldn’t have flown past Red Bull’s radar.

Which only meant that the council are aware of it and possibly, support it. 

That was all the proof they needed.

When they cornered Pierre, he tried to spin a narrative. But the documents, the scent, the witnesses — they left no room for denial. 

A few threatening words about exposure, about sending these documents to McLaren, Alpine and other surrounding packs, made Pierre tense.

Once exposed, Pierre wouldn’t have Red Bull’s backing. Even the other alpha knows that. Knows Red Bull wouldn’t care about throwing him to the sharks, claiming Pierre acted alone. 

It would ruin the other alpha. Not just dishonour but complete severance. No home, no status, no loyalty owed.

Pierre wasn’t brave enough for that. He cracked.

And once he did, the truth came spilling out. 

The council had known everything.

They’d known what Oscar and Seb had uncovered and the council had silently demanded that Pierre take care of it. 

Meaning use any means necessary to ensure the truth Oscar and Seb found out stay buried.

Pierre had begged on his knees, saying even if the rogues are loyal to Pierre, he didn’t have much choice when the council threatened his mate and young pups. 

So he had to do it — he had to organise a group to kill Oscar and Seb.

Seb had been lucky — gotten away. But otherwise Charles cannot imagine what he would do if he’d found out such a small thing had led to the deaths of two people he cared for so dearly. 

Even with Oscar’s death, it was hard to forgive Pierre. No matter how much the alpha claimed he didn’t have a choice — they killed him. Cold blood.

With this knowledge, the last of the puzzle pieces fell into place.

All the rogues Red Bull had been secretly feeding, protecting, weaponising — they would all come to ambush those who attend the Big Hunt. 

With the little time they had, Charles and Ollie sent messages via omegas while Max followed Pierre to the new rogue dens to ensure no such ambush would happen.

But that still leaves one last step —

Exposing the truth they’d found to the rest of the world.

The opening ceremony always begins when the full moon reaches the highest point in the sky, a moment laden with symbolism. 

A moment that connects wolves to something greater, something ancient — the moon, their guiding source, their companion from the beginning of time.

Tonight the moon will witness the downfall of a pack.

Charles and Max meet up just before they make their way to the makeshift arena where the opening ceremony is set to take place. 

All around them the night buzzes with anticipation— friendly battles, food, and drink, live music will fill the air, all while the real hunt looms just beyond the horizon.

Tomorrow will mark the beginning of the Big Hunt, an event that spans days. 

Groups of alphas from each pack begin at sunrise, trekking through treacherous mountain paths for the biggest and most precious game.

Wolves from far and wide look forward to this event, each with their own reasons. Alphas seize the opportunity to gain recognition across packs, while the elders use the occasion to network. Omegas often sat back and enjoyed the light festivities. 

Tomorrow may bring its own kind of chaos and fun, but tonight the stage is being set for something bigger.

The air crackles with all the tension between them as Charles and Max stand in the shadows, watching the arena in the distance. The moon, now climbing higher into the sky, casts a pale, ethereal glow across the scene. It’s almost serene but they know what is coming up.

So far, they’ve confirmed that McLaren and Alpine will be attending — and they’re bringing far more wolves than usual.

That was the plan all along.

When Charles sent out messages to others, the message had been blunt and impossible to ignore: Red Bull is planning a massacre. Bring as many reinforcements as you can or avoid the Big Hunt all together. 

Without the support of the rogues, Red Bull doesn’t stand a chance. 

Charles shifts his feet, feeling the weight of the moment settle in his chest. 

He’s really doing this, isn’t he?

His only comfort is that he isn’t alone. 

The council members were seated in their elevated platform, their faces schooled into expressions of confidence.

“Are you ready?” Max asks, his eyes trained forward and posture straight. To Charles, the alpha looks so indifferent, like it’s just a normal day and not the day where they will be upending the pack he’s supposed to lead. 

“Yeah.” Charles answers slowly. “Are you?”

Max huffs. “More than ready.”

Just then, right on cue, the music swells — a grand crescendo of drums and horns that echo across the arena announcing the arrival of packs.

Orange flares light the sky.

McLaren has arrived.

Their procession is massive — a sea of orange and black-clad wolves, dozens more than they’ve ever brought before. Not subtle in their intentions — but it was never meant to be.

A few heads in the stands turn. Then more. Whispers begin.

Charles doesn’t smile, but something in his chest loosens — just a bit. A sigh of relief. 

They listened.

And they came prepared.

He flicks his eyes to the where council is seated and notes with satisfaction how their Head Alpha stiffens. 

The next flare sounds. This time it’s Alpine. Headed by his friend, they also arrive in numbers beyond anyone’s imagination.

Wolves in their true form and some in their human form, all collectively gather.

Packs filter in one by one, Williams, Hass, Aston Martin, Sauber — each bigger and bolder than the last. Soon the arena is filled with a rainbow of wolves, standing proud and tall. 

The arena, once filled with only Red Bull pack members, disappears before their eyes — a living, breathing mesh of wolves of all different coats and allegiances. 

The murmurs grow louder, tension thickening like smoke. The council tries to keep their expressions composed but the surprise is so blatantly evident on their faces. 

Their Head Alpha stands at attention, effectively bringing a hush over the arena. 

“Wow.” He comments idly, if he’s shocked by the display, he doesn’t let it show. “This is — this is a lot larger than we expected. I must admit we aren’t quite prepared to host this many.”

A few chuckles resound before Andrea Stella steps up.

“I believe all of us won’t be staying for long anyway.” He says cryptically. 

Charles sees how Jos falters at the statement, his fake smile falling for a brief second.

“Very well.” The smile slips back on. “We’ll make arrangements where we can.”

“Actually.” Another voice pipes up, this one belongs to Lawrence Stroll. “We heard some rumours…” He begins slowly. “We’re hoping you can confirm this before any of the festivities begin.” 

The smile completely falls off now, Jos looks surprised.

Their Head Alpha’s eyes narrow into slits as he asks. “What kind of rumours?”

Lando steps forward.

He doesn’t raise his voice — he doesn’t need to. It’s dead silent, so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

“We’ll start with how my mate really died —” Lando lets his words linger before turning a glare at Jos. “Or murdered I should say.”

A collective gasp ripples through the gathered wolves — sharp inhales and whispers. The council doesn't move but the way they stiffen is noticeable.

“That’s a bold claim.” Helmut speaks up, his old face contorted into a grimace. 

“A claim I wouldn’t have made without proof of course.” Lando counters. “And today — in front of all of us I ask Red Bull to give us an answer.”

Taking his cue, Charles steps forward, clutching the records to his chest. 

Jos's eyes track him immediately.

Charles doesn’t let it affect him. “We found rogue dens. Several of them. Filled with Red Bull hunting gear. We found records within the council with many of our supplies being smuggled to these rogues.”

Jos scoffs, a laugh of disbelief escaping him. “Some forged records? Please Charles —”

“ Non. ” Charles cuts him off. “These records have the Red Bull seal, not to mention one of your own ratted you out.” He spits.

Max steps up beside him, a quiet solid presence. “We sent the logs for others to check too by the way.” He adds.

A few pack leaders nod in acquiescence. 

“We received your logs.” Andrea confirms, then turns to Jos. “We have interpack pacts. We are all supposed to declare our reserves, no pack is allowed to hunt more than the other. These records show how much Red Bull has been stealing.”

“And the supplies are going to phantom packs. Lotus. Jaguar. Brawn.” Charles lists. “Where exactly are these?”

Expectedly there is no reply from anyone. 

But an non-answer is worse as everyone around them starts growing wary. 

“And what’s worse —” Charles steps into the centre, his voice rising. Bordering hysterical. “ — is you bought loyalty with promises of food, shelter. You used rogues’ desperation to do your bidding. To do your dirty work. You put a price on our very nature!”

He’s heaving by the end of it. 

Breath stolen by how much injustice he feels. How his heart hurts thinking about Oscar’s life ripped away from him because of some power hungry fools who defy their beliefs and go against everything a wolf must stand for.

Everyone is alert now. The shift is palpable — Red Bull pack members are frozen, paralysed by the fear that they’d been under such a command.

“They sent a kill order.” Lando says. “On Oscar. On Seb. Because they uncovered it.”

A few sharp gasps echo through the clearing. 

“You’re accusing the council of murder?” Jos says coldly, but his voice lacks its usual weight. His authority is slipping.

“No.” Charles replies, resolute. “We’re stating a fact. One backed by testaments by one of your own.”

Just then Ollie walks in, with Franco, Isack and Gabi supporting a sedated Pierre Wache. 

They had to keep him obedient so all Charles did was give him some sleep inducing herbs, dosage just enough to keep him coherent but not enough for him to escape. 

“Tell them Pierre.” Max demands.

Pierre keeps his head bowed. “I – everything they said is true. I — I just followed orders.”

Whispers turn to voices, voices to outrage. Several alphas storm towards the stage — to the council.

“How dare you kill one of our own!” Someone from McLaren shouts.

“You are wasting our resources!” One of them growls. “My hunters nearly starved last winter!”

“You armed the wolves who attacked my eastern border?” Someone from Williams roars.

Chaos rises like a wave, building fast.

“Enough!” Jos shouts, finally losing all pretense of calm. 

But no one stops as voices raise. Shouts overlaying as everyone speaks over one another.

Lando stands clutching Charles’ hand like a lifeline as wolves tear onto the stage and confront the Red Bull’s council head on. 

They did their part, Lando had been so brave — all of them have. 

Just when he thinks it’s finally the end, a growl echoes around the space.

Not just any growl — the growl of a Head Alpha.

It slices through the noise, freezing everyone in their tracks.

It was a growl designed to demand silence. Command obedience. And it works.

All eyes snap back to the platform.

Jos stands tall, seething, every line of his body humming with fury. But then — something changes.

His face twitches.

And slowly, chillingly, a smile breaks through.

Not amused. Not kind.

Calculated. Evil.

Charles feels the hair rise along the back of his neck. Beside him, Lando also tenses. 

Both of them can feel before they even hear what Jos will say, that it isn’t going to be in their favour.

Jos’s voice rolls across the space, smooth and deliberate.

“We can explain.”

Three words.

And just like that, the chaos falters. The wolves who were snarling seconds ago now hesitate. 

They’re listening. Waiting.

It’s in their nature — the instinct to listen when a Head Alpha commands it. Even if that Alpha stands exposed. Charles can’t blame them, even he himself feels like he’s fighting his instincts every second that passes to not let Jos control him. 

Charles’ heart thuds dully in his chest. He knows there is no good explanation — not for this. But still – he can’t help but be nervous about what Jos will say. How he will twist things.

Helmut also steps forward beside Jos, his expression unreadable. Together, the two of them carry a presence that once cowed half the territory. 

They stand there — backs straight, shoulders squared — not as alphas backed into a corner but ones that know they have everything under their control.

“We of course have known the treachery happening within our own four walls.” Helmut begins smoothly.

“And we have also tracked down the perpetrator –” Jos continues. “ Christian.”

The addressed alpha appears then, walking through as the crowd parts.

Charles furrows his brows – Christian isn’t supposed to be here. Him and Geri were supposed to leave. 

He holds his breath as Christian stands in front, face grim. 

“We trusted him.” Jos spits. “Unaware that he was running a whole ring behind our backs for his own selfish reasons. We feel embarrassed of course that this has gone unnoticed for so long and we wanted to separately address this with just the pack leaders.” He continues explaining. “But since the matter has become public, we want to reassure everyone that Christian and his family have been exiled as punishment and all the packs who were affected by the misdirected resources will be compensated.”

His steely blue gaze lands on their little group then, a slight smirk on his face, one that says I won.  

“We lost a brilliant young alpha due to this oversight. No words can compensate for that loss but whatever it is that you need –” Jos addresses Lando directly. “We are here to provide.” 

“Bring back Oscar then!” Lando screams, his whole body trembling. “Fucking hell — do you think we buy it!? You just have a scapegoat ready and you think — everyone will —-”

He doesn’t get to finish as Christian interrupts him. 

“I acted alone.” Christian confesses, voice robotic and trained. Like he’s under an alpha’s voice, repeating words under a command. 

But Christian is an alpha himself — it doesn’t work on him so it must be something else Red Bull has over him.

Before anyone can even react to the seemingly out of nowhere confession, Lando lets out a hysterical little laugh. 

“Nice try. But we won’t let you get away with it.”

Jos remains calm and collected in front of the furious omega, even slightly entertained. 

“Why don’t we ask who Pierre was taking orders from?” Helmut speaks up, his grimy face turning to the alpha. “Tell us Pierre.”

Pierre startles at being addressed, flicking his eyes left and right but ultimately decides — “Yes. Um, yes it was Christian.”

Charles barely holds Lando back as the omega makes a lunge. “This is bullshit!”

“Lando calm down.” His pleas fall on deaf ears as Lando keeps pushing his hands away. “You’re going to make it worse.” Charles tries again. 

But it’s too late —

“Clearly you are blinded by grief.” Helmut begins with a faux sympathetic expression. “You are with a pup I hear too? It’s truly a tragic loss. Red Bull will offer their full support to find these rogues and punish them, as we have with Christian. It’s the least we can do.”

And just like that —

Just from a few words.

The whole crowd nods in understanding.

Poor omega who lost their mate and with a pup, of course they are delirious. Of course they can’t see left from right, up from down. Omegas are already emotional enough, but given the loss Lando has just been through, of course they have lost all logic and reasoning. 

Of course. Of course. Of course.

“Red Bull still needs to take responsibility.” Zak Brown says, someone who stayed silent for the most part. “Even if Christian acted alone, he was still a part of your pack when these things happened, so we still expect compensation.”

“We also wish to cut our ties with Red Bull.” Otmar pipes up. “Alpine cannot be associated with a pack that’s not unified.”

“Yes. Us too. Our trade routes need to be severed. We cannot trust Red Bull anymore.” Ayao nods in approval.

Several others murmur their agreements. 

Jos and Helmut look visibility rattled.

Red Bull, the once powerhouse, is experiencing something akin to a downfall.

While the whole council isn’t punished, Red Bull itself is about to lose its credibility and reputation.

It isn’t what they wanted — not even close to what they’d hoped for. But it’s something. 

The packs take their time after flushing out the details of how exactly Red Bull will pay reparations. It’s all mechanical, it’s all about resources and none about the real damage. Real accountability. 

McLaren demands the most but Lando stays quiet for most of it. 

It’s defeat. 

Charles feels it too.

When other packs filter out, Charles is expectedly called upon by the council.

Helmut doesn't waste a second to immediately whirl around on him.

“That was quite the show you put on out there little omega.” Helmut sneers. “After we took in your grandmother and you, this is how you repay us?”

Charles shucks in a harsh breath but Max is the one who speaks up first. “Don’t fucking bring her into this!” He hisses.

Helmut is unphased, waving a dismissive hand towards Max. “We will speak of your own defiance later, Max. But you — you Charles have out done yourselves. Speaking against the only place that was willing enough to take you packless rogues in?! You better have prepare yourselves for the worst of punishments!” 

Jos chuckles darkly next to him and Charles can’t already feel the tell-tale signs of panic creeping up his spine. 

“I’m sure we can think of something to make you obedient. You have been acting out too much.”

Charles takes a shuddering breath in. 

He reminds himself that they don’t have that power over him. Not anymore. 

Because Charles doesn’t need to put up with this.

“No.” He says, proud of himself that his voice doesn’t crack. “No you won’t be punishing me, because I’m no longer a part of Red Bull.” Charles lets the words linger before saying, much more resolutely —

“I’m leaving.”

Charles storms out of the council building first, leaving Max to deal with the rest.

He will need to talk to Max separately but for now, the alpha will need to talk to his own father about everything that went on.

Charles is heaving as he rushes out, clutching his chest to get some air in.

He just did it —

He really just — fuck.

The adrenaline that carried him through the entirety of that confrontation fades fast, replaced by a wave of fear and uncertainty. Because now that the words are out, now that the council has heard him, now that Max knows —

What the hell is he going to do?

He can maybe stay with Pierre for a few nights, but then what?

Charles’ breathing picks up, any air he’s trying to breathe in chokes him with it. His knees give out not even after ten steps and he braces himself for a fall —

A fall that never comes when a hand shoots out to stabilise him. 

“Shit.” Someone curses. “You okay?”

Charles doesn’t talk, he can’t get the words out so he just shakes his head, a silent plea for this stranger with the gentle scent to help him.

The stranger gets the hint and leads him to a small bench, settling him down on it.

Charles closes his eyes and focuses only on his breathing. 

In … two … three… out… two … three.

He goes through the motions. Counts in his head to one hundred before finally feeling like he isn’t gasping for breaths.

All the while, the stranger is there. Just a few steps away. Giving him enough space to not seem imposing but close enough to reach out if he needs it. 

Charles appreciates it.

He blinks his eyes and turns to face the stranger. 

An alpha he’s never seen before.

“Um.” Charles begins slowly. “Thank you for before —” He trails off, hoping the stranger will fill in the blanks.

“Lewis.” The alpha says. “My name is Lewis Hamilton, and of course. No need to thank me. I didn’t do much.”

Charles nods. “Thank you Lewis.” He says again, regardless. 

Charles resolves to wait until Max comes out but then he watches as Lewis lingers too.

He waits, until —

“Is there anything I can help you with?” He asks, when the alpha makes no move to leave.

“Sorry — I just, you’re Charles right?” 

Charles nods slowly, growing slightly hesitant now.

Lewis seems to get how Charles might be a little creeped out so he rushes to reassure. “I heard about you from Alex. Alex Albon?”

Charles furrows his brows, recalling Alex mentioning something. “Yes, um. So you’re from — Mercedes?”

Lewis smiles. “Yes.” 

Charles remembers thinking that the name rang a bell when Alex mentioned it but he hadn’t been able to place it but now — suddenly a memory unlocks. 

Daniel .

That was where he’d first heard the name.

“You’re here for the Big Hunt?” Charles questions.

Lewis chuckles. “No, we don’t believe in things like that.”

Charles tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“Hunting for the sake of it, showing off. It’s not our ideology.”

“Then why are you here?” Charles doesn’t mean for it to sound harsh, but it comes out like that anyway. 

“For you actually.” Lewis says, blunt and to the point.

“Excuse me?”

Lewis sighs. “Look, I know it sounds crazy but Alex has explained your situation to us. We could always use a Healer like you. Actually we could use a Healer especially like you. Someone who knows the omega biology. Someone who can help them.”

Charles’ shock must be visible on his face because Lewis continues. “We take in a lot of vulnerable omegas, those who were wronged by their packs. We want to create a safe space for them. A place where they can find themselves again. Live again. And we need someone like you for that. Some who specialises in healing them.”

Charles chews on his lips — He recalls Alex taking Rebecca and Isa to Mercedes. Promising it’s a safe space for them to let go of their old wounds. 

It almost sounds too good to be true — he closed a door and now a new one opens?

Lewis has a gentle disposition about him. Gentle eyes and even gentler voice. 

Charles wants to believe. But —

“Do you know who founded Mercedes?” Lewis asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Um. No?”

“Michael Schumacher.” Lewis says proudly. “After his old pack was ransacked, he moved high into the mountains and founded a pack that prides itself in equality. Do you know which pack Michael originally belonged to?”

Charles shakes his head once more.

“Ferrari.”

Charles gaps. 

“I — Ferrari?” He repeats incredulously. 

“Yes Charles. Ferrari. Your original home.” Lewis confirms. 

“Oh. I didn’t think —” He licks his suddenly dried lips, overwhelmed and also a little in awe. “I didn’t think anyone else survived.”

Lewis smiles. “Only a few. Michael was among them. He passed a few years ago but his legacy lives on.”

Charles contemplates it all. 

But then thinks —

Maybe this is a sign. 

“Think about it okay?” Lewis says one last time. “I will be lodging with the Williams pack for a while. Come find me there when you’ve made up your mind?”

Charles nods, still a bit dazed but already he can feel his mind being made up. 

Charles makes the slow walk back to his hut after talking to Seb, Lando and Ollie. Or more accurately, after saying his goodbyes to them.

Ollie had been largely quiet about his father and Charles got the silent hint to leave that particular topic alone. But they both reassured him that it’s only a matter of time before they leave too, with Seb moving to Aston Martin and Ollie moving to Haas. 

It was bittersweet but they’d promised to write to each other regularly and Charles had given Ollie his little notebook filled with instructions of herbal usage. 

While Ollie may have started learning herbology for his own benefit, the other omega had shown talent. 

Talent that shouldn’t be wasted. 

So Charles quietly revels in the fact that the three of them would continue.

On different sides of this world — they would continue to save lives.

His goodbye with Lando was much more bitter.

A part of him wanted to stay and protect the other omega but Lando himself had insisted that Charles stop living his life for others and he should find his own path. 

Quietly, a part of Charles agreed too. 

He did his part in this pack and although Charles doesn’t feel like he’d succeeded, not when most of the council remains unscathed — 

He’d done all that he could and he truly doesn’t think he has much in him anymore.

Charles helped shake the roots of the very foundation that Red Bull is built on, he witnessed as many packs cut off their ties with this pack and while the council remains, they are powerless. 

And Charles — 

Charles is tired and his mind has been mind up. 

He’s going to leave at sunrise.

The only thing that remains — the only thing that will always have him pause, is his childhood best-friend, his heart, his Max.

No doubt, the alpha had heard what Charles had so boldly declared in front of the council so what remains is Charles just confirming to Max that what he had heard was indeed the truth. 

He continues thinking about how he could broach the topic while he walks. 

This path that he’s walked thousands of times now. The winding forest layout, taking him from the heart of their pack, the council building, to just near the edge where his hut was. 

The hut he’s shared with his grandmother.

It's a small little thing. Perfect for two people. 

Two rooms, a well-worn porch and a garden that Charles loves fiercely. 

Even now, the plants outside sit tucked beneath a blanket of snow, their stems bent under the weight, their blooms only a distant memory. 

But come spring, they’d bloom again — vibrant yellows, purples and pinks spilling over the railing in a show of brilliance. 

Charles probably won’t see that sight again. 

He can’t stick around until the snow melts and flowers bloom. He needs to leave as soon as he can.

There’s also the familiar sight of Max — the alpha is always just there. Outside. Waiting.

When they were just pups Max had also waited just outside for Charles so they could go play and now — he’s waiting here once again. 

A small smile on his face.

The sight tugs at something deep in Charles’ chest.

But he forces the ache down, choosing instead to focus on what he does get to have, even just for a night. And what he wants — no — needs right now is just the warm comfort of his alpha.

After the weeks they’ve had, he just wants some company, a nice meal and gentle chatter. 

“Hello there.” Charles greets with his own small smile, speeding up his steps to bridge the distance between them. Charles doesn’t wait for Max’s greeting back before promptly falling into that alpha’s arms. 

Max catches him with a small oof but otherwise chuckles at his enthusiasm. “Hi Charlie.”

He hasn’t had Max for long, not like this. 

Not where he can easily and freely hug the alpha in public, kiss him if he so desires. 

He really hasn’t had Max like this at all and already the universe would be splitting them apart. 

Charles plants his chin on the alpha’s chest, looking up at the ocean blue eyes of his lover. “Come inside?” He invites. 

Max frowns, a little furrow between his brows but Charles won’t stand for it. He doesn’t know why Max is hesitating, could guess it had something to do with them being alone in his hut when the alpha hadn’t properly started courting him.

But for once, propriety can go to hell. Charles wants his alpha tonight. 

“I’ll cook us something and we can eat in front of the fireplace?” He offers.

Max chews on his lips a little more, flicking his eyes behind like someone might catch them having this conversation but Charles doesn’t budge, squeezes Max’s sides where his arms are still looped around. “Please.”

That seems to do it, as Max finally, finally nods. “Okay.”

Once inside, Charles lights the lanterns, bathing his small hut in a soft, golden glow that chases away the early evening chill. 

“Can you get the fire going?” He asks quietly, nodding toward the hearth while Charles disappears into the kitchen. 

The cupboards are nearly bare now — an intentional choice. Ever since he made up his mind to leave, he’d started winding things down, using up what little he had. Less things to carry, less things that would go to waste.

He pulls out some dried herbs and spices, a small bag of root vegetables and the last of the cut meat he’s saved. It’s not much but he can make some soup — perfect for this weather. 

Charles sets the kettle on fire and gets to chopping vegetables when two arms wrap around his waist and a firm chest presses to his back.

“Hello there.” Max echoes his words from earlier. A chin hooks over Charles’ shoulder, breath warm against his neck.

Charles huffs a quiet laugh, unable to stop the smile that pulls at his lips. He lets the knife rest against the cutting board, lest an accident happens, his thoughts already hazy from the close proximity.

“You’re going to distract me.” He murmurs, but doesn’t move to pull away. Doesn’t think he can, even if he wants to.

“That’s the idea.” Max says, his voice low and close to Charles’ ear, sending a ripple of warmth down his spine. The alpha’s lips find the skin just below his scent gland, planting a gentle kiss there.

Charles shudders in his hold, his whole body going limp. 

Max doesn’t do much else, just nuzzles the sensitive skin and Charles can only let out happy little hums. 

It’s all so painfully domestic and a cruel look into the future that neither could have. 

“I heard –” Max starts, voice quieter now. “You – um you said you were going to leave.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, but Charles still nods. “Yeah.” He confirms. “I can’t stay here, Max.”

He feels Max exhale slowly behind him.

Charles turns in the alpha’s arms so he can see him, see the expression he’s wearing.

What he finds — is not disappointment, which is a relief, but there’s not much Charles can gauge either. Max just looks — resigned?

“What are you thinking?” He gently asks. 

Max doesn’t answer straight away, likely mulling over what to say in case he says the wrong thing.

“I get it —” The alpha begins slowly. “This pack hasn’t been nice to you and — I get that. I do. But a small part of me thought you might stay. You know… for me?”

The words hit hard, like a punch and a plea in the same breath.

Charles feels himself crack a little.

He winds his arms around Max’s neck and pulls the alpha closer. “I really want to, Max. Trust me. You are the only thing that makes me hesitate. The only thing I have left here. But — I also need to make sure I’m respected, and feel — feel part of a pack. Community. And currently — I know I won’t get that here. Now or maybe ever.”

He cups Max’s cheek, thumb brushing just below his eye.

“I need to find a place where I can breathe again. And right now, that isn’t here.” He pauses, contemplates whether he should say it but then goes ahead anyway because he might not get another chance. “You will visit me right?”

It’s not quite what he wants to ask — really, Charles wants to ask Max to come with him. Leave this place behind and maybe they could start afresh.

A cabin deep in the mountains, just him and Max. He could picture it so perfectly, and thinks Max would like that too. Away from responsibilities, away from being under the microscope by the council — but there’s also a small part of him that thinks Max would reject him. 

And a rejection now would break him completely. 

He imagines he could maybe slowly convince Max. Show him the new space he’s building whenever the alpha comes to visit and then maybe — Max will one day just stay. 

“Yeah.” Max replies, voice small but honest. “Of course. Wherever you go.”

It’s enough for now. 

After dinner, Charles leads the alpha to his nest. 

The one in front of the fireplace — his favourite spot in his entire hut. 

He’s thought about it for a while and Charles wants it.

He wants this — he wants it with Max, here in this place. 

Max seems to want it to. 

Later they lay in front of the same fireplace, naked limbs tangled under an abundance of furs.

The crackling of the fire is the only noise as Charles and Max both catch their breaths. 

Harsh pants growing weaker and weaker. 

Charles is sore, his entire lower body is tingling. 

There’s slick and cum drying in various places, uncomfortable yet thrilling.

There’s various marks on his neck, chest and thighs — red and sensitive to the touch but he doesn’t stop Max from running his fingers along it. 

Fearlight fingertips leaving a fire in their wake.

If anything he wants Max to press, just a little so they stay. Maybe stay forever.

He feels satiated – his nerve endings still buzzing but he’s so satiated, so beyond anything he’s ever felt before. 

Warm and safe.

Charles thinks if his whole life is just this — just him and Max, tangled and warm from their earlier activities — then he can ignore it all. Then he can stay here forever. Protected and safe with his alpha.

But life isn’t like that.

It won’t slow down or pause for him.

Charles lays with his head pillowed on Max’s chest, letting the steady rhythm of the alpha’s heartbeat calm him too. 

“You would visit me won’t you?” Charles asks again. “Anywhere I go, you’d come visit?”

What he really wants to ask is if Max would follow him. But he’s still not brave enough for it. 

“Of course.” Max says immediately. “I’d come anywhere.”

“And you would stay for a few days? Maybe weeks?” Charles prods. 

What he really wants to ask is if Max would stay forever. But he’s still not brave enough to hear the answer.

“I would stay months.” Max says. 

“You don’t hate me for leaving?” He asks, a little more softly.

What he really wants to ask is, if Max thinks him cruel. Charles had been the one to chase when Max pushed him away, he’d been the one to demand answers. He’d been the one to ask Max to kiss him, fuck him. And then he’s also the one leaving.

“I could never hate you Charles.” Max says. 

Charles walks the familiar path once more, this time from his hut at the far end of their pack grounds and takes the purposeful route that cuts through the centre of their pack to the northern border from where he would make the trek. 

He needs this. A last look. One final glimpse of everything.

This pack, while it brought him such grief, such loss that it’s driving him away, all of his fondest memories were also within this territory.

He walks by the kitchens, a place where all omegas would gather and gossip. 

Charles had loved it once, the harmless words and innocent speculations they’d throw around about which alpha would court who and which omega wanted who, but he didn’t like it much when he became the centre of their gossip. 

He walks by the river, where he did his laundry for so long. The little rock at the edge was his go to. Sturdy enough to throw your clothes against it but not too rough to break through the cotton. He used to get lost in the motions of washing his clothes, watching the gentle ripples of the water while humming mindless tunes to himself.

He walks by Lando and Oscar’s hut, now completely desolate and imagines when Oscar would come bounding down the steps for his patrol, throwing a tight-lipped smile Charles’ away and a simple “have a good day Charles,” before disappearing behind the treeline. 

He even pauses briefly at the council building. The looming structure that once almost brought him to his knees and thinks how power when misplaced could cause such catastrophe. 

He walks a bit more and then — he pauses. 

Just outside the medical hut. 

The building is still familiar, but so completely different on the inside now. 

He could pretend that it’s still the same when he looks at it like this — from the outside. 

He could close his eyes and still smell the familiar herbs that clung to this building no matter what day or time, if he strained himself enough he swears he could also hear his Mamie working away inside. 

Her gentle footsteps as she flitted around and her soft voice as she explained things to her patients. 

Charles hopes she doesn’t hate him too much for leaving this medical hut behind, the place where they both slaved their life away to save other lives. 

Charles had tried. He really did try but he just couldn’t — not anymore. 

He thinks his Mamie would be the first to understand his decision. 

He would still be a Healer, saving lives was engraved in himself now, but he just wouldn’t do it here. 

Despite the way he’s been shoved out, he really does wish Laurent and Yuki to take care of this sacred space and treat it with as much care as him, his grandmother and Seb had. 

He takes a deep breath in, commits the building to his memory and turns away.

Charles is approaching the northern border when he spots the familiar silhouette of —

“Max.” Charles breathes. “I thought I —”

“Were you thinking of just sneaking away, Charles?” Max says lightly but there’s a bitter edge to it too.

Frankly, that was exactly what Charles had been hoping to do. 

He wouldn’t be strong enough otherwise. This was the reason he’d told Ollie and Seb to not accompany him. 

The same reason why Charles slipped out of bed this morning, long before Max usually wakes up. 

He’d had his small pack of things ready. 

Charles realised he doesn’t have many things he wants to carry with him. All he ever needs is his medical satchel.

But still he packs a few clothes, some food and water. 

Williams is close enough that he can get there before the night falls and then his real journey would begin.

But now Max is here.

Max who is supposed to fast asleep. 

“I —”

Max doesn’t let him finish, but grabs him around the waist and tugs him into a hug.

Charles goes easily, sinking into the warmth of the alpha.

“I’ll come find you.” Max whispers, his words muffled into his hair. “As soon as things settle here, I will come, okay?”

“Okay.” Charles says, his voice shaky, tears prickling at his eyes. 

Max pulls away just slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “Wait for me, Charlie.” He commands more than says, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. 

And Charles will. He will wait forever if he has to.

“I will.” He promises and goes for an actual kiss. 

Still light, not deep enough because if he stays in Max’s arms any longer he won’t be able to leave at all.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” Charles laughs as he says it, but the warning or more, his desperation is there.

“Take care, Charles.” Max says as a final goodbye. 

With that Charles slips away from the warm comfort of Max’s arms, turns his back to his alpha, to his once home and begins the long journey to —-

Mercedes.

Chapter Text

Was it possible to fall in love at first sight… just at the ripe old age of three?

Max was convinced it was. 

Whatever this feeling swelling in his tiny chest was, it had to be love. 

His heart had soared into his throat the moment he saw him — a pup with curly brown hair and the most brilliant green eyes Max had ever seen. 

His not-yet fully developed brain couldn’t think of any other words to describe this feeling.

Max had been running away from his Ma, refusing to bathe. 

He hated bathing, especially in winter when the water felt more like icicles piercing into his skin even when his Ma promised she’d warmed the water. 

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing the other pup who stood hiding just behind the older lady’s legs, peeking out every now and then.

They were speaking with his father, something about shelter, something about fire — but Max could hardly concentrate when the pup looked at him. 

Straight into his eyes. 

He swore he had felt his heart plummeting into the depths of his stomach when the pup smiled.

A small little thing, barely a hint of dimples appearing on his soft cheeks. 

His Ma huffed behind him, scruffing him by his neck as she dragged him back to the wash area and Max just let it happen — too caught up with his heart beating so wildly in his chest. 

Max soon found out the pup’s name. It was Charles. 

So fitting. 

So pretty. 

So perfect just like Charles himself.

It took him a while to build the courage to talk to this pretty pup, but once he started — he couldn’t stop.

He woke up extra early every morning, asked his Ma to dress him to the best of her abilities, ran to where Charles and his grandmother stayed and waited —-

He waited until Charles would walk out, his own too large satchel thrown over one shoulder and silently loved how Charles’ face brightened at the sight of Max waiting outside for him so they could walk a few short minutes to the schooling hut. 

It became routine.

With routine their bond grew more and more, to the point Max couldn’t imagine his life without Charles in it anymore. 

He would present as an alpha, Charles would be an omega — really their situation couldn’t be more perfect.

And yet —-

Max groaned as he sat up a little in the cot. Finally, after what felt like weeks, months — there was a moment of clarity. 

His presentation rut had to have broken.

He still felt like his whole body had been through the wildest of hunts — bones aching, skin flushed, nerves alight with a raw, feral hum he couldn’t shut out. 

Every scent in his own room was heightened tenfold, sharp and cloying — wrong. 

Everything felt wrong. His own skin felt like it was stretched too tightly over his muscles. Even shifting had felt like a breeze compared to this. 

He clenched his jaw as another wave of heat rolled through his spine — less pain, less like he wanted to pop a knot or sink his teeth into warm flesh, mark someone as his forever — but the fire remained.

Max just finished dressing himself when a knock resounded, followed by the soft familiar voice of his Ma.

“Max, honey, a Healer is here to check in on you. Can they come in?” 

“Yes.” He replied, short and curt. Better to get this through quickly so he can go back out there and question his father on Daniel’s exile. 

The door creaked open and before he even saw who it was, he could scent the warm cinnamon and vanilla — Charles’ grandmother.

The scent alone was able to calm some of the fire still burning under his skin.

“Max —” Her warm voice called out, before her short frame came into his line of sight. “You look drained.” She commented, but it was said in that gentle teasing tone she always wore when she needed her patients to be calm. 

“I feel worse.” He chuckled. 

“I can assume, mon amour.” She said lightly. “Can you lay back down? I just want to run some checks.”

Max grimaced immediately, flicking his eyes to his ruined bedsheets. A hot flush took over his cheeks as he realised the reason for the state of them.

God, he must’ve come at least fifty times over the last couple of days.

“Uh —” He began, scratching at the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“Here.” She said, pulling up a chair instead. “Sit here.”

He dutifully sat, thankful she made sure to position herself so her back is facing the ruined sheets. Small things like this, only she noticed.

Max lets her prod and poke him around various areas of his body. She even collected a small sample of his blood. He noted how she mumbled to herself occasionally and gave small hums of approval which he took as a good sign.

“Everything looks fine. I will further test your blood but it seems the presentation went well.” She commented at last, pulling out something from her little bag. “These are just some strengthening herbs. You lost a lot of fluids and this can help replenish that. Take two a day.” She instructed, slowly packing her supplies away.

Max took the outstretched vial with a mumbled “Thank you.” 

“Before I leave, do you have any other questions for me?” She asked. 

He chewed on his lips, wondering if it was too early to ask, but —

Max recalled the way that only one name fell from his lips, the way he only pictured one face during the entirety of his rut.

Charles. 

Always Charles.

Even now, the thought of his friend made the fire beneath his skin ignite once more, he missed Charles viscerally.

He’s sure Charles missed him too.

This must be the longest time they’ve been separated since they were pups. 

“H–how come Charles didn’t come with you?” He asked at last.

He doesn’t expect it — the way Charles’ grandmother tensed at such a simple question. 

Just as quickly, she schooled her expression — too quickly. Too stiff. 

Her smile returned, but it didn’t reach her eyes this time.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She said gently, stepping closer, smoothing a hand down the blanket draped over his legs. “Charles wanted to come. But I — denied him”

Max’s heart thudded, slow and heavy. But before he could get ahead of himself he asked. “What? Why?”

She hesitated. 

Which was a first. 

Never had Max seen her hesitate. 

That alone told him more than her words might.

Suddenly another thought flooded his mind. “He’s okay right?”

She snapped her head up. “Yes. Of course, yes. He’s just helping me put together some packages at the medical hut.”

That was a relief at least, but it still didn’t explain why Charles couldn’t come. Maybe the packages were urgent? 

“I can go see him after can’t I?” He still asked anyway, because her hesitation was making Max a bit nervous. 

A long pause settled between them before she finally exhaled, a slow, tired sigh that seemed to drag centuries behind it. Her shoulders hunched under some invisible weight settled on her.

“Did I ever tell you the story of our family?” 

Max furrowed his brows, unsure what this had to do with anything but knowing her, she always had her reasons. So he shook his head. “No.”

“Charles’ Papa was Head Alpha of Ferrari.” 

He shucked in a harsh breath, completely thrown off by this new piece of information.

Max had known Charles for more than a decade and yet — this crucial part of him remained unknown.

“I – what?”

Charles’ grandmother got a melancholic look in her eyes, one that spoke of the grief she was still carrying. “Of course Charlie doesn’t remember much. He was so small then. But my son, Herve, was the best leader they could be. He ruled with fairness and kindness. He was humble, and never took his leadership for granted. Charles’ Maman, Pascale was the same. Graceful and polite. Together they built Ferrari, and had so many dreams of making it bigger and better.”

Max doesn't interrupt her, this was the most she’d ever spoken about her life at the renowned Ferrari pack. 

He’s only ever heard small stories about this pack, somewhere by the sea, secluded but well loved. 

He doesn’t know the before of it all, before tragedy struck and some unknown, unnamed pack decided to raid and destroy this pack. 

But Charles’ grandmother knew so Max held on to every bit of information she was giving. 

“Charles even had two siblings. An older alpha brother. Lorenzo was set to take the mantle from Herve one day and one younger one, Arthur — he was a tiny little thing. Barely a year old.”

He feared the answer but he needed to ask anyway. “Are they —?”

Charles’ grandmother just shakes her head. “All dead now. I couldn’t even give them a proper burial but I did pray to the Moon every night that they could be reborn somewhere safe and warm again.”

Max nodded slowly, his own heart hurting at the loss this family had faced. 

“You know —” Charles’ grandmother gently broke the silence settled between them. “ — you remind me of Herve a little.”

Max straightened up, a small hopeful thing blooming in his chest. Surely it was a good thing that Charles’ grandmother was comparing him to her son who she had just spoken so highly off. 

“My son met Pascale when they were two. He latched onto her, really.” She chuckled lightly. “He was wild, chaotic, so possessive of her. He had declared to me when he was just five that he would mate her one day. That she was it for him.” 

Her green eyes flicked to him then, a knowing glint shone in her eyes. “When I see you and Charlie, it reminds me of them. The way you protect Charles, care for him. You make him so happy Max.”

Max blushed a bright red. 

Well it wasn’t like he kept his little (big) crush on Charles a secret and he shouldn’t even be surprised that Charles’ grandmother could see right through him.

“Which is why you must stay away from Charles.”

The words hit like a shock to his system.

Max froze. Whatever soft thing had begun to unfurl in his chest shriveled instantly, replaced by a hollow ache and the sharp sting of disbelief.

“I — um. I don’t understand.” He asked, voice cracking.

Her gaze didn’t waver. Warm, still, but with an edge now. 

“You are set to become Head Alpha one day. Lead Red Bull. Charles has no place within that.” She replied firmly. 

He sat back like she'd physically struck him. “But you just said — just now, you said — you said I made him happy and I — I remind you of your s-son.”

“I did.” She cut in, nodding. “And every word of it is true. That’s what makes this so difficult.”

Max’s jaw tensed. His fingers curled into fists in the fabric of the blanket. An unexpected anger rumbling beneath his skin.

“Then why?” He gritted out.

“Because as much as Herve loved his family, he was a Head Alpha first and foremost.” She said and there wasn’t an ounce of proudness in her voice, only sorrow. “He knew. Herve got the news before the attack came on Ferrari. He — my son had the choice to run. To protect his family but – but he went back. He went back to the pack to get everyone out safe and sound. But it was too late.” 

She stepped closer, lowering herself to the edge of his chair with effort. Her hand hovered over his, but she didn’t quite touch him.

“What Herve did wasn’t wrong. Such is the responsibility of a Head Alpha and you —” She gently reached out to cup his cheek, her touch still tender and soft like it had always been. “I know you would also do the same. You are just like him. That if it came down to it, you would sacrifice everything to protect the pack.”

She looked him in the eye, voice lowering like she was sharing a secret too dangerous to speak aloud.

“I see you, Max. I know how deeply you care. But Charles… he doesn’t need another alpha in his life who cannot put him above everyone else. I’m truly sorry it came to this but Red Bull has enemies everywhere. They would surely strike and get revenge. I — I may not live much longer to protect Charlie. And given your position now, I cannot trust you either.”

Max bit down on the words gathering at the back of his throat. Rage. Hurt. Desperation.

“Does he know you’re saying this to me?” He asked, barely able to contain the tremble in his voice.

“He would hate me for it.” She sighed. “The whole night — the entire early days of his life, Charles doesn’t remember it. He doesn’t remember he had a baby brother who he would hold in his arms for hours and hours, he doesn’t remember how Lorenzo would carry him on his shoulders and show him around. That night of the raid, it left him so traumatised, his mind blocked it out completely. Charles wouldn’t understand even if I told him.”

“I could — I would protect him too!” He argued, desperate and clinging to anything to convince her. “I wouldn’t be like your son. I would take Charles with me and run.”

She gave a tired smile. “Would you really leave hundreds of wolves that trusted you to die? Do you really think Charles would forgive you for that?” 

Max gulped. 

No. No, Charles would hate him for it. Charles was so compassionate, he surely would hate him.

“I don’t want Charles to even make that choice Max.” She said gently. “He shouldn’t have to. Not after everything that already happened to him. Red Bull’s council is cruel too. Your Ma —” She paused then, her brows drawn tight. “The things they made her do, can you protect Charles from that too?”

Max knew what Charles’ grandmother was referring to. 

He was never brave enough to ask his own Ma, but he was inquisitive, he saw things but he never questioned them. 

Too afraid of the answer. Too afraid of the council. Too afraid of his father. 

Maybe Charles’ grandmother was correct.

“ I would rather see him heartbroken and safe —” She said, voice cracking for the first time. “— than mated to you and destroyed by what comes with it.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Max looked away, throat tight.

“Will you promise me this?” She asked then — cruelly. “Will you promise to stay away from Charles until you are bound to be Head Alpha?”

Max wanted to lash out. 

He wanted to cry.

Max may have just lost his brother and now he was losing Charles too.

“I promise.” He whispered still.

He could already feel Charles slipping through his arms.

He has Charles in his arms now. Pliant and needy. Kissing him with a fiery passion. 

Kissing like this could be their last — and in a way it might be for a long time.

Charles keeps making these tiny keening noises that went straight to where Max was hardening dangerously fast against his pants. 

He couldn’t even fight against it if he wanted to. 

This wasn’t the plan when Max rocked up to the omega’s hut tonight. 

He wanted to ask Charles what he meant by leaving, why he would say that but instead his stomach is full of warm soup, he’s surrounded by the potent scent of cherries and Charles is firmly planted in his lap. 

He tries to pull back just a bit, just enough for his mind to catch up with what his body is feeling.

“Charles — fuck.” He curses when Charles uses the opportunity to bite at the skin near his scent gland before trailing up and sucking the sensitive flesh.

“Wait – wait Charlie.” He scruffs the omega gently by his nape to pluck him off of his own neck so he can get a moment of clarity. “Do you — you want to do this?” He asks for confirmation.

But Charles hisses. “YES. Hurry the fuck up.” 

Max doesn’t need more, he pulls the omega back in, one of his hands snaking around the lithe waist and the other curling into Charles’ hair.

He devours Charles’ mouth like he's starving for it. Like he was stuck in a desert and Charles’ lips are his oasis. 

The kiss turns messy very fast. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths, barely pulling back for a breath before diving in again.

Max snakes his hands up the thin tunic Charles is wearing, desperate to feel the soft skin of the omega, Charles doesn’t disappoint — he whines slightly at the cold touch of his fingers but softens immediately and lets Max explore his upper body.

He trails his fingers past Charles’ taut stomach, squeezing at his tiny waist before tracing the plains of his ribs and settling on pinching a nipple between his fingers. 

As expected Charles keens in his lap, bucking up right where Max is hard and aching. 

Max continues the assault on the omega’s nipples, twisting and pinching until it was a hard peak before moving on to the other. 

Charles smells incredible like this. His scent tinged with arousal is akin to ripe cherries. So mouth-wateringly delicious, Max could taste the heavy sweetness on his tongue.

He doesn’t waste more time, helping Charles take off his tunic so Max can finally see the golden tan skin in all its glory. 

Charles’ toned stomach, his slightly, dark puffy nipples from Max’s assault, the way the omega is heaving from just a bit of foreplay — Max can’t wait any longer. In one smooth motion he pushes Charles down into the furs, flat on his back, cushioning the omega’s head with his own hand. 

Crawling over the omega, Max leans down to steal a quick kiss before continuing to trail his lips down the smooth column on his throat, pausing at where his scent gland is. Where the cherry scent is so potent Max can feel his canines poking his gums to let out, to sink in, to claim .

Soon, he tells himself. 

Max presses a kiss to the throbbing skin and moves downwards to take a hardened nub into his mouth, relishing in the way Charles squeals and grabs a hold on Max’s hair.

“Ahh —” Charles whimpers when Max bites, his grip tightening on his hair.

Max smothers his own groan at the tug into the omega’s chest and moves to suck the other nipple into his mouth. Flicking his tongue around the bud and alternating with teasing bites. 

“Come on!” Charles eventually breathes using his grip on Max’s hair to guide him down, down, down —-

That’s when Max smells it — thick, cloying, sweet.  

The scent of slick. So strong it makes his mouth water once again and Max can’t help the way he nuzzles against the omega’s pussy, uncaring that there’s still layers of fabric, digging his nose into right at the source. 

“Fuck. fuck. You smell so fucking good.” Max emphasises his point by licking a broad stripe over Charles' trousers. 

“ Hmmm .. Max.” Charles squeaks, his hips rutting up against his face. 

“I’m going to take these off, yeah?” He asks breathlessly, hungrily eyeing the damn patch at the front. From his own spit, or Charles’ slick, Max couldn’t tell but he wants, no needs , to see. 

Charles doesn’t answer but eagerly raises his hips and Max takes the gesture for approval and helps shimmy off the last offending item of clothing from the omega.

He throws the fabric somewhere over his head, uncaring and careless, but he can’t — 

Can’t stop looking at Charles like this.

Naked and laid out all for him to take. 

There’s blotches of pink littered across Charles’ skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his puffy nipples to swollen lips. The messy brown curls forming a halo, his beautiful green doe eyes looking up at Max — fuck. It’s like all of Max’s wildest dreams come true.

Then his eyes drift down. Down to where Charles’ pussy is pink and glistening with all the slick steadily pouring out. 

Max barely suppresses a desperate growl clawing its way up at the delectable sight — but of course Charles sees it. Sees and senses how Max is hyperfixating on a single spot and menacingly, oh so beautifully lets his legs fall open. 

Just enough space for Max to slot right in between and — this time he does growl. Loud and possessive he lunges for his omega .

Ducking down he only just grazes his teeth against the little bud peeking out but Charles is already letting out a loud moan, yanking him up the grip he has on his hair. “Don’t — just fuck. ” He mumbles, frenzied. 

Max pulls back immediately and soothes Charles slowly, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. “What is it? You don’t like —”

“No!” Charles immediately says, shaking his head wildly. “Just – I’ll c-come. But I want — want to when you're in — on your knot. Please. ”

Max responds with his own loud groan and dives down to take those swollen lips for another bruising kiss. 

“I need to prep you – okay?” He pulls back to say.

When Charles just whines in response, he leans down for another quick peck to stop the slightly distressed notes seeping into his omega’s scent.

Max gets it. He feels the urgency too. Like fire is flowing through his body instead of blood and it would continue to burn him inside out if he doesn’t fuck Charles soon. 

He keeps Charles distracted by nipping at his lips and soothing the bites with his tongue as he eases a finger inside. Slowly pumping it in and out aided by the copious amounts of slick leaking out of the omega. 

He eases another finger in, then a third letting the omega feel the stretch and open him up for his cock, his knot . 

Charles continues to paw at the back of his tunic and whines against his mouth but Max doesn’t relent, just pumps his fingers in and out until the omega bites his lips so hard, Max flinches back with a chuckle.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Charles demands, his green eyes narrowing into slits despite the way Max continues fingering him.

He eventually deems Charles ready and rolls away to pull his own tunic off and before he reaches for his trousers, the omega slaps his hand away. “Let me.” He says sweetly and helps Max rid the last of his clothing too.

Max closes his eyes and lets a slight sigh of relief when his cock bobs up against his stomach as soon as it’s released, free from constraint. 

In his own relief it takes him a few moments to notice how silent it is, how he can’t hear the laboured breaths of his omega.

Concerned he opens his eyes and finds Charles biting his lips, so hard there’s little indents forming on his lips. 

Charles’ own eyes are planted firmly on —

“Charles?” Max speaks to get his attention. 

He knows he’s big. 

It’s not an alpha’s inflated ego that makes him say it but a fact and the way Charles is staring straight at his cock… Max can read what’s going on in the omega’s mind.

“You’re so … big…” Charles whispers, in awe or surprise, Max can’t really tell. 

Admittedly his brain is working at slower pace right now, the dizzying blend of their mixed arousals, the naked omega before him — 

“We don’t have to —” He begins to offer only to be cut off by a small growl.

“Max Verstappen if you don’t fuck me right now I swear to god —”

Max doesn’t let him continue, he climbs back over Charles and leans down to steal a kiss while he grabs a hold of his own cock and slowly rubs around the omega’s pussy, gathering the slick to make the slide easier.

And finally — finally he pushes in, swallowing the loud moan that falls from Charles in response.