Between Glass Walls

The mansion stood outside the city, surrounded by monitored woods and invisible fences. Silent drones patrolled the skies. Thermal cameras. Polarized glass. It was both a refuge and a fortress. There, Narelle kept the only bond that truly mattered — and one no one could know about.

In the main room, the floor was light wood, heated. Soft cushions scattered around. Educational toys made of wood and eco-friendly silicone. A hologram in the corner projected calm images: colorful fish swimming slowly among coral reefs. And there he was: Noel.

Five years old. Light brown, tousled hair. Gray eyes, sharp and watchful like a miniature hunter. He was quietly drawing on a touchscreen, focused on building a spacecraft.

In the background, Luma — the older nanny — sat with a blanket over her legs and a book in hand. She was the one who sang him to sleep at night. Who taught him poetry hidden within star charts. The other, Vika, was in the open kitchen preparing sliced fruit. She was stricter, kept to the schedule, and monitored the house’s security like a sentinel.

Narelle arrived quietly. She disabled the click of her heels at the entrance. Watched her son for a few seconds before he noticed her.

“Captain Noel?” she said, with a smile only he knew. — He turned, eyes lighting up.

“Mommy!” — and ran to her.

She knelt to receive him, arms wrapping around that small, warm, real body.

“You were late today.”

“Work, love. Too many unbearable adult reports.”

“Did you fight with anyone?” — She laughed.

“Almost. But the paper-eaters stayed in their place.” — He looked at her seriously.

“Did you win?” — She nodded.

“Of course I did.”

The boy seemed satisfied. He went back to his spaceship, adjusting a holographic rotor with precision.

Luma stood up slowly.

“He won’t sleep unless you say the phrase.”

“I know,” Narelle replied.

Later, with Noel already in bed, lights dimmed, and the sound of wind filtered through smart windows, Narelle sat at the edge of the bed.

“Ready for the phrase?”

He nodded, eyes heavy with sleep.

She leaned in, whispered in his ear:

“You are my most precious secret. My quietest world. And the only place where I am free.”

He smiled. Fell asleep like that, arms around the pillow and heart protected by words he didn’t yet understand.

Outside, Vika adjusted the security panel. Luma closed the day’s files.

And Narelle, alone in the inner garden, stared into the night like someone who knows she’s about to lose something she can’t yet name.

She thought of Kael. And knew the game was far from over.

[...]

Far away from

One of the omegas was still kneeling on the thick rug, waiting for him to touch her again. But his silence was more brutal than a shove.

Rhaek ran his hand through his hair, fingers pressing into his scalp as if trying to tear the rage out by the root. A muscle pulsed at his temple. He paced back and forth like a caged animal, the scent of the females saturating the air but unable to pierce the layer of contempt that wrapped his skin.

“She was always a problem,” he said, more to himself than to them. “And yet, she was the only problem I ever wanted to solve with my hands.”

The omega who had dared to speak the forbidden name now remained still, eyes cast down, hoping she hadn’t crossed na irreversible line.

“When she came into the pack, just a girl, I thought she’d be just another pretty mouth to shape. But she...”

He stopped. Eyes fixed on the fireplace, where the flames twisted like uncomfortable memories.

“She looked as if she could see through flesh. She didn’t fear me. Didn’t flatter me. Just... challenged.”

Rhaek clenched his fist, knuckles cracking.

“And I should’ve taken her before she became dangerous.”

Silence. Only the crackling wood in the fire and the fast beating of the omegas’ hearts.

He turned, his gaze sweeping over the three of them as if seeing them for the first time.

“What are you still doing here? Waiting for what?”

The youngest tried to smile. “You called us. Said you needed to let off steam.”

“I said that, did I?”

He walked toward her slowly, like a predator changing course at the last second. Took her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Then tell me, if you’re so clever... why doesn’t it work anymore? Why can’t I get that damn woman out of my head?”

The omega trembled. Had no answer.

“Because she didn’t surrender,” he said, releasing her. “That’s why. Because even when she screamed, she never begged. Because she slipped out from under me like someone waking from a spell and left me with the bitter taste of not having broken her.”

The words fell to the floor like shards of glass. The three omegas remained silent, understanding — with the instinct that still remained — that this wasn’t about them.

Rhaek walked to the shelf, poured another glass of whiskey, downed it in one go. The burn didn’t hurt as much as the image of Narelle entering that conference room: poised, cold, untouchable.

He wiped his forehead and hurled the glass to the floor, where it shattered.

“Get out of my sight.”

They hesitated, but obeyed. Once the door closed behind them, Rhaek finally allowed himself to collapse onto the sofa. The mansion, vast and sumptuous, now felt too small to contain the fury boiling inside him.

He remembered Narelle’s skin, her scent. The way she withdrew and attacked at once. How her body molded to his with hatred and need. None of the others had ever been able to replace her. Because none dared challenge him. None loved him with contempt.

And now she was back.

With the eyes of a well-fed she-wolf.

With teeth hidden beneath the smile of a businesswoman.

With a child... a child he didn’t dare mention even to himself.

Rhaek leaned his head back and closed his eyes, as if waiting for the fury to devour him from within before he ha

d to admit what tormented him most:

He still wanted Narelle.

And this time... she might be out of reach.