CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The door behind Tavish opened, but he didn’t turn around. Sitting in the shadows, two feet away from the net curtain, he kept his attention on the window on the opposite side of the street. There, in a pale-gray bedroom, a heavily pregnant figure stared down at the street. Oblivious to being surveyed, Mir rubbed their neck. The shadows beneath their lusterless, tired, sad eyes suggested their nights were infested with nightmares and their days with longing and regrets. Frustration boiled. It’d been two weeks since Zep left, and it was getting harder day by day, hour by hour, to keep his promise not to go over the road.

“You have to sleep.” Tavish didn’t care about the note of frustration in Sibiren’s voice. Sibiren had turned up a couple of hours after Zepish left, and had visited most days, bringing Tav more supplies and providing someone to talk to. He’d shared most of his story, and in turn, Sibiren sneaked Mir’s hospital records. That the bullet hadn’t done more damage warred with fury that Mir had been hurt at all. He wished he’d been a little quicker, bitten a little harder, then the Sakish issue wouldn’t still be relevant.

He didn’t have to turn around to know what the middle-aged beta wore today. Sibiren always wore a plain suit with a perfectly ironed shirt and tie, like Dr. Taven Grabar had done, but the spectacles were new and added even more of a ‘professional beta’ vibe.

“I’m fine.” He didn’t take his gaze from Mir. They was looking down, smoothing a hand over their belly that seemed to get bigger every day.

“No, you’re not. You look like someone’s given you two black eyes. If you don’t start getting some proper rest, you’ll be no good to Mir when they need you most.”

Tav didn’t need rest; he needed to prepare. When he wasn’t watching Mir or washing to remove the stink of an omega Sibiren swore they couldn’t smell, he worked out. The fear of missing something in the building over the road syringed adrenaline into his blood as he ran up and down the stairs. When he wasn’t running, because doing that at night might alert others to his presence, he did sit-ups or shadowboxed, keeping his damn fist at the right angle and not tucking his thumb in on his one good hand. Strength and speed wouldn’t stop a bullet, but he prayed it’d help in any other situation.

Physical exhaustion didn’t seem to stop his mind whirling. Every minute of every day since Zep left, he regretted not asking more about what made the offspring of the force-manifested omegas different. How could he prepare for something unknown?

Sakish clearly thought whatever was different about the children were advantages, but the traditional church considered it a fault that could, and should, be rectified by surgery. In the long hours alone, Tavish speculated endlessly, but nothing solidified.

How did you reduce the population on the other side of the veil by stealth? Did the children carry some sort of transmissible disease that only affected sapiens? But if malthusians were immune, why did the Mother Superior want her children to undergo unnecessary surgery?

All he knew was that Mir would be mortified if their babies were deformed, but whatever the issues, he knew Mir would love them. If they were dangerous to others, it’d be a whole other set of variables.

Where did the church keep the Mother Superior’s children? Were they safe to be with other people? Maybe traveling to the continent here in Malthusia and living in isolation for the rest of their days was the way to go. But he was a doctor and a pony farmer, not a house builder. It’d be like moving back to the bronze age, except Tavish had no idea how to make metal. Better make that the stone age. He huffed out a laugh. While he floundered, Mir would probably thrive. But they’d cope. Together.

When nothing was going on over the road, he contemplated what he would take with them and the practicalities of transporting not only themselves, the babies, and equipment but also sustainable livestock. Any boat owner would report someone trying to emigrate to the authorities, as living outside the main island was illegal. He made a mental note to add learning how to sail and buying a boat to his to-do list.

Or they could hide out on the other side of the veil until Mir’s siblings brought Sakish’s empire down. Neither option appealed as his mind constantly returned to Freedom Farm. He’d been there for less than two years, but his primitive alpha brain claimed it as his territory. Being away from it made him fidget and twitch almost as much as the separation from Mir. He’d gotten used to the physical labor, the quiet, and the lack of people. Hell, he even missed Cole, but it wouldn’t be the same without Mir. And Mir wouldn’t be the same without their pups.

Logically, he knew any decisions about the babies now belonged to Mir’s legal guardian, or their sires, if they could be found, rather than himself. It didn’t stop his instincts assuming otherwise. The bone-deep desire to stand between Mir and harm or stand beside them so they could fight it together, ate at him and fueled his frantic exercise.

All this spying and sneaking around took him back to his university days and the beta supremacists who argued that the gendered weren’t capable of making sensible decisions. His own philosophy had been to help the disadvantaged, one individual at a time. Something he thought the people living over the road might share. Just like he’d done when involved with the omega underground, the Reeve siblings trod a fine line, but as they were still alive, it seemed they hadn’t crossed it quite yet. Unlike himself, Toren and Corish worked out in the open and didn’t hide what they did.

His alpha side admired their boldness; the pragmatic beta aspect thought they were idiots. Changing the system that had been in place since Malthusia foundation and had the backing of the ruling council and the church wasn’t possible without grass roots support. Cupboards banged behind him, but he didn’t turn away from his seat in front of the window.

“At least you’re eating,” Sibiren grumbled. “But are you sleeping? If you are, I’m taking a blood sample for anemia.”

“Toren was out until one. But Mir got a few hours of sleep from around two a.m. or should I say they was away from the window.”

“And you’d only know that if you didn’t sleep at all. You look like a damn panda, one with sunburn. Get your big alpha backside in bed and get some sleep or I’m going to chain you to your bed. And stop with the scrubbing. You must have removed most of your epidermis. You think Mir will want someone with a skin infection delivering their babies?”

Sibiren was right, as usual. His entire skin, everywhere he could reach, apart from his healing hand, had a distinct pink hue due to his near constant scrubbing. It didn’t help the sense of pollution, but he couldn’t stop.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Your bedside manner still sucks. And I’m washing because I can still smell her.”

Sibiren sighed and pulled up a chair. “That’s in your head, not your nose or skin. I can hardly smell you over the soap at all, and that has nothing to do with being a beta. Remember your first cadaver dissection? I bet you could smell it for days afterward, even though you washed yourself and your clothes. I certainly could when I did mine.”

Tavish grimaced. “Thanks for that memory.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sibiren let the silence grow for a few minutes before speaking up. “You know, it’ll be two years in another couple of weeks. And as you don’t have a proving certificate…”

Sibiren trailed off so Tavish supplied the rest of the thought his friend feared to voice. “I could get the surgery before the certificate arrives. If it arrives.” He kept his gaze on the window opposite, trying to control the growl bubbling in his chest.

“Yes, you could.” The enthusiasm in Sibiren’s voice said exactly what option they’d prefer. “And that doesn’t mean you couldn’t still be in Mir’s life or that of their pups. They have a guardian, a good, decent alpha who would never hurt them. And you could return to your work as an omega specialist and save even more lives. Since you left, the department hasn’t exactly been thriving. No one wants to take it on because of having to interact with angry or distressed alphas. It didn’t bother you much back then, and it certainly wouldn’t now, even if you lost your alpha status. The omegas of the world still need you, Taven.”

He couldn’t prevent the twitch at the use of his beta name. A name he’d clung to for the majority of his alpha life. It was exactly what he would have said if their roles were reversed and Sibiren had manifested balls instead of him. Medicine was everything. Had been everything. But that was before he met Mir, and his world got turned upside down. Now, even the suggestion of losing his balls had him clenching his teeth to prevent a growl escape.

As a beta, Sibiren didn’t notice the scent of alpha anger rising as he warmed to his topic. “If you want to stay in Mir’s life as a beta, you could always offer to affiliate to Corish. I’m sure he’d be overjoyed to have Malthusia’s premier omega doctor in his corner, seeing as most of his cases involve abused omegas. They might even set up a clinic so you can perform reversal surgery on omegas like Mir. And their pups, if it’s needed. I’m still damn worried about whatever malformation the Mother Superior mentioned. From what you said about her age, her pups must be at least in their late teens by now. If the malformation is painful,” Sibiren shook their head, “they could have been suffering for decades.”

Affiliate to an alpha a decade younger than me?He blew out a slow breath to control the flash of anger. Not in musth. Don’t let your balls take control; use that big beta brain.

The carrots were getting bigger and the sticks smaller. As a beta pair, if Corish let them, they could have a good life and still do everything they’d done before. They just wouldn’t go into heat or musth anymore. No more babies. The thought didn’t please or upset him. The urge to reproduce that consumed most alphas didn’t seem to be part of him. If he could, he’d certainly turn back the clock and never mate that omega. She hadn’t been Mir.

What he couldn’t abide was the thought of never wrapping himself around Mir during the night again, never pressing his nose to their neck and breathing in their wonderful cinnamon scent.

“No.” Tavish was pleased with the way his voice only contained a hint of a growl. “Society is the only reason I can’t practice medicine. Heat can be controlled with drugs, and being with Mir in a proper relationship will stave off future musth attacks. The solution is a change in society, not surgically circumventing it. People should be able to do what they wish, be with who they wish, no matter their gender or lack of it.”

“True, but that’s not the society we live in, and those who protest too much, end up like your friend Brenen.” Instead of cajoling or demanding, sympathy now oozed from his old mentor.

A flash of the impotent anger he’d felt as he’d tried to force life back into his friend’s battered body spiked his adrenaline. “Brenen was a proving house pup with no status and no family. I have far more backing, and if we don’t do something, what happened to Mir will continue. Like all the Reeve siblings, I intend to fight.” As soon as he said it, it settled in his soul with a feeling of rightness. Running might be one solution, but it wouldn’t help all the other poor Malthusians getting abused because of their gender.

Sibiren sighed. “You’ve always been a hard-headed bastard. I wish you well, but I won’t risk myself or my housemates for a doomed crusade.” Tavish hadn’t expected anything else from the middle-aged beta. Sibiren had a household of five other unaffiliated betas to consider, but it still stung that he wouldn’t have his old friend beside him in this.

The lines beside Sibiren’s eyes had deepened while Tav had been away, or perhaps they were more magnified because of the spectacles they now wore and had been wearing for more than a year apparently.

He held out his hand. “Still friends?”

Sibiren’s lips pressed together, then curled into a wry smile. They took Tavish’s hand in a firm, dry grip. “Always. I’ve left some sleeping pills on the bedside table, but I have to get back to work. The dead are as impatient as ever. Oh, and yes, I know Corish has probably made arrangements, but to settle your worrywart head, I left a triplet birthing pack at the bottom of the stairs, just in case.”

Tavish offered his best friend a smile. “Beta or alpha, you know me so well.”

“I do, and you’ve taught me a hell of a lot too.”

“Like what?”

“That gender doesn’t change the fundamental core of a person. You’re a bit more of a moody asshole as an alpha, but you’re still the obsessive patient-focused doctor you’ve always been.”

“I missed you too.”

“Eh, don’t get soppy on me,” Sibiren grumbled and headed to the apartment’s door, but Tavish didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

Once the door shut, and Sibiren’s light footfalls descended the stairs, he turned back to the window.

Down in the office, Corish spoke to one of his beta office assistants. Corish wore a smart shirt, with a tie and his usual black kilt without family or clan affiliation. As an alpha, he had every right to choose a tartan of his own, but maybe his profession made neutrality essential. Even if he’d worn beta pants like his office staff, there was no doubting Corish’s gender. His height, widening shoulders, and dark blond beard screamed testosterone, but he still looked young to Tavish. Although, a decade younger than Tavish, as he’d alphaed at eighteen; he’d been an alpha for three times longer.

Tavish bet he was stronger than the paper-pushing Corish, but he’d also probably learned to fight just as Mir had. Rubbing his eyebrow, he huffed as his alpha self automatically considered Corish a physical opponent. It shouldn’t matter which of them would come out on top in a physical confrontation because that wouldn’t happen. If they both had Mir’s health and happiness at the forefront of their minds.

Toren trotted down the stairs, easy and relaxed. The beta possessed the body dimension Tavish imagined a fit, non-pregnant Mir would possess, lithe, strong, and quick. Their hair was a little lighter than Mir’s but there was no disguising the fact that they shared similar features, with full lips, a straight nose, and a neat, sharp chin. Today, Toren wore a polo shirt and black jeans, the standard uniform of most students, and their dirty blond hair curled near their collar. Last night, their hair had been tucked up under a black cap, paired with battered cargo pants and a plaid shirt, and would have been indistinguishable from the thousands of manual beta workers in Malthusia. Tav had needed to look twice to identify them as they slipped into the office at two a.m.

Tavish found himself admiring both of Mir’s siblings as they went about their work. The office was neat, and the six beta assistants seemed happy in their work, most of which consisted of consulting the bank of huge leather-bound law books that lined one side of the office and writing notes. Some of the notes had to be about Mir. As a prosecutor, not researching how to charge the people who had hurt Mir must be as difficult as not treating a wounded patient as a doctor. Tav wouldn’t have resisted, and he doubted Corish would either.

Had Mir told them more than they’d told him? Jealousy flared then faded. Mir had their reasons, including the alpha who had tried to kill them rather than let them escape. My own fucking half-brother. Tav flipped almost hourly between wishing he’d killed Sakish, to regretting ever getting on that train.

There had been no contact with any of his family, although they must know Mir’s location. Maybe they just didn’t care about an omega who wasn’t carrying Grabar offspring. As far as he knew, Zepish, Rowen, and Sibiren were the only ones who knew his location, but there’d been no word from his brother.

Perhaps, Sakish had found out about his trusted colleague and half-brother being a spy with his own agenda.

Perhaps they’d killed each other.

Tav could only hope.

Standing up, he looked down to check that Sibiren exited unobserved. The senior pathologist at Malthusia’s only teaching hospital emerged into his field of vision, glanced over at the offices of Omega Justice, then strode off in the direction of the hospital campus over two miles away. Tav smiled. Sibiren still looked after his health, then again, seeing the damage excesses caused the bodies on his dissection table must give daily motivation. Almost absently, Tav stepped back from the window and began circling his arms. He needed to be as fit as possible for whatever was coming. As much as he wished his future didn’t involve the bogeyman of his childhood, it did.

Tavish had no clue how to classify Zepish now. How true were his claims about helping Mir escape their captivity, about not hurting them, about loving them? There were many kinds of love. Religious love, love between siblings, between parent and child, between friends, between mates. Which did Zepish mean?

Mir was his, Tavish knew that deep in his heart, but faced with the care he could see going on across the road, his jealousy of Toren and Corish had evaporated. Mir’s siblings were doing everything they could to make Mir comfortable, and—

He halted his arm swings then moved as close to the window as he could without disturbing the lace curtain. Mir, Toren, and Corish were having breakfast, but a strange, shabby-looking alpha was letting himself in the front door of the office.