7. Tides of Change

SEVEN

TIDES OF CHANGE

“Ollie?” a soft voice called, as fingertips brushed his forehead and a comforting scent drifted into his nostrils. He cracked open an eye, the harsh light of the High Enfield Accident and Emergency department hurting his head more than the broken nose and two black eyes.

“Matty,” Oliver croaked, his voice dry and raspy from the hours spent asleep with his mouth open. He frowned, which hurt like a bitch. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brother said, pulling the blue curtain around his tiny cubicle.

“Like mum.”

Matteus scowled, pulling up a plastic chair and handing him a bottle of water. “You look like hell, brother.”

Which was to be expected, given that his face felt like it’d been smashed into the giant testicles of the golden bull. “Please don’t tell mum,” he replied. “I don’t need two hens pecking at my bedside.”

“I won’t, but you should once we get out of here.”

Oliver cracked open his other eye and squinted at his brother. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“We?”

“Yes, we . You’re coming to stay with Julian and I for a few days. You’ll heal quicker if we stay as a pack.”

Oliver sat up in the narrow bed, grimacing at the shooting pain in his face. “Not a chance. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

Matteus sniffed, cocking his eyebrow in an expression that could only mean trouble. “Okay then,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’ll give mum a ring.”

Oliver let out a sharp breath. “You’re a little shit, you know that?” Matteus grinned, his soft omega features making him look childlike for a split second. “What time is it?”

“Half-past two in the afternoon. You’ve done well to get seen so quickly.”

Oliver smirked. “It’s amazing how fast things move when you get hauled in by a group of alphas with guns. The nurses were practically tripping over themselves to get a look.”

“This isn’t funny,” Matteus snapped, stamping his foot. “Nancy told me what happened, you could have been seriously injured! Or worse. A knife? For Christ’s sake, who the hell attacks a police officer head-on with a knife?”

Just then, the blue curtain drew back and a portly middle-aged nurse stepped into the cubicle. “Oh!” she said, with a surprised look. “There’s two of you.” Oliver would have rolled his eyes, were they not so bruised and swollen. So funny. So original.

“Good news, Mr. Reed. Your orbital and cranial scans have come back completely normal. Your nose is broken—as we suspected—but there’s really nothing we can give you for it, other than packing your nostrils and putting on this little splint.” She held up a carton containing a white nose splint, and placed it on the aluminium table. “Alternatively, given that your brother is here, I’d suggest you stay with your family for a few days. Pack healing and all that.”

Matteus shot him a self satisfied look as he tucked the splint and packing gauze into his pocket.

“Also, you have another visitor,” she said.

Oliver’s chest tightened, hoping beyond everything that it was Lucas. Just what the hell made the other alphas jump on him like that? Was it because he lost control, or something else entirely? He shivered, remembering Lucas’ expression—full of possessive rage, and… and there had been something else beneath all the growling and gnashing of teeth, hadn’t there? He’d been… worried, hadn’t he? Just as he had at the Cock & Bull.

“Mr. Reed?” The nurse repeated, “Shall I let him in?”

Oliver blinked. “Y-Yes, please.”

Much to Oliver’s disappointment, it was not Lucas pulling back the curtain, but Inspector Callahan. “Good God, DC Reed. You look rougher than my Aunt Polly’s arse.”

Grimacing, Oliver sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Callahan patted the top of his knee and pulled up a chair opposite him.

“I’ll wait outside,” Matteus said, giving Oliver a small nod.

The Inspector’s eyes flitted over his face as he sat down, and Oliver felt as though he were about to be interrogated. “You’ll be relieved to hear, Oliver, that B squad found Helena Cartwright safe and well at the address in Wicking.”

Oliver let out a sharp breath and dropped his head into his hands. He nodded, not trusting his voice to remain steady as relief washed over him.

“There were three other children present. Our department is familiar with two of them—Harriet Brisbourne and Emil O’Shea. The third was considerably younger.”

Oliver swallowed. “How young?”

“Four years old. A little boy called Alfie.”

“Four? Jesus fucking Christ, haven’t his parents reported him missing?”

Callahan shook his head. “His parents were found dead by Devonshire Police this morning. Both betas. Both known drug users. Social Services knew about the family, as they had previously removed another child before Alfie was born.”

“Jesus. Where is he now?”

“In police protection. When I left the station he was having a nap in your old office.”

“Christ on a bike, boss. The police station is no place for a four year old.”

“I know. I know. DS White’s team have been liaising with the local authority to try and get him a permanent foster placement.” The mention of Lucas’ name had Oliver sitting a little straighter, something that was not missed by Inspector Callahan.

“Yes… well. Speaking of DS White. Oliver, I’m afraid to say you will no longer be working together. At least not with how things are at the moment.”

Oliver’s stomach dropped. “What? But I…boss, did I do something wrong? I swear I didn’t intentionally disobey DS White’s orders, I just?—”

The blood, the howl, the sudden shift, the shared emotions that passed between them. None of it felt like it was in their control.

Inspector Callahan held up a hand in a placative gesture. “Calm yourself, DC Reed. You aren’t in any trouble. But DS White, myself, and the Metropolitan Police have decided that after what happened, the two of you will work separately for the time being.”

“Separately? Boss, is Lucas in trouble?”

The Inspector shook his head before getting to his feet. “Just take the next few days off. I need you fighting fit if you’re going to interview all these exploited children.”

Oliver huffed, because that did go some way to calming his racing thoughts. It meant he wasn’t being taken off the case altogether. They still needed him, still needed his expertise. But it still wasn’t the answer he wanted. He wanted to know if Lucas was alright.

“Oh come on now, DC Reed. Don’t pout.”

Oliver nodded, training his face back into neutrality. “Apologies, sir. I’ll see you in a few days.”

They sat in relative silence during the journey to 4 St Irving Way. Oliver dozed in the back of Julian’s 4x4, hand pressed under his chin as he tried not to think about how much of a pain in the arse it all was. Blinking, he looked up to see Matteus and Julian sharing a concerned look from the front of the vehicle.

“I hope you aren’t talking about me,” he drawled, finding his jaw inexplicably slack. The last dose of pain relief was making him woozy.

“Of course we’re talking about you,” Matteus replied, stroking the back of Julian’s hand as he held the gear stick.

Pulling onto the driveway of the four-bedroom house on the outskirts of town, Oliver suddenly realised just how long it’d been since he’d stayed over. A picket fence, planted borders and a ‘Welcome to our Home’ doormat completed the picture of quaint suburban living. All they needed was ‘Live Laugh Love’ emblazoned on their living room wall, and the look would be complete. Though, he supposed a police officer and a registered psychiatrist could put down roots pretty much anywhere they pleased, with any homeowner association glad to have them.

The familiar smell of pine and linen wafted into his nose—Matteus’ scented candle of choice. Some things never changed.

“I’ll take your bags up and run you a bath,” Julian said, hooking Oliver’s duffle bag over his shoulder. He kissed Matteus on the forehead before making his way upstairs. Oliver glanced at his brother, an apologetic expression on his face.

“Don’t you dare say it, Ollie.”

“What?”

“That you’re sorry for being a burden. You aren’t.”

Oliver looked at his feet as he allowed Matteus to usher him into the house. Glimpsing his reflection in the living room mirror, he finally saw the deep purple bruises circling his under eyes, and how the bridge of his nose was a sickly green mess. It was a wonder the attack hadn’t caused more damage, because that second headbutt had been a hell of a blow.

“See why I wanted you to stay with us?” Matteus said, squeezing his shoulder.

“I might scare the neighbours,” Oliver replied.

Matteus smirked. “Good. They need a good scare, the stuck-up pricks.”

Oliver chuckled. “I’ll stick my head over the fence later tonight.”

Getting out the bath proved to be a slow and painful process, given that Oliver felt as if someone had put him through a wood chipper. Backwards. Whilst on the back of a speed boat. He winced as he struggled to dress, his t-shirt proving particularly troublesome as it brushed over his face. Matteus finally took pity on him after his third attempt, frowning as he pulled it over his head.

“What are those ?” Matteus said, gripping Oliver’s shoulder as he turned him towards the bedroom light. Following his brother’s gaze, Oliver blushed a deep shade of red when he realised he was looking at the cluster of love-bites peppering the crook of his neck.

“They…are…just another injury, I guess.”

“Bullshit, Ollie. I know mating marks when I see them.”

Oliver blanched, pulling the shirt down over his shoulders. “Well, clearly not, because they aren’t mating marks. Absolutely no mating has occurred here.”

“Maybe not, but someone clearly wanted to mate with you. And I’m sure I can guess who that someone is.”

Oliver huffed as he slid on a pair of purple slippers. “Guess all you like, because you’ll not get a word out of me. Not one peep.” Matteus didn’t try to hide the smirk spreading across his face as he followed Oliver out of the room and down into the back garden.

Julian ordered pizza and put on the patio heater, so they could eat outside and enjoy the last of the day’s sunlight. Brushing past his brother-in-law, Oliver plucked up the pepperoni pizza that was waiting for him on the countertop. To avoid any further embarrassing reveals, he wrapped a fluffy blanket around his shoulders and slouched back in the wicker chair.

He heard Julian chuckling from the kitchen, and when Oliver looked back, he and Matteus were exchanging hushed words. Because if Matteus knew, Julian also knew.

“Beer?” Julian asked, holding out two bottles as he padded into the garden.

“Thanks.” Oliver nodded as he placed one on the table.

“So,” Julian began, running his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair as he slumped into the chair opposite. “Matteus tells me you were assaulted at work.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Matteus joined them, sipping a glass of orange juice as he peeled a piece of pizza from the cardboard tray. “And how is Op Sceptre going? You’re on DS White’s team, aren’t you?”

Oliver swallowed, tipping his head back against the chair. “Not anymore.”

Matteus snorted. “What? But I thought?—”

“That’s why the Inspector came to the hospital. To tell me I’d been moved to Blake’s team. He said Lucas and I won’t be working together anymore and that I should take a few days off. I think I’ve fucked everything up, to be honest. ”

“Wait, why can’t you and Lucas work together anymore?” Matteus asked, taking a large bite of pizza.

Julian’s face softened as he rubbed the back of Matteus’ neck. Oliver had always known them to be touchy-feely, but not this touchy-feely. Shrugging, he leant forward and took his own slice of pizza.

“I don’t know. Something weird happened, and the boss was being cryptic as fuck.”

“What the hell?” Matteus said, pressing his elbows to his knees. Oliver shrugged and took another bite of pizza.

There was a pause, then, “So, are you going to tell us about the ‘weird’ thing that happened, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?” Julian said, taking another long drink of beer.

Oliver scoffed. “You’d assault a dying man? I thought your oath was ‘to do no harm.’”

This time, it was Julian who tutted. “You’re not dying. Just a pain in the arse.”

“Julie!” Matteus said, swatting the back of his husband’s hand.

Oliver sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he pressed a slipper-clad foot closer to the heater. “It’s hard to explain. There was a lot of blood. Lucas came to assist and… he just sort of went full wolf mode and pulled the guy off me. Everything went dark for a bit. He had the guy by throat and did this weird, low growl thing and suddenly some of the other alphas were pulling him away. He looked really confused, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Silence hung between them as both he and Matteus stared at Julian as though he might hold all the answers. “Oh,” was all he said as he took another swig of beer.

“Oh? Do you know what happened or not?” Oliver snapped.

“I have an idea. But it’s not my place to say.”

“Not your place?” Matteus scoffed. “You better make it your place, dear . Before you find yourself sleeping in the spare room.”

Julian held up his hands, shrivelling back into the wicker chair. “I mean… I could tell you. Hypothetically. But you really need to speak to Lucas.”

“Alright, so tell me about this hypothetical theory because I’m getting sick and tired of being kept in the dark,” Oliver said, aggressively biting into another slice of pizza.

“Have you spoken to Lucas or not?”

“No, they took him away as I said.”

“Alright, well, hypothetically speaking, every alpha has the remnants of a primordial voice box. It’s left over from our ancestors, back when we were sleeping in caves and hunting wildebeest. Now, in the twenty-first century, we—as in normal people with normal jobs—rarely find ourselves in life or death situations, or with a shortage of mates for that matter.”

Speak for yourself, pal.

“However, given the situation you found yourself in this morning—when your life was genuinely in danger—it seems that Lucas unleashed a sort of… primal howl. Totally out of his control, which is probably why he looked so confused.”

“Right, so what does that mean?” Oliver asked, pressing his elbows to his knees.

Julian let out a long sigh. “I really think you ought to speak to Lucas.”

“Julie, I swear on all that is holy…” Matteus hissed, squeezing the alpha’s thigh so hard it crinkled his trousers.

“Okay, okay,” he said, tugging Matteus’ hand away. “Lucas essentially blasted out a low frequency growl that told every alpha and beta within a five-mile radius ‘this man is mine’ and the reason the other alphas jumped on him was to stop him from killing the guy that attacked you.”

Oliver stared at his brother-in-law as cold, hard guilt settled into his body. Fuck. Fuck, fucking, fuck. It was his fault. All his fucking fault for inviting the alpha inside his apartment after being exposed to the omega. It had somehow confused his brain, tricking it into thinking Oliver was his mate. Oh, no. Oh dear God, no.

“Ollie…” Matteus said in a quiet, cautious voice. “Ollie, say something. You’re scaring me.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Oliver clutched the blanket around his shoulders. Then he told them everything that had happened since meeting Lucas, only leaving out the copious amounts of masturbation and perverted daydreams.

“So just a hand-job?” Matteus asked. “You haven’t actually rutted? And Lucas hasn’t knotted you?”

Spluttering, Oliver nearly choked on his beer. “No. God, no… despite all the phantom heat shit, I haven’t actually gone into season.”

Matteus and Julian grinned at him. “So what you’re saying is, this all started before the incident with the omega? And actually has nothing to do with that at all.”

“I…well…it absolutely is because of that. There can’t be any other explanation.”

“Why don’t you call Lucas? Like, now?” Matteus said, taking another drink of orange juice.

“Because the boss said we’re not allowed to speak to one another.”

“No. The boss said you can’t work together. Which, to be fair, is probably the right decision.”

Oliver nodded. He knew all too well the dangers of close personal relationships in the police. Despite him and Matteus working in the same department, they almost never went out on jobs together in case something happened, and one or both of them ended up being assaulted. Matteus, despite being an omega, could be an aggressive little shit. And Oliver—well, he was significantly worse.

“No. I’m not calling him, and he isn’t calling me. There shall be no calling from either of us.”

“Ollie…” Julian tried to weigh in.

“Oh, just piss off both of you. Can’t you just hurry up and have babies so I can live out the rest of my days as a cool uncle? You know, one that is perpetually single and house shares with a horde of cats?”

Julian and Matteus glanced at one another, a series of small smiles and unspoken words passing between them. And Oliver had been so wrapped up in his own issues that he hadn’t noticed Julian’s hand on his brother’s belly. Or how they snuggled close to one another under the blanket. Then, after a torturously drawn out period of silence, the penny finally dropped.

“You’re—”

“Yes.”

“And I’m?—”

“ Yes ,” Matteus replied, a huge smile spreading across his face.

Oliver jumped up from the wicker chair so quickly it sent the pizzas flying halfway across the garden. “Oh my God. Oh my God ,” he shrieked. “I’m going to be an uncle?”

“Yes, Ollie,” Julian said, kissing Matteus’ cheek.

“You fuckers. You absolute fuckers! You let me babble on and on, and… oh, just come here!” He threw his arms around them. “When did you find out?”

Matteus smiled, shoving Oliver down into the seat next to him. “Last night, it’s why we were up late, and why I knew something was up with you.”

“Fuck all that!” He said, waving an arm, “I’m going to be the best fucking uncle this universe has ever seen… ouch!” He raised his fingers to his nose, having jostled it in his excitement.

“Ollie, you really need the healing sleep. Or at least put the splint on,” Julian said, patting Oliver’s knee.

“Fuck the splint! I’m going to be an uncle!”

Late into the night, he and Matteus lay curled together in the heated garage. Their sandy-wolf forms were tangled amongst a pile of blankets, just as they used to when they were pups. Julian was also there, his dark fur making him almost invisible as he kept a silent watch over the night.

“Best parents,” Oliver said softly over their pack bond. He pressed his muzzle into Matteus’ scruff, drawing in his familiar, sweet scent.

“My hope,” Matteus replied, rolling onto his side. The white fur of his underbelly stuck up at all angles, and Oliver knew it would soon be plump and round.

“Going to buy all the things… all the things.” Oliver could feel his own excitement trilling along the bond, which drew a huff from the alpha, somewhere in the darkness. If there was one thing Julian hated, it was clutter. But Oliver didn’t argue, because despite everything, he had never been as happy as he was in that moment.