Archive of Our Own

“Again,” he hears from his right. Harry glares towards the doorway, his father leaning against the doorframe with casual ease. He looked more annoyed than anything else, unimpressed by finding his eldest son training just as he’s been instructed to do. His efforts were never enough for his father, but he was used to that by now.

“Push harder. You’ve hardly broken a sweat,” the Commandant ordered with disdain. 

Harry glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his muscles slick and swollen from exertion. He’d been up since dawn, as he was every morning, working tirelessly to perfect himself. His mind and his body always needed to be in pristine condition, according to the Commandant. They needed to be sharp, and ready. For battle, for breeding. For whatever it was that the eldest alpha son of the leader of the country was needed for. 

It was never enough. He was exhausted, but he refused to show it. Not when his father was single-handedly leading a nation. “It’s barely seven in the morning,” Harry justified, knowing already that his argument would fall flat.

His father raised an unamused brow. “Then you have plenty of time to work on your technique. Do better.” 

Harry sighed, resisting the urge to slam his fist through the wall in frustration. Instead, he nodded, eyes on his feet. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. And once you’re done, join me in my study, would you? We have something we need to discuss.”

He turned and left before Harry could say a word.

Two hours later, Harry had finished his morning workout, washed up, and changed. Within the Commandant’s mansion, known as the Grand Hall, a sense of formality was an unspoken requirement. His father always expected the best of him, in every aspect of his life. Nothing less was ever tolerated. It never had been, but Harry was determined to try to get it right, and to one day make his father proud to call him his only alpha heir. 

The empty, velvet lined halls of the mansion were eerily quiet, but Harry knew better. Countless people flitted around behind closed doors, working tirelessly to keep the governmental intuitions that his father had implemented throughout his time in office running as smoothly as ever. There was never a still moment in this building, even though Harry could hardly remember actually seeing anybody more than a handful of times before. Harry had learned a long time ago that not everything was as it seemed. 

The Grand Hall was both the Commandant’s home in the capital city of Vehrka, and his work space. Dozens of other governmental officials and employees were in and out of the grandiose home every day, but Harry and his father were the only two to actually reside there permanently. At first, when his father had been appointed to Commandant, Harry had been under the impression that they’d only live here for a few years. He believed that after his term had ended, they would leave, just as other families had before them. Except Harry’s father’s term had yet to come to an end. Sweeping elections at the end of each term suddenly turned into a couple of required votes from tight-lipped officials to secure the Commandant’s place of power. It ensured security, his father explained. Others called it a dictatorship, an ugly word the Commandant had never been too fond of. His father’s controversial opinions on gender roles and his stance on where omegas and alphas stand within their society had created lots of enemies for him, and by extension, for his small family.

His father was right, of course. About all of it, really. At a young age, his father had told Harry how omegas existed to serve alphas. They were good for childrearing and housekeeping, doing the things that alphas weren’t able or too busy to do. The alphas were providers, meant to protect their lesser counterparts. They provide security, protection, and genetics for strong pups. Omegas were to exist in silence, in the background of alpha’s lives, making themselves known when they were needed or wanted. After years of preaching this new, progressive way of thinking, the Commandant had laws implemented to restrict the liberties of omegas. Only alphas were competent enough to hold office within their new government. All for the greater good, he said. Many agreed. Harry agreed.

Even though every hair was in place as per usual, Harry ran an anxious hand through it again, just in case. He straightened the high neck of his black coat, buttoned fully to conceal any unnecessarily exposed skin. He knocked gently on the open door frame of his father’s study, waiting for permission to enter. 

“Come in,” he heard from inside. His father looked up at him yet no expression passed over his face — as if he were a faceless stranger, an ant, a bother. As quickly as he had looked up, his father’s attention was directed back to the work in front of him. “Do you need something?” the Commandant asked, not looking up.

Harry stood, knees locked and head held high. His appearance was pristine; hands clasped behind his back in a military stance he’d perfected during his time served. “You said there was something we needed to discuss, sir.”

“You know, Harry, you’ve always been a bit of a disappointment to me,” the Commandant said without preamble as he thumbed through the documents spread across his desk. 

Harry remained quiet, standing as still as he possibly could, his face showing no sign of emotion. Just as he’d been taught. His hands clenched into fists behind his back as he repressed the instinctual and emotional reflexes of his body, begging him to react. It was like being a part of the military forces all over again, begrudgingly standing in a line of alphas —  stoic, a statue of obedience as they’d been berated, yelled at, undermined, and insulted. It was nothing he hadn’t experienced before, but it was never any easier being on the end of his father’s dismissive demeanor. He wanted to lunge forward, slam his hands on the desk before him, show him he wouldn’t take it any more. But, he knew better. He remained still, and calm. Forever the obedient soldier.  

Instead, he simply cleared his throat and nodded stiffly. His father raised his brow in silent approval before continuing. “Between your lack of time spent in the breeding facilities and your clear disinterest in anything to do with the work I’ve done during my leadership, the only thing you seem to have under your belt at this point is your military expertise. No alpha heirs to speak of, no governmental position. There would be no one but me to miss you when you are gone.”

It took everything within Harry not to physically recoil at the mention of the breeding facilities. Though the government sanctioned centers were necessary for reproduction, the idea of forcibly having to procreate with an omega turned his stomach. His father had established the program years back, when Harry had only been a child. Growing up, he had pretended to understand as his father preached his values to him. It was their duty as alphas to pass along their superior genes, and to create more of their kind. The omegas selected for the facilities were the best there was to offer, though according to the Commandant that wasn’t saying much. Regardless of their role in producing alphas, omegas had no place in positions of power or authority, and the Alphanian administration assured that they’d never be allowed to govern the nation in any form. 

The Commandant was right, as per usual. He was Harry’s father, and though Harry was not the product of the breeding facilities, he had never known the person that gave birth to him. When he was little, he used to ask about them often. After a lifetime of stern looks and harsh words from his father, he’d eventually given up. He told himself he didn’t care to know who they were, anyway. His father told him it wasn’t important, and that omegas were only ever needed for one thing. He was without any other parental figures or siblings. Most of his friends that he’d met during his stint in the military forces were either dead, or had moved away. His father was right; there was no one to miss him if he was gone.

Harry cleared his throat, already having mentally prepared his apology. It was far from the first time Harry had heard this speech before. The Commandant held up his hand, stopping him before he could even begin. “For once, your wasted time in the forces might actually be useful. I have a proposition for you.”

“Anything, father,” Harry said without hesitation. 

The Commandant looked over to him before returning his perpetually bored gaze back to the strategy board laid out on the large, wooden table positioned between them that ran almost the full length of the room. “Though you are not as versed in political matters as I’d hoped you’d be, I’m sure that even with your privileged ignorance you are aware of the problem that the Omega Uprising has caused for us.”

Harry shifted. “Yes, father.” 

“Their recent bombing of the Counselor’s mansion was the final straw, I’m afraid. Despite the fact that no one was hurt, that house contained plans for the further reconstructions of the government. We had detailed outlines of the action we’d be taking to eradicate uprisings, and they’ve assured us that we have to start over from the beginning. It’s all terribly frustrating. Such an inconvenience. We refuse to entertain their tantrums any longer,” he continued, casting a forlorn look out the west facing window, acting as if he was talking about a disappointing child rather than an organization that had been formed just to wipe out any and all laws and limitations that he passed during his time in office. 

Over the past year or so, it had seemed as if the freshly formed Omega Uprising had always been a step or two ahead of the Commandant and the rest of the reigning Alphanian officials. The idea had been floated that there must be someone working with them from the inside, reporting back to them on the government’s plans so that they could be prepared. That person had yet to be discovered, and the Commandant and his surrounding forces had finally had enough of this game of cat and mouse. Harry understood. He agreed. It needed to come to an end, one way or another. 

“Your job is to navigate their landscape and gain entry into their forces. You will pretend to be one of them and gain reliable intel for us. It’s clear that no one else has been capable of doing it, and you at least have some semblance of experience in this field. This has gone on for too long, Harry. Enough is enough.” He made direct eye contact with his son, holding it. “I’m counting on you.” 

Harry knew a response wasn’t necessary, but he nodded regardless. His father’s word was quite literally law, across the nation but especially when it came to his sole alpha heir. Whether Harry had agreed verbally or not, this was now the path of his foreseeable future. And he knew that this was what he had to do.

The plan was simple enough: infiltrate and report. “You’ll need to be in disguise, of course. We can’t have the rebels knowing your true identity, or they’d immediately take you hostage. You shouldn’t have a problem blending in with the proper wardrobe. Just act as if you’re in the company of friends, if you were to have any. Perhaps like if you were in the military again, surrounded by civilians or people of similar intelligence and status.”

After their conversation, Harry changed into the outfit his father’s advisors had suggested. Some battered, military issued pants, a tattered shirt, and a sturdy, industrial jacket for warmth in the desert at night. They were unsure of how long it would take to journey to the rebellion’s hideout, and had decided to err on the side of caution.

Along with a shift of clothes, they gave him only a knapsack to store some essentials. All he’d have with him on the trip was some non-perishable food, water, a dark blue bandana to block any exposed skin from the sun, and a small, easily transportable tracking device that fit inside the watch he always wore and would allow them to see where he was at all times. The tracker would give them exact coordinates once Harry had managed to find and infiltrate the rebellion’s hideout. 

“Hopefully it’ll be enough for you to reach their base,” his father said. He took Harry by the collar of the utility jacket he had on, yanking him close. Something grew in his father’s eyes that Harry hadn’t seen in years. With a thick hand, he patted his son on the side of his face. A swell of emotion welled behind Harry’s eyes, not used to this kind of display of affection. He held it together for his own sake. His father wouldn’t appreciate such an outburst of emotion.

The Commandant smiled, forced and tight, the expression coming across as unnatural with disuse. “For once in your life son, make me proud.”

⊗

Even though it had been years since Harry had served time in the military, he figured there could only be a few things he’d forgotten. How heavy the jacket was was one of them. As he trudged through the sand, the blaring heat of the desert sun beating down on him, he had half a mind to take the jacket off and drape it over his head to protect himself from exposure, but even the thought of that seemed like too much work. His legs were burning, and he was tired.

The tracking device he’d been given was only formatted with one way transmission, allowing his location to be broadcasted back to the capital but with no way to communicate. It was impossible for him to tell them how utterly exhausted he was after a day and a half of walking, and how he was almost out of water. The mere idea of disappointing his father was the only thing that kept his legs moving and his eyes open. His muscles cried for him to sit down, but his stubborn persistence wouldn’t allow a moment of rest, despite his body screaming for it. 

Shielding his eyes with his hands as a visor, he continued. He felt his dehydrated brain rattle against the confines of his skull with each footfall against the sandy ground. The bandana he had wrapped around his neck did little to protect it, and he felt the back of his neck beginning to sear with overexposure to the sun. The heat bloomed from his neck, spreading down the side of his throat and onto his covered chest. He stopped in his tracks, confused by the sensation. He’d had sun poisoning before, but it’d never felt quite like this. He reached back, feeling for the burnt back of his neck, and instead found something protruding from his spine. He yanked it from his skin, wincing once he realized what it was. A sedative dart.

He turned to look behind him, his vision already fading in and out, cloudy around the edges. Everything tunneled as his head swam and his body flushed, and he watched two blurred figures run towards him just as his knees gave out and his world went black.

⊗

“How could he have found us so easily?” a hushed, angry voice said. Harry came back to himself slowly, but made no move to show signs that he was conscious. 

“I don’t know, Zayn,” a different, calmer voice said with a sigh. “And, easily? Really? He looks half dead. I don’t think anything about finding us was easy for him.”

“He’s an alpha,” the first voice, Zayn, said by way of explanation. Harry didn’t dare open his eyes, but he assumed that he was being carried. No longer did he feel the heat from the sun, but instead was met with a fresh, damp chill in the air. It soothed his burnt skin and parched lungs. 

“So am I,” the second voice said. He laughed, then readjusted Harry in his hold. “And you’ve never had any complaints about that.”

“Shut it,” Zayn snapped, though there seemed to be a hint of embarrassment in his tone. “You know that’s not what I meant. I just mean…why is he here?”

The second voice grunted as he lowered Harry onto what felt to be a cushioned chair, leaving him lying limp. “I assume he’s here for the cause.” A bright light switched on, directed at Harry’s face. It turned the insides of his eyelids into colors from the sunset, and he did his best not to make a sound, he still had a little bit of time to spare before he needed to pretend to wake up. “Just need to wait until he regains consciousness. Reaper won’t be happy we brought him down here without vetting him.”

Zayn scoffed. “I mentioned that to you. About five times. You insisted.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the second voice said. The distinctive sound of a smacking kiss echoed in the quiet room. “You’re always right, I know.”

Harry figured that then was as good of a time as any to wake up. He rustled around, blinking groggily in the light of the heat lamp. The brightness of it blinded him to anyone or anything else in the room, making it hard for him to see who his captors—or saviors—actually were. The light clicked off, and he was met with an alpha nearly matching his size. If he hadn’t been able to tell from his stature alone, he’d know from the smell. It was distinct, sharp, musky, but blended with something softer and sweet. The dark featured omega behind him stepped into view, providing some semblance of explanation for their combined scents. They must be mated. Harry’s expression remained neutral, though this was his first time ever encountering a mated alpha and omega. 

“Where am I?” Harry asked, already knowing the answer. The patchwork insignia on their collars gave away the organization they belonged to. The capital O with a slash through it was nationally known. They tagged it in some form after every one of their hits. The Omega Uprising. He was exactly where he needed to be, directly in the belly of the beast. 

“How did you find us?” the omega asked, stepping in front of the alpha without so much as a glance. Harry’s brows shot up in surprise at the blatant act of insubordination. The brunet alpha seemed unfazed, watching from behind with his arms across his broad chest as his omega crowded Harry’s space to interrogate him. 

Harry turned his head slightly to the side, his expression confused as the omega got even closer. There was no logical explanation for it. Why did this apparently mated omega feel so comfortable invading his personal space? He was close enough for Harry to scent him, which was hardly appropriate in any setting. It turned Harry’s stomach, being so close. He suppressed the urge to turn his nose at the mixed scent of the mated pair. “What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I helped install the security measures myself. There’s no way you could’ve known our location, so I’ll ask you again: how the fuck did you find us? Who sent you?”

Harry raised his brow in carefully concealed shock. Time in the military and a childhood with a father like his taught him how to disguise his reactions very well. This was no exception, though he was surprised that someone, especially an omega, would ever have the courage to speak to him in such a manner. He reminded himself that here, as long as he could help it, he was anonymous. The last name Styles had no positive pull here, and hopefully no members of the Uprising would ever know his surname. 

“Zayn,” the large alpha warned from behind him. Zayn snapped his head to the side, glaring at his mate in silence. His attention turned back to Harry, his shoulders slightly more relaxed than they had been just moments before. Harry watched, eyes darting back and forth between the mates.

“I’ve been searching for your group for years,” Harry lied easily. “I knew the base was somewhere in the desert; I just didn’t know where. I’d had enough. I had my omega taken from me by the Vehrkan troops, and I needed to find solace. I didn’t know where else to turn. I—I had heard rumors, years ago. I decided it was time to find out if they were true. I just didn’t know that you were…” Harry looked around, seeing the stone walls and the damp soil lining the edges of the floor. There was no way he was unconscious long enough to be in a completely different area of the world. There was only one explanation if they were still in the desert. He resisted the urge to touch his tracker, and see exactly where he was, but he had an overwhelming suspicion that they were underground. 

Though his explanation had no backing and wasn’t very thought out, it seemed to ease Zayn’s doubts for the time being. He relaxed further, breathing out a sigh and pushing his hair out of his face. “I’m sorry to hear about your mate. I’m sure we’ll—” he glanced to his mate quickly, “—welcome you with open arms. We just need to get you vetted first.”

“Vetted?” Harry said, sitting up straighter. The alpha moved closer towards Zayn in a natural act of protection. Harry assumed from his demeanor alone that he would find that Zayn’s mate was part of their defensive forces. “What does that mean?”

Zayn gestured for him to stand, and despite the fact that he’d never had an omega order him around in any way, he resisted turning his nose up at him and obliged. “It’s an intensive interrogation process that’ll assure us and our leader that you are here for the right reasons. We don’t want to risk anyone with malicious intent slipping through any cracks.”

“Come on,” Zayn’s mate said, nodding towards the door, arms still crossed over his chest. “You made it just in time for your first assembly.”

The way through the tunnel-like system that had been dug out under the ground was intricate. The tunnels, so to speak, were easily the size of the large, opulent foyer in the Grand Hall. Undoubtedly equal in size, but not so much in luxury. Everything seemed minimal, but functional. There was no level of extravagance running through these self-made halls, but they had technology, electricity, sturdy architecture. He wondered how they had managed, and how long it took to bring an idea like this to life. From his brief look around the room he awoke in, he could tell that the rebellion had some kind of means; whether that was through robbery, income, or donations, there was someone, or some group of people, sponsoring them. Harry was sure that he’d lose his way at least once if he spent any kind of significant time down here.

The large alpha leaned over to teasingly nudge his omega companion beside him as they led Harry to the assembly. “Liam,” Zayn chastised softly. Normal ears might not have picked it up, but Harry’s alpha hearing detected it no problem. The fact that they were actually mated confused him more than he would care to admit. His father had always said mating with an omega was unnecessary, disgusting even. 

Mating with an omega, bonding to them for life, was demeaning. He was taught that that kind of connection, a life bond, weakened you mentally. Everything they felt, you felt. On a deeper level that someone couldn’t understand without having experienced it. To break it was to risk an illness that had most people wishing for death — to avoid it all together was the smarter option. Being that connected to an omega wasn’t something that any alpha should ever have to lower himself to. Harry almost felt sorry for the mates, but they did it to themselves, and they didn’t deserve his pity. 

They stopped at a series of double doors, and Zayn reached for the closest and yanked it open. The assembly hall was exactly as it sounded, complete with at least a couple hundred seats, as well as a stage area up front for a presenter. A voice enhancer sat abandoned off to the side, waiting to be used. 

“Find a seat in the front and make sure you pay attention,” Zayn said to Harry as he walked in. Harry nodded absently, still taking it all in. It wasn’t much, but it was still incredible what they’d made for themselves down here. Soon after he slid into a seat off to the side, members started filing in.

Excited chatter followed each attendee, and it seemed that assemblies weren’t an everyday occasion. Perhaps they only came with news, good or bad. Harry wished the tracking device had a voice transmitter so that his father back in Vehrka could hear what these people had to say. 

The auditorium was filled faster than he’d expected, and taking a look around he figured that there was no way that the small quantity of people in this room were all of the people that lived and worked amongst the rebellion. 

The chair next to him jostled as a beta sat down, practically brimming with emotion. “Hi,” he said happily, reaching his hand out for Harry to shake. “Niall. Been here a few years now. You look new. Never seen your face around here.”

Harry was sure he looked dumbfounded, mostly because this beta was talking approximately five thousands miles a minute. Niall smiled, probably used to this kind of reaction, because he follows up his impromptu introduction with a, “Sorry, I’m just excited. I heard we ended up making off with a good bit after we took the Counselor’s place.” 

Harry bristled, but smiled tightly. “Harry,” he said by way of introduction. Niall smiled back, not seeming to notice.

“Reaper should be in any minute now. Just wait until you hear him. So inspiring, he is. He’s one of the main reasons I joined the Uprising. Obviously it’s for the greater good. The cause is important, and I would’ve supported it either way but,” he paused. “His words are really powerful. He was meant to lead, you know?”

“Reaper’s quite the name,” Harry mused. “Is that his actual name, or more like a title?”

Niall thought on it for a moment. “Neither, I suppose? More like a given name. He’s not like Reaper Smith, or anything like that. But you also wouldn’t address him as the Commandant, or a doctor. He picked it, and we all respect that. I don’t even think anyone’s even thought to ask. Even if they did, I doubt he’d tell them.” 

“So, I call him Mr. Reaper, or?” Harry asked.

Niall laughed, louder and more aggressively than what may be considered appropriate for their current venue. “Just Reaper works. I’m sure he’ll tell you if he decides he prefers anything else.”

Harry shifted in his seat, beginning to feel antsy. “How old is he?”

Niall didn’t miss a beat. “How old are you?”

Harry’s brow furrowed, posture tense and mind on edge. Logically, he knew that he should give out as little personal information as possible, but he also knew it would be suspicious to refuse to answer. He cleared his throat. “Thirty.”

“Hey, so am I!” Niall relaxed back into the seat, draping his arms over the backs of the chairs on either side of him. Harry stiffened, shifting away from the strange beta as he moved far too close into Harry’s space for comfort. “Reaper is probably somewhere around our age, though there’s really no way to tell. In the years that I’ve known him, I swear he hasn’t aged. That man is aging in reverse or something, I swear.”

Harry snorted, shaking his head. He found himself caught somewhere between detachment and defense. Years of training, experience, and teachings had forced him to keep his guard up. He was alone, in enemy territory, with no one to trust. Niall displayed the same energy as a puppy bounding up to him and enthusiastically licking his face. It was almost welcome in a place like this, with no one else to turn to, knowing that someone was already trying to be his friend.

It was also unsettling. His way of life, his upbringing, rejected everything about his current surroundings. As friendly as Niall was being, he was part of the problem. Harry reminded himself of that before allowing himself to get too comfortable. 

Niall smiled. “I know. He looks like he’s about ten years younger than us, truly. I only guess he’s around our age because of some things he’s referenced. It’s honestly just a guess.”

“Thirty is a bit young to be the head of a movement against the government, don’t you think?” Harry slid in, hoping that his expression was as casual as he sounded.

Niall didn’t even take a second to think about it. He just shrugged, the movement stunted by his outstretched arms. “Just because you’re young doesn’t mean that you’re wrong.”

Harry didn’t have much to say to that. He supposed he made a point, but couldn’t be bothered to think too much about it. Feedback from the voice enhancer screeched throughout the hall, causing everyone to shy away from the harsh noise. “Sorry,” a soft, delicate voice laughed through the speaker. “My fault, my fault.”

The voice matched his face perfectly. Harry sat up straighter as he noticed who was speaking; he’d seen footage of this man in action. But even without the skull mask that covered the lower half of his face and his hood up, nearly covering his eyes as he attacked countless government officials, there was absolutely no mistaking who was standing up on that stage.

From the footage he was shown back in Vehrka, Harry never would’ve guessed that he was an omega. How could he, considering that this man was the very person opposing organizations, and alpha rights groups that worked only in acts of violence? Yet each time, he countered them, each of them, with terrifying accuracy and inhuman determination and strength. 

But now, from his appearance alone, being this close up and without his disguise to mask his features and scent, it was enough to undoubtedly confirm his secondary gender. He sat at a less than average height, showing that he was most likely not a beta or an alpha, though it wasn’t unheard of. Just rare. But the curves are what truly gave it away. His figure was unreal. Breathtaking. His hips dipped at the perfect spot for two, big hands to wrap around his waist. Harry’s could easily encompass the entire width of his waistline without even trying. He shook his head, hoping the movement would rattle away the thoughts as well, finding it harder to focus.

“Thank you all for finding the time to make your way back to us for this debriefing of our recent raid of the Counselor’s mansion. Now, I know,” he said with a smile, his last few words nearly engulfed with the deafening applause, “I know, I know. It truly was a victory. And as some of you already know, we managed to grab a list of omegas they had sniffed out in order to recruit them for the breeding facilities.” The applause grew even louder. Harry was concerned that the fragile walls of the tunnels underground wouldn’t be able to withstand the sound.

“Those incredibly strong people now have protective duty on them all the time. We’ll do whatever we can to prevent them from being exported into the lifetime sexual slavery to those vile breeding facilities. T, O, U!”

“T, O, U!” the crowd echoed back at full force, and Harry was suddenly deeply distressed and convinced that he’d infiltrated a cult. Sexual slavery? Sure, Harry didn’t frequent the facilities or even agree that they were just, but the way these people were chanting and hanging on to every word that Reaper said was terrifying. They were absolutely deluded, feeding into the lies that Reaper so easily spun for them. When everything was said in done the truth was that omegas were born to carry alpha pups. They knew nothing.

Everything that he was hearing was nonsense, and he wasn’t able to gather how everyone was so enraptured with everything that this omega said. He was undoubtedly attractive, but looks only got someone so far. It’s like they blindly believed everything they were told. He could only imagine what his father would think, or even do for that matter, if he were here right now. 

He decided it was best to not comment on anything radical that Reaper had mentioned. He needed to play the part, and act like he was one of them. “You’re allowed to leave?” he asked softly as he leaned over to Niall. 

“Of course we are,” Niall said, leaning back, almost smashing their heads together. “Most of the members don’t even live here.”

“Most?” Harry asked quietly. He turned around to look at the expanse of the room. Though it was small, it was still probably a little less than two-hundred people. “How many are there?”

Niall mimicked Harry’s movement to look behind them and then shrugged. “Probably a quarter of a million? Something like that?”

“What?” Harry shouted. The hall fell silent.

Everyone was staring at him. He cleared his throat, panic setting in as he realized everyone’s attention was focused on him. Including Reaper’s. “I mean, what!” he tried ecstatically with a manic smile. Fuck, fuck, fuck, think! Think fast, adapt to survive. He stood up, pumping his fist in the air as he chanted, “T, O, U!” 

“T, O, U!” someone responded from the back of the hall. The answering chant started a chain reaction, and suddenly the entire assembly hall was chanting their title once more. The room shook with a force Harry had never known. He could feel it in his bones, in his soul. It meant nothing to him, but it reverberated within him the same. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel it. The Omega Uprising. He opened them, met with a grinning Niall. 

A quarter of a million members. They’d never been under the impression that they had such strong numbers behind their cause. He wished now more than ever that his tracker had communication abilities. His father needed to know about this. Niall was brimming with energy, happiness exuding from every inch of him, ready to chatter on. Harry interrupted him before he ever had the chance to start again. “Do you have a mail room?”

Niall looked taken aback at the sudden change in subject, but no less thrilled. “Yeah, Annie runs it actually. You’ll love her, she’s like everyone’s big sister. She’s very prompt, everything goes out on time, takes her job very seriously and all that. That’s how I communicate with my parents, actually. Why, need to send someone something?”

Harry nodded. That’s exactly what he needed to do. The Commandant had made him promise that he’d find a way to report back to them. A two way vocal transmitter was too irresponsible to bring along, risking being detected by the abnormal sound waves it would admit. His father wasn’t willing to risk the punishment he’d be inflicted in the case that he was found out. The small, undetectable tracking device was the most that they could do, and now they were unknowingly paying the consequences for it.

“Need to send my mum a letter,” he explained, the lie sliding easily through his teeth. He figured that the less factual information out there about him, the better. 

“I’ll show you tomorrow,” Niall promised loudly, trying to talk over the loud chattering around them. 

Harry had somehow managed to miss the majority of Reaper’s speech, which he didn’t truly mind. It’s not like he had many things of importance to say, anyway. 

Zayn walked into the stage area, rounding on Reaper. From the trained eye, it seemed that he was the second in command. He leaned over to Reaper’s side. “I don’t trust the new alpha,” he said to him, not even bothering to disguise his voice in a whisper. It took no strain at all for Harry to pick up the words, even over the clatter of the rest of the attendees in the small assembly hall. 

Harry glanced in their direction, only to find them both already staring directly at him. Instinctually, his body refused to break their stare, yet he knew to look away first lest he unintentionally reveal his disloyalty to the fundamental beliefs of the Uprising. The rebels next to him babbled excitedly to each other about what life would be like when they could live freely. They didn’t know how good the government had it set up for them. Being surrounded by the members of the Omega Uprising just highlighted how ungrateful the people of this country were for the successful programs the Alphanian government had implemented.

“You’re staying here, right? I can show you to your room. I think you’ll be on the same block that I am!” Niall said excitedly, leading Harry towards the exit of the assembly hall without looking back. 

Four right turns and two lefts later, Harry was cozy in bed in his new room. For now. The housing was nothing he’d ever been used to, but the duvet was warm and kept him cozy, and the blanketed weight on top of him was the only thing he ever really required to get a good night's sleep. That night, he stared at the wood beamed ceiling for what felt like hours, every possible tragic outcome of his mission chasing his sleep further and further away. 

As he had walked endlessly in the desert, he would have given anything for a soft and clean bed. But now, it was not nearly as comforting as he imagined. Laying there, he felt too big for his own skin, he itched to walk around and learn more about his new surroundings. Tempting his fate, and unwilling to let his own thoughts hound him any further, he dressed in something warm and headed out, grabbing a candle from the side table and striking a match to light it. He locked his door behind him with the pad of his thumb, and walked blindly into the scarcely lit tunnels, using only his senses and candlelight to guide his way. 

A dim lining of lights ran along either side of the wide-set halls, marking the paths throughout the tunnels. Harry followed, not really looking for anything in particular. He just wanted to figure out his way around, uncomfortable with going into any situation as blind as he had. Soft sounds of little children froze him in his tracks. 

Their little voices bounced eerily off of the worn, stone halls. Harry’s naturally sensitive ears picked up the soft sounds of laughter amongst the pups.

Harry turned a corner, following the sound, freezing the moment he saw an unexpected figure standing amongst the small crowd. The flame of their candle swayed with movement, throwing tiny shadows across the walls. The figure holding the flame stood to their full height, and Harry nearly stepped back in surprise. He hadn’t realized anyone but children had been playing down in this area of the caverns.

The shadow gestured wildly, speaking in hushed tones, one hand coming to rest on a large, solid black mass that was settled next to them. Their voice was too quiet to recognize, and their scent was muted, like something was blocking their scent gland from the open air, making them more difficult to identify. Harry cocked his head to the side in slight confusion, trying to place the silhouette just from the brief, distracted, scan of people he’d seen in the assembly. The person was big enough to not be another child, but their stature wasn’t tall enough to be a threat. At least, not to Harry.

Before he was even able to take another step closer, he was frozen in his tracks by the sound of the shadow’s unfamiliar voice. Harry’s first thought was: it doesn’t sound human. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and his alpha hackles bristled. The voice hardly even sounded like a voice — it came out like gravel crunching beneath boots, claws scraping down the metal siding along the tunnels, like a machine speaking on someone else’s behalf. It was horrifying, and whatever it was had managed to corner this group of children into an isolated area of the tunnels. Even Harry was terrified on their behalf.

What was even more confusing was that the children burst into laughter at the sound. He could hardly even make out what the slight figure was saying to them, too focused on the fact that these pups hadn’t registered the fact that they were putting themselves at risk being near whatever this thing was that had captured their attention. The person then dropped into a squat, leveling themselves with the children’s height, holding something up to one of their giggling mouths, quickly turning the happy, gleeful sound of their laughter into something from a night terror. 

Perplexed, Harry stepped closer, a low growling rumbling out of the black mass next to the crouched shadow. Bright yellow, gleaming eyes locked Harry in place, daring him to move closer. As it stepped towards the light of his flame, Harry was able to easily see the wolf’s teeth flashing in anger towards him. Fueled by his now-pumping adrenaline, Harry realized that — to the animal — he was the threat in this situation. Harry froze despite the urging from his inner alpha, begging him to assert his dominance over the wolf, still steadily advancing towards him. Undeterred, the wolf pushed further into his space, ready to attack once given the command.

“Enough, Echo,” Reaper’s distinctive voice loudly called out to the wolf. Harry’s eyes flickered from the animal to the omega, the sudden turn of Reaper’s head towards Harry sending a wave of his scent in the alpha’s direction. He inhaled subtly, cataloging the omega’s fragrance to his memory. When Reaper pulled the device from the child’s face, which was met with a chorus of disappointed groans, the alpha realized that it was the infamous mask that covered the lower half of Reaper’s face whenever he left the compound. It bore resemblance to the lower half of a skull, complete with carved out cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Where a mouth should be was only large slits, which must’ve been equipped with a device to disguise his voice, concealing his recognizable tone. It was a smart move, for an omega. Especially the one leading the rebellion against the ruling Alphanian government.

The wolf, Echo, huffed, glancing up to Reaper in stubborn obedience, plopping back down to sit. Even while sitting he was over half the height of Reaper, and overall contributed an even more threatening addition to Reaper’s already authoritative persona.

“Harry,” Reaper greeted with casual indifference. His posture gave nothing away, seemingly at ease with the fact that a rather large, stranger of an alpha had joined him and a group of pups in a rather dark, isolated area underground. For a lone omega, he didn’t appear threatened even in the slightest, and Harry wondered if that was from the confidence he held in his own abilities to defend himself, or in the wolf seated next to him. Reaper’s eyebrow peaked as he said, “Can we help you?”

Harry didn’t even bother asking how he knew his name. He hesitated in replying, a slight panic bristling him and throwing him off as he mentally bounced back and forth between making up some absurd excuse for his presence or just flat out telling the truth. Thankfully, his internal monologue never crossed his stony features, even as he almost went ahead and blurted out, oh, I’m just trying to overhear any plans of the destruction of the government, that’s all. Carry on. 

He settled on, “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere.” Stalactites of hot wax dripped from the candle onto his fingers, but he didn’t even flinch, holding Reaper’s gaze steadily. The silence between them was close to deafening, unspoken tension radiating between two people that mutually distrusted the other. Harry could detect a subtle shift in Reaper’s scent the longer they glared at each other. 

Reaper eventually broke the spell, turning his attention back to the kids, returning back to his comforting, crouched position. Harry noticed how he made it so easy for them to be comfortable around him, like any good omega would. Maternal instincts ran high in omegas, and the affection that accompanied the biology seemed to be universal. 

“Time for bed, I suspect,” Reaper said with a small smile. He handed his own candle to the tallest of the kids, putting them in charge of making sure everyone got back to their own nursery safely. “It’s getting late. Run along now, you lot. Echo will go with you.” Harry raised an eyebrow slightly, shocked that the omega would so freely send away his protection from him without a second thought. Though the fact that the wolf would accompany them seemed to raise spirits amongst the pups just a bit, and Harry assumed it must’ve been a routine between them. 

Echo started to corral the children with just a nodding command from Reaper. He shuffled them towards the direction they were meant to head, shooting a quick glare at Harry, protective. Harry watched as the pups and wolf trailed down the hallway from which he came, a couple of the kids casting small waves in his direction. Once their little, marching figures were enveloped in the darkness, he looked back to the omega. 

“You said you took a wrong turn, did you?” Reaper asked, clearly suspicious. Harry didn’t blame him. He should be.

Harry nodded, moving closer. “Must’ve, yeah. And usually I’m so good with directions.”

Reaper appraised him silently before shaking his head. “Your room is back that way,” he nodded towards where the children had been led off to. “All of the lodging is that way, actually. Can’t imagine how you ended up over here.”

Something small and shiny glistened in Reaper’s hand, his fist wrapped around it tight enough that Harry wasn’t able to identify what it was. Harry nodded and thanked him, helplessly noting the sharpness that had woven itself through the edges of Reaper’s natural scent. It permeated the air around him, potent and heavy, but Harry wasn’t familiar enough with him to recognize what it was. Fear, maybe. Anger. He wasn’t sure. He turned back towards where he was directed, the candle still firmly in his grasp. 

“I would be careful if I were you,” he heard from behind him. The voice was equal parts melodic and threatening, the words coming out as a helpful suggestion with a current of malice running beneath them. 

Harry turned slowly, and Reaper continued. “People tend to get lost down here, in the tunnels.”

“People get lost?” Harry asked, eyes flickering down just quick enough to catch the swift glint of a switch blade being sheathed inside of the omega’s pocket. Harry realized that Echo was just one layer of the protection Reaper surrounded himself with. His eyes darted back to Reaper, doing his best to assess the amount of danger in this situation. It seemed ridiculous when he thought of it, the fact that he could potentially be in harm’s way due to this little omega. But, he had been there when he heard Reaper speak, and it seemed there was little that this man wouldn’t do to achieve the results he wanted. 

Reaper shrugged, the entirety of his lithe frame shifting along with the movement. He looked casual, as if he were commenting on the weather. “Get lost, vanish completely. Same thing, right?” He stepped closer, and Harry fought every instinct he had not to take a step back. Reaper smiled. “Nothing a big, strong Alpha like you couldn’t handle, I’m sure.”

Harry’s brow hardened, realizing that Reaper was only mocking him. He stood straighter, letting out an indignant huff. “I’m sure,” he repeated sourly, giving Reaper a once over before turning to leave.

“Wait, Harry,” Reaper said from behind him, a small hand wrapping around his upper arm, bringing him to a stop. 

Harry was still turned to head in the direction to leave, facing away from Reaper. He felt his arm flex beneath Reaper’s hold, and a small, smug smirk slid across his mouth. Just like a weak minded omega to backpedal when they get out of line, he thought. He glanced over his shoulder, his interest peaked. “Hm?”

Reaper moved closer, something akin to regret on his face. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed a fraction before he let himself fall back into the role his father had cast him in. “That’s quite the understatement. I’m sure having someone in your ear all the time doesn’t make anything any easier.”

The omega’s face twisted into one of confusion, his brows knitted tight and his nose scrunching as he thought. “Zayn?”

Harry nodded.

Reaper laughed softly, shaking his head. “No. Well—I suppose he’d be considered our second-in-command. But, he’s just protective of me. He means well.”

Harry grimaces, hoping that the expression looks somewhat neutral. “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t,” Reaper answered. “I’m sorry. I’m—It’s my job to be naturally suspicious of everyone when I meet them. And while that will remain true until you prove I can trust you, you don’t deserve aggression, either. It takes time, but everyone earns their place. Trust is earned with me.” 

Harry nodded, understanding to a degree. Having been raised in such a political environment for the majority of his life, he knew how hard it could be to trust new people. “I’m sure it’s hard, for an omega. Trying to be in charge of so much. Being a leader.”

At his words, any trace of softness left Reaper’s face. “No. Actually, it’s not hard at all. I’d say it comes quite naturally to me.”

Harry hummed, not fully believing him. It was common sense knowing that alphas were superior to omegas in every way, including intellectually. Arguing didn’t seem like a smart move when he was trying so desperately to blend in, so instead he smirked and quirked a brow down at Reaper.

Unimpressed, the scrappy little omega’s expression didn’t lessen. “Come with me,” he said, beginning to walk down one of the dark tunnels towards Harry’s living quarters, not even bothering to look behind him to see if Harry was following. The move was such a confident display of dominance that Harry stayed frozen for a moment too long, finally jogging to catch up with him. 

“An escort back to my room? What’ve I done to deserve the pleasure?”

“We’re going to take a detour first. In honor of your first night here. I’ll show you my favorite spot.” He glanced over to Harry. “It’s not something I show everyone.”

The tunnels were silent as the grave except for the echoes of their footsteps throughout the stone-laden halls. Reaper led them off towards a heavy, wooden doorway tucked away in an alcove of the wall. He unlocked the antiquated lock with a bass key he pulled from his pocket, and yanked the door open, the wood heavy and solid but untouched from weather. It opened up to a stairwell. Reaper gestured Harry to go ahead of him, then locking the door behind him, moving quickly in front of Harry to lead the way. 

The stairs were winding and narrow all the way up to the top, where they led directly up into the high point of the wall, leaving them nowhere to go but up. An old, circular wooden door was cut into the ceiling that Reaper unlocked by using the same key as before. He shoved his full weight against the door above them, opening it. Sand trickled in from the sides of the open hatch, kicked up and moved by the wind. Reaper walked up the remainder of the stairs and out of the door, glancing back to gesture for Harry to follow. 

They were outside, up on one of the plateaus that were scattered amongst the desert. It overlooked the sea of sand that Harry had tracked across. He wondered if they’d watched him struggle from up here before deciding to show him mercy. 

They were wordless, letting the sounds of the desert at night serenade them. “The tunnels run all the way out there,” Reaper finally said, gesturing off a few miles away, near the horizon. “Ends around that tree, not sure if you can see it. We tend to grow stuff over on that side.”

Harry’s brows shot up. “Grow stuff? Like, food? Underground? How?”

Reaper turned to him, eyes crinkling in a laugh. “Of course I mean food. Honestly, Niall is better with the details. A genius, that man is. He’s managed to create a completely self-sufficient ecosystem for us. We only have to rely on ourselves to survive. We don’t have to ever come back up, if we don’t want to.” His voice trailed off as his eyes flitted along the skyline. 

“But you want to,” Harry realized.

Reaper nodded. “I want to. I know I’m not alone. We could make a difference for the better. I know we could. The oppressive system in place is debilitating, which you already know. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Harry shifted to the side, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. The truth was bleeding from his pores, but he wouldn’t dare speak those words out loud. “Right,” he said instead. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

A soft trudging of footfalls came from behind them both. Harry turned quickly, shocked that he’d be lost in the conversation enough to not hear someone approaching them from behind. Echo nudged the hatch open with a push of his huge head, the wooden door slamming into the earth. The wolf glanced towards Harry with a quick, dismissive growl. Harry’s mouth parted just slightly, still in disbelief. 

He realized he found it too easy to get wrapped up in Reaper’s words, in the desert night, in the fantasy that this wasn’t a total lie. Reaper had about as much trust for him as he had for the omega, and yet they were out here in the middle of the night, talking as easily as old friends. The reality of this assignment might be that faking it wouldn’t be as hard as he originally thought. He could fall into this, into the fake friendship, allow it to blossom and swell in the way that clearly came naturally to them.

Reaper said softly, “Sometimes I forget that this idea that I had, this little idea to rebel against what was wrong in our society, created an empire that runs all the way to the horizon. Dozens of miles of allies, all beneath the ground. It’s more than I ever dreamed to be possible.” 

Both alpha and omega fell into an easy silence, taking in their surroundings. Reaper breathed in the outside air, and Echo plopped down with a quiet huff next to him, relaxed. It was clear that this was a place that they frequented, that even out here, exposed and not concealed by the security of the earth beneath his feet, Reaper was comfortable. Harry wondered to himself how Reaper could’ve managed to coerce so many people to become part of the Uprising. An unwelcome uncertainty prickled beneath his skin. How could so many people support such radical ideals? He shook his head in disbelief, the doubts shaken away with it.

“A kingdom underground,” Harry mused to himself. And despite everything, he smiled. “This reminds me of that one movie. You know? The animated one with the lion that’ll one day be king. His father shows him the boundaries of their kingdom while they’re sitting on a ledge, kind of like this one. He tells him it reaches everywhere the light touches.”

Reaper looked over at him, amused. “Royal lions? Like the animal?” Harry nodded, and Reaper laughed. “No, I’ve never seen that. Haven’t ever seen a movie, actually.”

Harry’s brow shot upwards in surprise. “Never?”

Reaper shook his head. “We weren’t raised with much access to advanced technology, and we definitely weren’t given restored ancient technology. Didn’t have the means for it, really. Too expensive for our family. The closest thing I’ve seen to a movie is the governmental announcements that would pop up on our small, old, security screen by the door at home. Even electricity in general was a luxury to us. We got a total of seven days a month from the government, the rest of our light and warmth was provided by candles, fires. That sort of thing, you know?” Harry didn’t dare speak. “The screen was the only thing that stayed on all the time. We never had control over that, of course. They had to make sure they could reach us at all times. Let us know about any new laws or mandates controlling our lives, and bodies.” 

“Oh,” Harry said softly. The silence filled the sound once more, their difference in upbringings stared back at Harry’s unrelentingly loyal Vehrkan pride with unwelcomed hostility. Not only were they each on either ends of the gender spectrum, but their social standings amongst society were also polar opposites. As such he’d never given much thought to the fact that the things he had easy access to in his life wasn’t a universal truth in others lives. He knew he had grown up privileged, but had never even scraped at the idea of just how privileged he was. He was the Commandant’s son. He had wanted for nothing. 

And from the sound of it, Reaper’s family didn’t have anything.

“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds,” Reaper said softly into the night. “We had each other, until we didn’t. We might’ve been bad off, but we were a strong unit. Always close.” 

Harry’s lips curved into a ghost of a smile, just at the thought of a strong family unit. He had wanted for nothing material in his life, everything he could ever desire just a command away. But, the one thing he’d never had was a family.

Reaper looked over to him. “They were taken from me, you know?” 

Harry shook his head, and even Echo’s head popped up in question, letting out a soft whine as he nuzzled into Reaper’s leg. Reaper squatted down, eager to comfort his canine companion. He scratched behind his ear until he calmed, laying his head back on his large paws.

“I’m sure you do since you’re from around Vehrka,” Reaper continued. He spoke casually, nostalgia in his voice, yet he didn’t sound angry anymore. He accepted what happened, even if he didn’t like it. “The Commandant likes to refer to me as the one that got away to anyone who will listen.”

Hues of deep purple and light red illuminated the horizon, accompanying the slowly rising sun. Without the cues from the sky, Harry would’ve never known that they’d been up all night. He felt wired, like his senses were alight with a fresh flame, like he could run around the globe twice and still not be tired. The more he discovered about Reaper, this omega he’d known for less time than it takes for the Earth to rotate around its axis, the brighter he felt. 

It was disturbing to hear that phrase again, especially in this context. The one that got away. He’d heard the story countless times from his father, before he became too busy to raise his only son. 

In his father’s version, the hero of the story slayed the evil people keeping the perfect little omega captive. Once he rid the world of them, he was able to finally be united with the omega that would help establish the breeding facilities. The little one that inspired the idea just from a glance. The hero knew he needed to have him, and wanted to make superior offspring with the one that got away. But, he couldn’t. After he killed his captors, he slunk away in the night, too afraid of the hero’s dominance and virility. Harry had always been told that alpha and omega would be united once more, and would finally breed the perfect lineage of heirs.

After a while, the Commandant stopped telling the story with such fondness. And when he did, his father’s voice hardened with resentment and disgust. The one that got away was no longer the ideal omega mate. Eventually, the story turned into one of good versus evil. The one that got away wasn’t an innocent little omega anymore, but instead, he was the enemy. The person advocating against everything that the Commandant and the Alphanian government stood for. This was how Harry had been raised to perceive him.

He was the enemy, but he was to be desired. Now, standing right here next to him, watching the wind whip his loose hair around his face, his blue eyes on the line where the sky meets the soil, Harry wasn’t sure he could be so bad. 

“They went down fighting, that’s for sure,” Reaper said with a sad, affectionate laugh. His words were lost in another lifetime, eyes swimming and blue. “My mother made sure I had enough time to escape. We knew they were coming for me, there had been signs before. We realized too late that the systems in our house had been tracked to find my location. The breeding facilities had just been established. At that point it was more than enough time to get an abundant breeding career out of me…I was only thirteen.”

Harry felt sick. 

“I’m sure you know the rest,” Reaper continued, as if he wasn’t explaining insurmountable trauma from his life. “I became the most wanted person in the country. Pictures of my face plastered on every corner. I had had enough after a while.” He stood to his full height, and Echo glanced up at him longingly from the ground. Reaper looked down at him with a fond smile. “I was tired of hiding, and for once in my life, I was ready to live. I had to do something.”

Harry nodded again, shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. The edges of the horizon had turned a deep red at this point, the color of blood. It bled into the blackness of the residual night, where a remnant of scattered starlight could still be seen. He had never heard this version of the story before.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry said, his low voice rolling from between his lips, honey and gravel. “What does your name mean?”

Reaper smirked. His brow quirked just a little in amusement like he’d just been told a secret. “Long ago, I decided I’d be his reaper. That it would be me that would decide when and how he died.” His smile dropped only a little as he said, “I’d make sure of it.”

“I might not trust you,” Reaper continued softly. “But, I’m glad you’re here. Something shifted when you got here. The energy among us. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something we needed.”

Harry didn’t know how to feel. Nothing about it felt right, moving into this space, this haven, under the mirage that he wanted to be one of them. But, his loyalty to his father and the government ran deeper than any semblance of guilt that he may feel. He was here to put an end to the cause, and he’d do just that.

“I appreciate it,” he whispered, his soft breath huffing out in a small cloud of steam. 

The cold, desert wind swirled around them, rustling against the brush sprouting from the fertile ground, kicking up the sand. Harry looked at the omega and gave him a half-smile. He didn’t trust himself to speak another word, afraid somehow of giving away his position as an informant. 

The alpha closed his eyes, taking it all in. The breeze was cooler than he expected from such a wasteland. He’d come here expecting to be surrounded with death, and depravity. Instead, he’d only been met with hope. Life. The wind was unforgiving against his exposed face, but wrapped in the desert air, it felt like one of the kindest embraces he’d ever felt. He let out a deep sigh. He could almost hear Reaper smile beside him.

“It’s not what you were expecting, is it?” Reaper asked softly. Harry shook his head, opening his eyes. The view in front of them was no less stunning than it had been moments before. The moon sat full and bright a little above the jagged horizon, still visible even with the rising sun. “It never is,” he continued, crossing his arms in front of him.

The brief peace they’d manufactured with each other was broken with a sharp, sudden sound. The hatch they’d come through was cracked open, a shine of light streaming from inside, spilling over the ground.

Reaper turned quickly, hand to the holster on his hip in immediate defense. Liam’s head popped up from the ground, his flexed arm holding the camouflaged door up above his head. 

“Boss,” he said, looking directly towards Reaper. His eyes darted questioningly over to Harry, his face contorting into one of confusion but refusing to further acknowledge the fact that the rebellion’s newest member was out here, alone, with their founder. “It’s time.”

Reaper grinned, a different kind of determination coloring his eyes. Harry knew that look, he’d seen it a million times in people of power. “Time to remind him that I haven’t forgotten,” he smiled towards Liam, grabbing his half-skull mask from his belt and sliding it over the lower half of his face. He slapped his leather cuffs on his hands and wrists, protecting his arms from any exposure. He looked to Harry, and though Harry couldn’t see his entire face, he knew he wore a look of amusement. “That we haven’t forgotten,” he said, the mask working to alter his naturally higher-pitched voice into something mechanical and distorted.

Harry took a step back as both Reaper and Echo sprung into action, the wolf seeming to take Reaper putting on his mask as an unspoken signal. It’s like he knew that the second his master put the half-skull on, that they meant business.

“You can find your way back to your room without me, can’t you?” Reaper asked, his voice now a clear juxtaposition to his angelic face. Harry nodded, and just from the crinkles beside his eyes Harry knew that Reaper smiled. “Good. See you tomorrow,” he said before signaling Echo with a click of his mouth, leading him back into the tunnels by Liam’s direction. 

He nodded towards Harry before they all disappeared together underground, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts in the blistering silence of the impending sunrise.

⊗

“Rise and shine,” Niall shouted from the other side of his door. 

Harry rubbed at his eyes, having been shocked awake by the slamming of the beta’s fist on his door. “What time is it?” he asked groggily, voice still rough from sleep. 

“Around six. Come on, get dressed. You’re going to help me out in the fields today.”

Working in the fields with Niall wasn’t anything like he’d expected. The journey through the tunnels to the fields was in no means short, but it was nice to breathe in the fresh, rich scent of the soil lining the intricate walls of this underground city. Along their way, Niall made sure to show Harry the mail room and introduce him to Annie, the middle aged omega with stormy eyes and a bright smile. She enthusiastically showed him how their delivery system worked, explaining the cycle in which the letters were sent out and received. 

“Come by later with any letters you need to send, yeah? Won’t be a problem,” Annie had offered kindly with a smile.

The hours passed without issue, the broad, glass ceiling of the greenhouse that Niall had designed allowed for the telling of time by the movement of the sun. The ceiling only opened a few times a day for a couple of hours at a time to offer the crops some natural sunlight, while throughout the rest of the day the plant’s growth was promoted by the use of lights to stimulate the crops. 

Harry had lost track of the time as they worked, and Niall did his best to keep conversation going as they went. When Harry was left to his own devices, lost in his own thoughts, he realized that the reflective silence brought on by the repetitive work wasn’t as terrible as he’d expected. In the silence, he was able to compartmentalize his thoughts and work on exactly how and what he could say to his father in the letter he intended to send. He hoped to gather enough information from within, enough to cause the organization to collapse, sooner rather than later. He slammed the hand plow back into the ground, scraping away the soil just as Niall had shown him, shoving a bulb into the ground. 

Entirely engrossed in his work, dripping from the hot midday sun beating in through the open skylight, Harry nearly missed the soft, lilting voice of Reaper from across the field until the signature, sweet scent that followed him wafted into Harry’s senses. He turned around, still hunched over.

“Showing him the ropes?” Reaper called. He stood tall, arms crossed over his chest as he observed them working. He looked smug, like he’d won something. 

“Yeah, he’s a natural!” Niall shouted back from the other side of Harry, wiping the dirt off of his brow with a smile.

“Must be a big change of pace for you, working in a place like this.” Reaper began to slowly make his way over to them. “I’m sure you lived a much more comfortable life in Vehrka.”

Harry tried to not roll his eyes. He focused on the task in front of him, digging the plow back into the dirt. “It’s definitely different. But, it’s fascinating seeing how you do things down here.”

Reaper hums, suddenly right next to him. “Taking notes, are you?”

The sarcasm in his voice was obvious, but Harry made no move to react. It felt like a test of some kind, and he wouldn’t play any part of the temperamental experiment that Reaper was testing out. 

Harry glanced up to him, the brightness of the mid-day sun backlighting his head, casting a halo of light around him. He looked like a dark deity, and Harry was already on his knees.

Harry could sense rather than see when Niall’s smile dropped just slightly. The tension in the air was palpable, thick and heavy, and Harry looked away, unable to let him and his natural instincts react how he wanted to. The natural urge to grab Reaper and make him submit was shooting through his arms, tingling his fingertips. He wanted nothing more than to reach up and yank him down, bring him underneath him and show him exactly why he wasn’t to speak to him with such an attitude.

Reaper’s smell developed a sharper edge to it, dripping into the normal sweet warmth of his scent. Harry looked back up to him, curious. 

Harry sighed. “Something wrong?”

Reaper shrugged, and Niall stayed silent. “You tell me.”

He wondered what they’d run off to do last night after they left him up on the plateau. Had it been a meeting to discuss the arrival of Harry to the Uprising, or something else? Had intel been revealed exposing Harry for who he actually is? He wouldn’t allow any of these concerns to flash across his face. He felt a frustrated growl build up in his chest, just waiting to be let out.

“You still don’t trust me,” he said, frustrated and overheated. The sun was merciless, shining through the opened glass top ceiling. His shoulders were warmed and pink, freckles having appeared from the sun. His face felt flushed, nose and cheeks pink, and he was parched. This was the last conversation he wanted to be having right now. 

Reaper tutted. “Now, now, Harry. As I’m sure you remember, trust is earned. It doesn’t happen in less than a day, despite us having a good end to the night.”

Niall’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, but he didn’t make a sound.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What are you insinuating?” Harry asked as he quickly stood. He swayed on the spot, black spots invading his vision. His eyes rolled, and he shut them quickly, head rushing. Everything was so muddled — his vision, the sounds around him — that he couldn’t be certain that he’d even spoken. So, he tried again but his words came out a slurred mess, “What are—” he started, but he couldn’t get the words out, they’re glued to his tongue and refuse to move past his lips. He felt faint; his hands clammy, his heart racing as he grasped onto his last tendrils of consciousness.

“Are you okay?” Niall said, but his voice came out all wrong. It sounded like he was underwater. There was a darkness clouding around him that Harry couldn’t immediately place. Niall grabbed Harry’s arm, his grip alone holding him up. “Harry?”

Harry didn’t have time to answer. His knees gave out, and he collapsed, his face smacking against the dirt as his body crumpled to the ground.

When Harry woke up after what felt like days later, he was in a small room with a tiny skylight. It took a few moments for these thoughts to come back, and for him to collect himself fully. He remembered passing out under the blaring heat of the sun, right in front of Niall. In front of Reaper. The fact that he’d been so exposed, so weak, in front of him seemed to have embarrassed him more than it unsettled him. He shifted in the narrow bed he was laying in. 

Although he’d only been harbored in the tunnels for less than two days, he found himself blinking harshly against the sunlight streaming in from the small, rectangular window on the ceiling above him. He wondered how long he had been out, his closed eyes already having grown back accustomed to the darkness during his time asleep. He gave himself a moment to let his sight adjust, faces and forms becoming more clear by the moment. 

An unfortunately familiar figure leaned over to him, pressing a cool, damp rag against his fevered head. “How’re you feeling?”  Zayn asked as he wiped the sweat from Harry’s brow. 

Harry shifted his weight, his body practically stuck to the sheets from a sickly combination of sweat and exhaustion. He groaned from the minor movement, body aching and head pounding. “I’ve felt better.” He noticed other beds on either side of him, with three others lining the opposite wall. “Where am I? What happened?”

“You’re in the hospital wing. Been here for about six hours so far. It’s small, but we make do.” Zayn stood, the absence of his weight on the corner of the bed jostled the mattress and had Harry’s eyes closing just in a sad attempt to not get sick from the unexpected movement.

“You fainted, probably from a combination of things. Your body is just adapting to being underground,” Zayn explained calmly as he spiked the IV fluid bag that was hanging from a metal rod next to the cot Harry was laid out on. “It’ll take a few weeks to get completely used to it. Taking in account the lack of sunlight and different oxygen levels that your body is used to, it’s a bit of an adjustment. But you’ll get through it,” Zayn continued with a small, reassuring smile thrown over his shoulder. “We all do. Niall started calling it ‘cabin fever’ a few years ago, and it stuck. It’ll pass.”

Harry did his best to smile back through the pain. “Your mood seems to have drastically improved now that my health has declined.” It was a lame joke, a sad attempt to diffuse just how uncomfortable he was with their shift in dynamic. Wasn’t Zayn the one that had tipped Reaper off about him being suspicious? Perhaps if Zayn hadn’t said anything to Reaper, Harry wouldn’t have even been in the fields that day. He wouldn’t have passed out while arguing with Reaper, and he wouldn’t have lost half a day’s worth of daylight for reconnaissance as he did while was unconscious in this damn bed. Though it was alarming knowing he was weak enough to pass out after doing minimal labor, it did something to ease his worried mind knowing that he hadn’t been sedated once again. 

Zayn actually let out a laugh. “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just a little reassuring seeing you actually commit to being down here. Not everyone is willing to let their body become accustomed to the conditions. It’s a sign of faith in us, if nothing else.”

He knew that he should feel at least some sort of aggression towards Zayn. The truth was that it was possible that Zayn was lying to him. He could be withholding the truth, as easily as he breathes. Harry was nothing but a nuisance to him, and he had blatantly vocalized his dislike for him. But there was something within the omega’s words, between the lines, that halted any further interrogation. If nothing else, it’s a sign of faith in us. He had a hard time believing it to be that simple. Could all of the animosity simply be because they hadn’t gotten to know him? Perhaps it wasn’t anger or hate, after all, they had accepted other alphas with no issue, but caution — caution for a cause that they truly believed was right. That what they truly believed didn’t upturn and go against the natural order of their universal roles in life and in gender, just as they had been taught since they were practically pups. 

Harry watched as Zayn applied tape over the needle in his hand, locking the new IV in place. Within seconds, he felt a rush of hydration. He allowed himself to relax back into the pillows and close his eyes, finally giving his body a proper chance to rest.

Before he was able to hear him, he could scent him. It was as if the longer he spent in proximity to him, the easier he could scent him from close to anywhere in the tunnels. Regardless of the distance between them, his stood out amongst all the other members living within the tunnels. The smell of crushed tea and amber flooded the room as he approached. Reaper. If Harry hadn’t already been laying down, the potency of Reaper’s scent alone would have knocked him over. Commotion outside of the hospital wing had Harry’s eyes quickly popping back open. Zayn stopped what he was doing to turn around and assess the loud situation just as the door flung open and Reaper barged inside, closely followed by both Echo and Niall. 

“Where is he?” Reaper asked Zayn. Zayn simply arched a brow and gestured over to Harry wordlessly. Harry stared from his place on the cot, propped up by an absurd amount of pillows and looking every bit the sickly alpha. 

The omega’s expression immediately softened from it’s demanding rage. He seated himself on the bedside of Harry, and in a naturally maternal move, he pressed the back of his hand to Harry’s heated forehead to check for a fever. Reaper looked back to Zayn, expression hardening back just as quickly as it had flitted away. “Cabin fever?”

Zayn nodded his confirmation. It was far from the first time either of them had seen these symptoms within the members of the rebellion. A small smile tugged at the corner of Zayn’s lips, not bothering to mask his amusement at Reaper’s concern. “He’ll live, boss.”

If Zayn was being as sarcastic as it seemed, Reaper didn’t bother acknowledging it in the slightest. Instead, he looked back to Harry, his hand lingering against his skin for just a moment too long. If his scent had been strong when he first walked in, then it was absolutely smothering at this point. It took all of Harry’s years of training, lessons in discipline and self-control, to keep himself from trying to shift closer to the omega just to dose himself in his scent. Harry decided then that he would happily drown in it if given the chance. He tried to discreetly move his body, holding back a helpless groan and shift of his hips in doing so.

“Do whatever you need to to get him back on his feet as soon as possible,” Reaper decided with a firm nod. “He might be useful around here.”

“Hell yeah,” Niall said softly from the doorway. Harry glanced over at him with a tired, thankful smile.

Zayn had been lost in the medical records he was holding, flipping through a few pages at a time and then intently reading. He looked over at Harry quickly, then to Reaper. “Could I—?” he started, voice a pitch higher than usual with a hint of panic lacing his words. He seemed fidgety, nervous. The entire room could tell something was off, but no one seemed to ask. “Could I talk to you really quickly, Reap? Outside?”

Reaper looked over to him, brow furrowing in concern as his eyes made contact with the records Zayn was holding in his hands. He nodded, looking back to Harry with a reassuring smile. “Rest up,” he advised. “We’re going to get you used to the tunnels in no time.”

⊗

“Again,” Reaper shouted from the other side of the training room. Harry had discovered that within the tunnels, this was one of the only rooms to be reinforced by metal beams rather than the typical wood. The floor was covered with a sponge-like matting, making it easier for the two men to move quickly without adding more stress to their already aching bodies. 

It was an order, not a request, that ever since Harry left the hospital two weeks before, that he began adding in some kind of intensive training or exercise into his daily routine. Reaper had left no room for argument, even convincing Zayn himself to practically prescribe the regime to Harry, saying that it would help regulate his body and breathing to the atmosphere of the tunnels. Living underground without regular exposure to seasons and sun took a toll on the body, as he’d recently found out, and Reaper decided they’d do what they needed to to prevent such a thing from happening again.

It had only been a matter of seconds before Harry had shot back his one and only stipulation. 

“You have to join me, then,” he’d said confidently with a full, winning smile. 

Reaper had arched a brow, completely unamused. Harry hesitated, fearing that he had perhaps crossed an unspoken line or limit. He wasn’t sure if the leader of the organization ever trained with anyone else, or if he was always alone.

Harry continued, “You’d be the best fit. You could assure that I’m doing exactly what I need to. Design the program yourself, you know?”

Reaper considered it for a moment, shooting a look towards Zayn before nodding at Harry. “Probably best that I supervise, yeah. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.”

The slight dig did nothing to Harry’s ego. If anything, it only made the alpha in him swell with pride, knowing that this omega wanted to spend more time with him. He figured they’d be doing light cardio, maybe even weight lifting, in order to level out his heart-rate and train his lungs to become accustomed to the oxygen levels below ground.

Instead, he found himself drenched in sweat and lowering himself into an ice bath after their first day working out together, wondering to himself how in the ever-living fuck Reaper made everything that he did look so easy. Harry had spent years with the military, maintaining his physique after he was honorably discharged and returned back to the Vehrka to live and work in the Commandant’s estate. Years of relentless private training sessions under the Commandant’s orders, all to make sure that he was fully suited to be his sole heir. And yet, all of that work seemed like child’s play compared to the physical strain of trying to keep up with Reaper.

After two weeks of building up his stamina, he’d gotten somewhat used to the high intensity that Reaper required from him, but now that he’d managed to find a way to keep up with the omega, Reaper switched their routine, insisting that today, they work on perfecting their fighting techniques.

Reaper looked over at him with a curious, small smile. He watched as the alpha bent over to rest his hands on his knees, and it was all Harry could do not to drop down to the floor out of pure exhaustion. He held tightly onto his last bit of integrity and refused to further embarrass himself in front of Reaper. His breathing was now labored after the hours of strenuous exercise they’d put themselves through that afternoon, though it looked like during their session Reaper had avoided even breaking a sweat. Harry glanced up as perspiration beaded around his hairline and dripped off the tip of his nose. He let out a laugh of disbelief. “You’re a machine.”

Reaper’s nose scrunched. “I’m no such thing. You’ve just been babied in battle.” He tossed his practice knife up in the air, watching it spin before easily catching it by the handle. “I’ve never been afforded that luxury. We’ll go again.”

Harry did his best to ignore the slight. With a hand to his brow, he wiped away the sweat that had gathered there as he stood to his full height, looming over Reaper’s petite frame. The omega’s eyes met his with a renewed challenge, flipping the knife in his grip. While Reaper remained seemingly unfazed by their training, his scent told a different story. Harry smelled as the omega’s naturally rich scent twisted into something sharper. His nostrils flared, and Reaper’s bright blue eyes were drawn to the movement. The omega’s lips parted in a low exhale of breath, his eyes dropping quickly to Harry’s mouth, and almost as if in response, Harry stepped closer to his opponent, grabbing his own blunted knife from his pocket. 

“Ready?” Harry asked, his voice far too soft, too gentle, for their current engagement. 

Reaper pushed the rounded tip of the knife to Harry’s gut, pushing him back until he was a proper distance away. “Ready.”

Immediately, naturally, he dropped to a crouch, one hand supporting his weight forward with the other gripping his knife to the side. Harry didn’t even have time to mock his stance before he was being charged at full force. The air was knocked from Harry’s lungs before he even processed what was happening — Reaper had slammed his body against Harry’s, knocking him completely off of his feet. He found himself breathless and sore, laid out on his back with the quick little omega settled on top of him, feather light in weight with the blade of his knife pressed firmly against Harry’s throat. The dulled blade only heightened his senses, the alpha inside him practically bursting through his skin at the first taste of danger. Harry took a deep breath, the movement slightly jostling Reaper’s perch. He was close enough that if Harry shifted a fragment more, their lips would touch.

“Wasn’t expecting that,” he said breathlessly, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Reaper’s answering grin was just as smug. “That’s what makes you so easy. You underestimate me, and everyone else.”

Harry’s hands settled on Reaper’s hips, holding him in place. “Or, perhaps it’s you who underestimates me?”

“Perhaps,” Reaper replied thoughtfully. He hadn’t bothered to lift his ass from Harry’s hips, instead settling nicely into his newfound seat. It took every ounce of self control Harry possessed not to tighten his hold on his meaty waist and push his half-hard cock upwards, just so Reaper could feel it. Reaper hummed softly, sliding the dull edge of the blade against Harry’s larynx. “It would be so easy to slice your throat like this. Your alpha brain makes you weak, you know. So single-minded, only ever after one thing when an omega’s around. It makes you needy, and desperate. You’d risk everything to fuck me right now, wouldn’t you? Even with my knife pressed against your throat, you want me. It’s embarrassing, don’t you think?”

Somewhere between the intoxicating pressure applied to his clothed cock and the distracting way that Reaper’s words spilled from his lips, Harry’s head had become foggy. Consumed with the idea of Reaper’s hips moving, of his tight, taut little body bouncing up and down on top of him, using him as he needed.

“Yeah, embarrassing,” Harry breathed out nonsensically, his grip tightening.

Reaper let out a soft laugh. “I can feel how badly you want me. Can feel it right here,” he says, swiveling his hips slowly, the knife digging in even further into the delicate skin of his throat. Harry let out a ragged breath, holding on to his last shreds of self control for dear life.

Both body and mind were worn down, exhausted. And he hadn’t had this for a while. A sweet little omega perched on top of his clothed cock, teasing him. His grip on Reaper’s hips tightened, and he felt himself begin to slip.

“I can smell you, you know,” Harry whispered, pushing his hips upwards to meet the movement of Reaper’s. The omega’s breath stuttered, but his grip on the knife pressed against Harry’s throat never wavered. His eyes remained locked on Harry, as if he were reading his mind, or trying to predict his next move. Harry grinned lazily. “I can smell how sweet your slick is. You act so unaffected yet it’s practically dripping from you, isn’t it? You’ve flooded the room with your scent. If I was a weaker man, I would be having a hard time right now.”

Reaper let out a huff of a laugh, despite himself. “Seems like you’re already having a hard time.”

The air was clogged with a suffocating mixture of their scents. Heavy layers of warmth, tea, and amber, filling his senses. Without thought, it was instant comfort, instant arousal. He tilted his head to the side, subsequently pressing the blade that Reaper held deeper into his throat, exposing his scent gland even more. It was a game at this point, to see who could push who the furthest. Earlier, Reaper wanted to test Harry’s physical limitations, and now Harry wanted to do the same for him.

Reaper’s nostrils flared, and Harry knew without needing to ask that he was breathing in Harry’s natural scent — leather and oak moss. The combined force of their scents together was not only affecting Harry, but Reaper too — so unthinkably intoxicating to the pair, and with how hard his alpha was pushing him to claim this omega, Harry was suddenly thankful that there was no one else in the room. 

Harry almost groaned. “I can only imagine what you’d taste like.”

Almost as quickly as it had started, it stopped, and the pleasant weight of Reaper’s body was lifted from his hips. Reaper tossed the practice knife off to the side, and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back away from his face. He wouldn’t even look down at where Harry was still laid out and half hard on the floor as he said, “That’s enough training for today.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. He leaned back on his elbows, watching as Reaper walked over to gather his belongings as if they hadn’t just been two pieces of fabric away from fucking. “You can’t be serious,” Harry said with a laugh. “What the fuck was that? Another test?”

Reaper looked over his shoulder, disinterested. “Perhaps.”

And — well, no. That just wouldn’t do. Harry stood, cock still half-hard and bobbing in his trousers as he made his way over to the omega. He grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around, and it was clear from the look on Reaper’s face that he hadn’t been expecting that. Bright eyes, wide and watery, looked up to the alpha. His little, pink lips were barely parted, and he looked every bit the stereotypical startled omega. It turned something unpleasant in Harry’s stomach that he refused to name. It had never been something he’d needed to question, whether or not an omega wanted him, but he found himself hesitating at Reaper’s reaction. It begged the question of whether or not he was in the right, expecting anything at all from the omega.

The closer he got to him, the closer Harry got to completely crumbling. The smell of Reaper’s slick continued to completely evade his senses, clouding his judgment and tripping his words. “Stop acting like you don’t fucking want me, I can smell it.”

Reaper froze in Harry’s hold, his icy blue eyes frosting over. “Clearly you’ve learned nothing during your time here if you’re still unaware that that is a completely involuntary anatomical response on an omega’s part. It does not mean that I want you. My body, it just—it just—”

Harry dropped his hand from his shoulder and scoffed, crossing his arms. “Well, spit it out then.”

Reaper’s expression twisted into one of fury. “Fuck you.”

“That’s my entire point,” Harry said without skipping a beat, looking down at Reaper. His entire body was strung like a bow, pulled tight and ready to snap at any moment. Harry almost smiled. “You want to.”

“You’re everything that’s wrong with this world,” Reaper said. “You’re the reason that we’re down here.”

More than you know, Harry wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. “Tell me to leave, then. It’d be easy.”

“No,” Reaper gritted out, his chest heavily flushed and heaving with an unspoken emotion. “You’re right. That’d be too easy. I’d rather you learn your lesson instead.” Reaper’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer. “You will earn your fucking place here, just like everyone else. Clearly you should have been vetted, which is on me. Our cause must not be getting all the way through your thick alpha skull just yet.” He turned to leave, making it halfway out of the doorway before he paused. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes a little more sad than they had been just seconds before. “You’ll do well to remember that we were fine before you, and we’ll be fine after you. Not a single person down here needs you and your privileged, close-mindedness clouding our mission.”

He held Harry’s gaze for a silent beat, words unsaid hanging heavy in the air between them, and then he left, leaving Harry speechless.

⊗

Harry had come to realize in his months of being a part of the rebellion, that unlike the estate in Vehrka, early morning was the busiest time of the day within the tunnels. Everyone was up and moving, eager to start their day, to head to their post, to greet everyone passing. It was slowest around mid-day, and he’d taken note of that. 

And so, when he dropped off his sealed reports to the mailroom, it was normally during lunch. No one was around, and even Annie had abandoned her post, eager to get to the mess hall in time to grab the best pickings of the day’s limited menu.

As he did every time, he triple checked to make sure that the detailed report that he was sending back to his father in Vehrka was completely sealed, reassuring himself that there was no way that anyone would be able to access the information without it being obvious. It was tamper-proof, and that laid his mind to ease. He took a deep breath, dropping it in the pile of notes that needed to be sent out, and felt something heavy settle within him. He refused to put a name on it, wouldn’t call it guilt out loud, but he felt his stomach turn. Like the simple action of dropping the envelope into the outgoing box was a betrayal. 

His loyalty to his father and the government ran deep. A lifetime of teachings instilled into his mind was a hard thing to shake, but it didn’t keep him from seeing the flaws in the system that his father had in place. Seeing the way that this community lived together against the natural order of society, still somehow functioning with cohesive harmony, was enough to cast shadows of doubt. The dedication and passion that Reaper showed for this cause was the glue that held it all together, the reason for bringing these members together to fight for what they thought was right. These people, and this way of life, was drastically different than anything he’d ever known. And yet, he found their cause forced him to question every single sentence he’d ever heard spewed from his father. 

Dissonance aside, he was more focused on making it unknown that he’d ever been mailing anything out to begin with, and he’d managed to get his timing down exact over the last few weeks, getting in and out with plenty of time to spare before he ever saw the first wandering person in the halls of the tunnels. He’d been lucky in that aspect, not yet having to explain to anyone who he was sending letters to and why. 

Today, it seemed that his luck had turned. He rounded the corner out of the mail room, heading to go train by himself, and ran headfirst into Reaper. The little omega bounced back quickly, flustered at first but as always, regained his composure as if nothing had happened. 

“Harry,” he said, a little breathless. “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at lunch?”

Harry did his best not to grin, reveling in the way that it had become so easy to affect Reaper and more importantly, his scent. “Probably. Wasn’t too hungry, had a big breakfast, you know? I needed to send something to my mum. It’s…her birthday,” he finished lamely, having lost his false sense of confidence somewhere in the middle of his sentence. The anxiety of possibly being found out had caught up to him, and made him stumble over his words. Reaper arched an amused brow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he appraised Harry and his unusual behavior. 

Reaper caught on to his nerves, and took it easy on him. “Her birthday, eh? Interesting. Well, send her our best. Hey—Where are you off to?”

“Going to work out for a bit. Want to come?”

Reaper glanced off down the hall, probably thinking of a million more interesting things to do than to accompany Harry while working out. “No, I’d better not. Have more important things to do than to watch you sweat. Though, it does sound like a nice break in my day. Anyway, have a good time. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” Harry said softly with an awkward wave. Reaper disappeared down the opposite way without so much as a backwards glance. Harry stood, watching him leave. He waited until he walked far enough away that he was a dot in the shadows of the tunnels, eventually rounding a corner out of Harry’s line of sight. 

The heady aroma that followed Reaper like a second skin wafted into the training room as Harry’s wrapped fist slammed into the hanging bag of sand. He’d managed to convince Zayn to give him some bandaging to wrap around his hands to cushion his knuckles to a degree when boxing in the training room, and he was thankful for it, knowing that the harsh blow he just delivered would’ve left his knuckles bloody. 

Everything about Reaper’s presence set him on edge. At this point it had been weeks of cohabiting with him within the tunnels, and Harry was still unsure of whether this impulse he was feeling was the need to run to him or away from him. He looked over to the doorway where he knew, just by instinct alone, that Reaper was standing.

Always cold in the tunnels, the omega was bundled up as usual, a tattered pullover poncho serving as his main source of warmth, his otherwise exposed arms covered by elbow-length fingerless gloves. He looked like he should be cozy and comfortable, but as always he seemed to still have an incessant chill running through his bones. Harry held onto the makeshift boxing bag in front of him, resisting the urge to wrap the petite omega tight in his warm embrace. A picture of him pulling Reaper to him, bodies flush against each other and lips teasing sweet little kisses flashed in his mind. He shifted uncomfortably in the silence.

Reaper’s appearance was a striking contrast to Harry who, as an alpha, tended to naturally run hot. After working up a sweat, he’d quickly stripped everything except for his usual military cut cargo trousers, complete with his leg holster for his knife. It was unusual for him to even remove it, unless absolutely necessary. Reaper appraised his outfit, or lack thereof, with his signature disinterested gaze. Harry could tell without asking that there was something on his mind, the unspoken question settling heavily into the lithe line of his shoulders. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but decided against it. 

The tiny, fist-sized window in the ceiling showed that it was dark and raining outside. Harry wondered if perhaps Reaper’s plans had been canceled due to the weather. He decided he didn’t care. Whatever the case, it had brought him here.

He finally cleared his throat, resuming his stance and throwing another punch towards the boxing bag. “I see you changed your mind. Care to join?”

Reaper’s gaze remained heavily on him, watching with intense curiosity at the way Harry’s body moved and pulled with each punch. “Not particularly.”

Not surprising, actually. “Well, if you don’t mind then, I’m going to get back to it.“

“You were right,” Reaper said conversationally, dragging his finger along the smooth surface of the metal rack lining the far wall. It housed the various sizes of weights used for lifting, but Reaper didn’t bother to pick one up. Instead, he looked over to Harry, who froze in front of the still swinging punching bag. 

Harry’s forehead creased. “About?”

“I do want you,” Reaper said, as if it was as simple as that.

Words failed Harry as his brain turned over the statement again and again in his head. The majority of the time he’d spent here, Reaper had acted as if he was nothing. Harry’s hand shot out, stopping the punching bag from continuing to swing back and forth. “What?”

Reaper shrugged. “You’re not like other alphas that I’ve met. You’re stubborn, you’re secretive, you’re strong, all as I expected. But there’s a softness about you. Something about you keeps me interested. I want to know more. It’s felt different with you since the beginning. I can’t explain it. I don’t really want to.”

Harry was confused. “But you hate alphas.”

“No, I don’t. I just don’t need one. No one does.” Reaper walked closer, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it with a thud, and Harry heard the gentle click as he turned the lock into place behind his back. “I’ve never had a knot before. And I want you. I want yours.”

Words were thick on his tongue. “You want me,” he repeated slowly back to Reaper, his brain seemingly malfunctioning. Never had a knot? Ever? Harry’s sanity might not survive this, he’d never been with an inexperienced partner before. He could only imagine the feeling, the tightness of an unknotted omega.

But, fuck if he was going to try. He was already fattening up in his track pants, eager to take the little omega apart piece by piece. 

Reaper sighed, “Don’t make me say it again, please.”

He made his way slowly across the room, shedding clothing as he went. First, his gloves. Then the hooded poncho fell to the floor, leaving him only in a long sleeve shirt, his trousers, and shoes. 

“If you want me,” Harry said slowly, “then let me have you.”

His hands snaked up Harry’s chest, wrapping around his neck. “You can have me,” he whispered, like a secret. Maybe it was. Harry kissed the secret from his lips. 

They lost themselves in it, and Harry quickly stripped Reaper’s shirt from his body. “Fuck,” he cursed, licking along Reaper’s throat with a feral groan. “You taste as good as you smell. Knew you would,” he thought aloud, sucking a bruise right onto the spot that if he were to bite into the flesh, it would bond them as mates. For the first time in his life, the thought didn’t seem so unnatural to him. Instead, it seemed to spur him on, turning him on further. Reaper whimpered, craning his neck impossibly to the side, exposing more of himself to Harry.

“So fucking wet for me already, aren’t you?” Harry mused against his skin, hardly breaking away to tug Reaper’s trousers off and toss them off to the side in one swift movement. He inhaled deeply, running his nose along the now fully exposed gland nestled into the juncture of Reaper’s neck. “You smell so fucking good, don’t you, baby? So fucking sweet for me.”

Reaper made a desperate, sweet little sound in response. Harry wanted to swallow it, keep it only to himself. “On your knees.”

Reaper didn’t even hesitate, dropping to his knees immediately. There was something so deeply erotic to Harry in seeing Reaper — the face of an insurgent revolution, the man in charge of collapsing entire buildings and uprooting major Vehrkan institutions — slip so easily into submission. He could tell, just by Reaper’s bright doe eyes, that in this moment, he wouldn’t dare question anything Harry asked of him. For what felt like the first time since he went underground, Harry was in charge of their dynamic. 

“Turn around. On all fours,” Harry ordered.

Much to Harry’s pleasure, the omega complied. He bowed his back, fully arched as he pressed his chest to the floor mat, keeping his ass propped up in the air. Harry wanted to take the time to savor it, to explore. He wanted to absolutely worship him, licking up every drop of his slick, letting it drip down his face after eating him out for hours.  

But, he felt frantic. His alpha was beating against the confines of his brain, urging him to claim this omega and breed him fully. He was hungry. Starving. He wasted no time bending him in half, pulling him apart to reveal his seeping hole, and began feasting like a man starved. 

Reaper moaned into the foam mat, legs shaking as Harry suckled at the puckered skin of his hole. “You can take it baby, know you can,” Harry said, kissing just below. “I’ve barely gotten started.”

“Know I can,” Reaper repeated dazedly, pushing his ass further back into Harry’s face, coating his lips and chin with his sweet slick. 

Once he’d licked him open to his satisfaction, noticing that he was more relaxed, pushing his hips back to meet the movement of Harry’s tongue, Harry slid a finger inside, crooking it. Reaper tried to moan, but all that came out was a pathetic, broken whimper.

Harry’s alpha swelled with pride, unable to voice how pleased he was with himself for bringing pleasure to this omega. “Yeah, baby? You like the way that feels, don’t you?” 

Reaper whimpered, shaking even harder than before. Harry took that as a sign that he should add another finger, scissoring them quickly to help Reaper adjust to the feeling.

“Fuck, you were made to take this fat alpha cock, weren’t you? Such a fucking whore for it. It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?” Harry babbled helplessly, absolutely feral with the fact that he was making Reaper feel this way. He knew his words were true. He could sense just from Reaper’s reactions alone that he hadn’t felt pleasure like this in some time. Harry was determined to make him forget about any other alpha he had had before him — he wanted to make Reaper his omega now. His little winces at sudden movements, the stuttering of his breath at anything more than the mediocre proved it. Harry wanted to absolutely rip him apart. “Take it like a good little bitch. Yeah, just like that. Fuck yes, just like that.”

It wasn’t long before Reaper began fucking himself back onto Harry’s fingers, his movements confident and certain. He was moving with intent, trying to do whatever he could to get himself off as soon as he could. He seemed to like Harry’s words, responding to them with a vigor that grew more and more each time. Harry nipped at his plump ass cheek, his long, hard cock bobbing between their bodies, untouched. “Want to watch my cum spill out of that used little hole. So fucking wet already baby, fuck.”

With each slide of his fingers inside of Reaper, Harry felt his sanity slip. The tight grip his hole had around his fingers had him risking his composure, wanting to claim, mark, breed. He knew that logically he couldn’t, knew that this omega wasn’t his—but in this moment, with his slick dripping down Harry’s wrist, his hole open and ready to be taken by him — that didn’t matter to his alpha. 

He was losing his fucking mind.

The sweet, overwhelming smell of Reaper’s scent further flooded Harry’s senses. He wanted to bottle it and wear it for himself, letting everyone else know that this specific omega was off limits. He was his, to do with as he so pleased. He was his to fill with cum, to bruise, to bite. He was his. He refused to think differently. He knew he needed to, but it was no longer a possibility with the way his tight, wet, hole gripped his fingers. He could only imagine how it would feel around his cock. He planned to find out.

“Want you,” he repeated into the flushed skin of Reaper’s ass. “Let me have you.”

Reaper moaned, at Harry’s complete and total mercy. “You can have me,” he assured, poking his ass out even further. Harry kissed him where he’d spoken those words, then pulling away to admire. 

Harry’s finger slowly circled the rim of Reaper’s hole, watching as the omega shuddered beneath him. “Going to keep you full and swollen with my pups. Going to fuck you until you can’t take anymore.”

Reaper looked back over his shoulder, wiggling his hips tauntingly. He already looked fucked out, pink and teary eyed. “Is that a promise?”

“Oh, it’s a promise,” Harry said gently. He meant it, watching as the perfect, rigged pink of Reaper’s hole constricted from the stimulation. “Relax for me.”

He took his cock in hand, slapping the hefty, thick meat of it against Reaper’s soaked hole. He watched the wetness gather on the tip of his cock, his knot already beginning to fatten up at the base just from the idea of being inside of this omega. 

Reaper turned around, clearly impatient. “Are you going to—”

Harry took that moment to push the first couple of inches inside. It took the words right out of Reaper’s mouth, leaving him breathless and needy. Harry preened, tucking even more of his length inside. His eyes stayed locked on where their bodies connected, watching the way that a fresh wave of slick dripped from Reaper’s hole as Harry shifted his hips back, setting a slow, hard tempo.

“Oh god,” Reaper said, voice soft and breathy, completely lost in the feeling of an alpha’s cock swelling inside of him for the first time. 

“God isn’t here right now,” Harry grunted out. He trailed biting kisses up his spine to his neck, speaking directly against his throat before latching his mouth onto his scent gland and sucking a bruise into the skin. “Pray to me.”

Reaper’s eyes rolled back as he let himself be used, fucked, just like his body was made to be. Harry feels it when a fresh rush of slick seeps from Reaper’s hole, and he takes the opportunity to drive his entire length inside of him. “Fuck, Harry.”

Harry grinned against his throat, high on the scent of him. A low, deep growl ripped from his chest before he bared his teeth, biting into Reaper’s clavicle, just below where a true mating mark should go. He licked the skin, soothing it with his tongue. “That’s right baby, want to hear my name spill from those helpless little lips. Want you to scream for me,” he rambled hungrily, blinded by his need for the omega beneath him. 

“Wait, stop, stop,” Reaper said suddenly, and Harry gathered self control he didn’t even know he possessed, immediately halting his movements. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, pulling out his throbbing cock as gently as he could. He winced, the coolness of the air being an unwelcome shock to his hard, wet cock.

Reaper nodded, plopping down on the ground and turning around so that he was on his back. He pulled his knees up to his chest, presenting himself to Harry once more. “Yeah, ‘m good. Wanna see your face when I come,” he explained breathily, and honestly, Harry was shocked he didn’t explode on the spot. 

He groaned, dipping back down to taste the unique spice of Reaper’s scent gland, further sucking a bruise into the sensitive skin there. He gripped himself, sliding back inside of Reaper’s welcome heat, and it was only a little concerning how it felt so much like home. 

He wasted no time, picking up exactly where he left off, fucking Reaper with an intentional, hard pace. Whispered angelic words of pleasure spilled from Reaper’s lips, but Harry couldn’t help but notice that he looked like there was something else he wanted to say. Desperately. 

“Use your words for me, baby,” Harry urged, fucking into him hard and fast. “Tell me what you need.”

Reaper whined instead, wrapping his hand around the back of Harry’s neck and yanking him down until their lips met in a hatch clashing of lips and teeth. “I just need you to say it,” Reaper panted against his throat, nipping at the skin there. A tiny, claiming mark.

Harry hummed, the movement of his hips slowing as he pulled back, locking hazy gazes with the omega. “Say what?”

He hesitated. “Want you to say my name. My real name. Want to hear you say it, like this. Want to come to the sound of my name falling from those lips of yours.”

Harry stilled, his eyes searching for a trance of anything in Reaper’s eyes. He needed to find some sign of the fact that he knew who he was. Maybe he’d known all along, knowing from the beginning that he was the Commandant’s son. Maybe this was some kind of trap that Harry had fallen directly into. But, all he saw was trust. Reaper smiled a little, his hand brushing against the side of Harry’s face. 

“Is that okay?” Reaper asked, suddenly insecure.

Harry nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes,” he assured with a kiss to his nose. His lips. He lingered, unwilling to pull away.

“Louis,” Reaper whispered against his mouth.

Harry smiled into the kiss. “Louis,” he whispered back, beginning to slowly move his hips again. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, mouth falling open a fraction more, a desperate sound slipping out. 

“I want you to say it again,” Louis breathlessly panted against Harry’s lips, brow creased in pleasure as Harry relentlessly pounded his swollen cock into him. Soft little sounds spilled from the omega’s lips, and Harry wanted to dip down, swallow them whole, but he didn’t want to lose sight of the perfect, perfect, perfect view of this omega taking his cock like he was made for it.

And now that he thought of it, maybe he was. Maybe this little, sharp omega, who was normally fearless and full of fight, was made for him. His entire life, he’d been told that alphas and omegas didn’t need to have lifelong mates. He’d been told that alphas were stronger on their own, that omegas did nothing but weaken an alpha’s true power and potential. 

But over the last few months, Harry had felt physically and mentally stronger than ever. In part, he was sure it had to do with the excessive training he’d been made to endure, but it was also more. He’d heard stories of it happening, of course. Tall tales about true mates, about alphas and omegas bonding for life, securing their connection with a bite that caused them to merge their souls and scents into one, securing a link between the pair that could only be broken with death. A different level of connection than anything anyone he’d ever known had experienced. His entire life, he’d been told that any alpha that succumbed to forming a bond with an omega was weak — weak minded, weak spirited, weak bodied. They were an embarrassment, a taboo in their modern society. And yet suddenly, Harry wanted to be a part of it. He wanted it. He wanted Louis.

Nothing about a true mates’ bond had ever appealed to him, until now. That very moment, with his cock sheathed inside of Reaper, inside of Louis, a sworn enemy of the government, his omega body gripping his cock like a vice, he had never wanted anything more. Unable to resist any longer, he bent down to press a frantic kiss to Louis’s parted lips, the movement nothing more than clashing teeth, biting lips, and shared breath. The silence between them was heavy and tangible, laced with everything unsaid between them. The only sounds in the training room were that of pleasure while their bodies collided. Harry felt like he could pluck the words from the air around them and spit them back out. Like he could be open and honest about the way he felt for the first time in his life. Like this was where he was supposed to be, with Louis’s body writhing beneath him, being fucked hard and worked open until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Maybe, he thought, maybe Harry was the only one who could turn Reaper into this sobbing mess, dripping with slick and begging to take more, more, more of Harry when he was already stuffed to the brim with his alpha cock. It was as if he’d heard Harry’s exact thoughts, the omega beneath him craning his neck to the side, breaking his shared breath with Harry to fully expose the column of his throat to the alpha. A low growl rumbled from deep in Harry’s chest as a fresh wave of the omega’s scent rolled over his senses thanks to Louis’s exposed, bare scent gland. 

“Please, Alpha, please, need to hear it—”

“Louis,” Harry whispered against his lips like a prayer. Louis moaned, loud and broken, directly into Harry’s mouth. “Louis, fuck, I’d make you mine right now if I could, baby. Mate you, ruin you for anyone else. I want this,” he said, punctuating his words with a slow, deep swivel of his hips. “I want you.”

“Might let you,” Reaper — Louis — sighed. He was blissed out, fucked thoroughly, and rose tinted. “Want it forever,” he repeated to himself, a fragmented moan ripping from his flushed chest at just the idea of it.

“Forever,” Harry whispered into his skin, having found his way back to his scent gland. He was drawn to it, as an alpha would be, but he couldn’t get enough. Everything about Louis had become addicting to Harry. It was overwhelming, all of it. The infuriating way he dealt with his emotions, his superiority complex, his tight hole gripping Harry’s cock like a vice. Everything about him drove Harry mad, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Louis came with a cry, contracting beautifully around Harry’s swollen base. He pushed in the last little bit, locked in for his knot to swell fully and breed the omega just like he was meant to. Louis’s hand flew to his stomach as he felt Harry begin to spill inside him. Harry shuddered almost violently, groaning deeply as he came. 

It took longer than normal for his knot to go down, and he knew it was because his body was so eager. Cum streamed from the omega’s used, open hole, just as the raindrops streamed down the small window in the ceiling. Harry wanted nothing more than to clean him with his tongue, but he was afraid he was too sensitive. He settled for his discarded shirt, instead. 

They walked side by side back to Harry’s room, playful pushes and chasing each other like children until they reached his door. It took minimal convincing to get Louis to sleep in his room with him that night, only needing a whispered plea of his newly discovered name. Louis had blushed, allowing himself to be pulled into bed. 

The next morning, they woke side by side, still on a high from the night before. Louis swung a leg over Harry’s hips and mounted him, taking his time to slide down his cock, still sore from being fucked just hours before. It was slow, and far more intimate than Harry had expected. He pulled him close, never wanting him too far. A sweet kiss and a soft Louis was all it took to push him to the edge. Harry wrapped him in his arms, convincing him to postpone his morning duties just a little longer. 

To neither of their surprise, it really didn’t take much convincing at all.

⊗

It had been half a month, and Louis hadn’t spoken to Harry. They had parted that morning after with a kiss, and later that day when Harry had passed him on his way to eat, Louis had walked past him without so much as a glance. Harry wasn’t sure where it had gone wrong, and honestly the most infuriating part of it all was that Louis wasn’t even totally ignoring him. 

Suddenly, he was too busy. Suddenly, he had a million excuses to never be alone with him. The paranoia of it all had Harry on edge, but even more than that, he felt a little hurt. 

He wasn’t sure how Louis could feign this level of nonchalance after the night they spent together. Harry was having a hard time coming back to reality after finally fucking so, so deep in the omega’s slick, heavenly heat. He knew he’d never be able to get enough, and he refused to let this be a one time thing, or even worse, something that Louis would consider a mistake. 

Storms in the desert were rare, but not unheard of, and ever since the night they’d connected, it had been non-stop rain. The issue of flooding had become too great, and he and Niall had been working nearly around the clock to make sure that the crops weren’t being overwatered. He knew that everyone had been busy, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t make the time to finally confront Louis.

Before he was set to meet Niall in the fields, he stopped off at the post room. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d felt more and more guilty with each letter that he’d sent back to his father. The stench of betrayal clung to him like smoke, for somehow the Uprising had managed to find a soft spot in his armor, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. As more time passed, as he spent more time with everybody involved — working together, alphas and omegas side by side contributing to the development of this little underground community, Harry realized with no less than great effort that they were right.

About everything. The policies, laws, and programs that his father had implemented in his time in office were nothing short of disgusting. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d ever been so blind to it. He dropped the sealed envelope into the outgoing bin and stared. He wished could burn it and act like this never happened. He could destroy his last report to his father, and officially become a part of this community. This family.

He glanced down in the slot of the outgoing mail, trying to guess how difficult it would be to get the letter back out of the box. With his heart in his throat, he stared, hopeless. Torn between two sides of existence, two realities. What he’d always known and what he now knew. He considered breaking the box to retrieve the envelope, but when he heard the soft sounds of Annie singing to herself as she walked down the halls of the tunnels to return back to her post, his hands froze. He hesitated one last time, but ultimately decided against making a scene. The questions that would follow would be too difficult to answer. Instead he turned to leave, nodding to her with a smile on his way to the other end of the tunnels to meet his friend and start their day of work. 

The bed beside him was cold, just as it had been for the last three weeks and two days. Not that he was counting. The rain had finally stopped, which Harry was thankful for. It made their lives underground that much easier, not having to worry about any flooding or collapsing of their home. He closed his eyes, hand outstretched, palm flat against the cool, bare sheets of his bed when he heard the mechanical whir of the lock on his door click out of place, the door then swinging open. 

He sat up quickly. “Louis?” he asked into the darkness, the person entering his room had not bothered to turn on the light. Their scent was off, though. No, it wasn’t Louis.

“It’s Liam,” the alpha said from his doorway. “There’s been a security breach and I need you to come with me.”

Nerves prickled Harry’s skin, telling him that he should be on edge. He hoped that Liam didn’t know who he was referring to when he’d called out Louis’s name, but judging by what Niall had told him months ago, no one else knew Louis as anything other than his pseudonym. He tried not to think too much into it, hastily getting up and putting on clothes. His sleep-addled mind was running a mile a minute, worried for Louis’s safety. A security breach? Nothing like that had happened since he’d become a part of the Uprising. He followed, heartbeat pounding in his ears. 

They made their way through the halls, and Harry realized he hadn’t been to this area of the compound just yet. Liam punched in a code on a keypad next to a wide, metal door. It slammed open, and Liam gestured inside. “Sit,” he ordered. 

Harry glanced at him wearily, not sure he was even willing to go inside. Liam’s expression said enough. This was not the time for games. Something was wrong.

Niall was inside, sitting on the other side of the table where Harry was instructed to take a seat. He looked frantic, crazed. Wide eyed and exhausted, like he’d been woken up suddenly from a restless sleep. “Harry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize to him,” Liam snapped. He glared at Harry, arms crossed. He walked behind Niall, glancing briefly towards the door as it slammed open once more and Louis walked in the room.

Harry’s heart dropped at his expression. He’d been found out.

“I knew it,” Louis started. He was already defeated, head hanging and eyes bruised almost purple from anxiety and lack of sleep. Harry’s gut was wrenched. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He never needed to find out. Harry could’ve fixed this. “The weather managed to damage some of the mail. Outgoing, specifically. And as you know, we’ve all had to pick up some of the extra slack in certain areas. Annie was overwhelmed with the mail, repackaging what we needed to and sending it out. Niall decided to help her last night.” Harry was going to throw up. Louis continued. “Your letter to your father slipped out of the damaged envelope. In order to figure out which letters matched which envelopes, they had to be read. Niall said it was such an interesting piece of literature, too.”

Harry glanced up to Niall, who wore an equally stern expression. He was upset, it was easy to see, but months of built friendship having been ruined in a fraction of a moment was reflected clearly in his eyes. He’d shown Harry their life here, had spoken freely with him on a daily basis. Friend to friend. It was clear that he was devastated that he had played a part in Harry's exposure of them.

Harry tried to speak. Louis held a hand up, stopping him.

“It’s Styles, right?” Louis said, eventually looking up to meet Harry’s gaze. “You’re the Commandant’s son, right? The oldest alpha of the family?”

Harry remained silent. There wasn’t much to say, was there? It seemed like Louis had already figured him out, long before tonight. 

As if he’d read Harry’s thoughts, Louis nodded softly. “I’d had an idea from the start, you know. I knew you came from somewhere privileged, with your talk of movies and whatnot. But I had hoped—” he shook his head. “I don’t know what I hoped. I hoped I wasn’t right, I suppose. Leave us,” he said dismissively towards Niall and Liam. 

They exited quietly, Niall sending him a somewhat sympathetic look before the metal door slid back into place behind them.

“Louis, I care about you. Please, you have to believe that that much is true,” Harry said suddenly, without hesitation.

The omega flinched at the use of his real name. There was only regret left in his eyes, a rueful acknowledgement that he had trusted Harry enough to share his deepest secret, only to be scorned beyond which he thought possible.

“No,” Louis said. “You do not. This—” he waved back and forth between them, “—is not how you show that.”

Harry insisted. “I care about you. You caring for me is a different story, but I’m being honest. You’ve been nothing but difficult with me, seeing me as the enemy, avoiding me the moment we allowed ourselves to get close, and nonetheless, I care about you.”

“You are the enemy.”

Harry’s face crumpled. “I’m not, and I know that you know we’re more than what you’ll allow yourself to say. I know you felt it that night.” 

Louis looked furious, an unfiltered anger in his eyes that Harry had only seen in security footage, often directed at his father’s military men. An anger that Harry had secretly begun to hope would never be turned on him. The words he allowed himself to say left Harry speechless. “You’ll be exiled from here immediately, and sent back to your father with a full report from me. I’m sure that any punishment that he’ll deliver to you will be significantly worse than anything I could come up with,” Louis said, voice vacant, empty of any emotions that may lurk within his heart. “I don’t want to see your face for a second longer than I have to.”

⊗

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that he’d failed, or the fact that his father had already expected him to. It had been half a year, at least, since he’d been banished from his place in the Uprising, and he believed his father had maybe said two words to him the entire time. Monotonous days of existence back within the confinement of the luxurious Grand Hall made him miss the fresh smell of dirt that clung heavy in the air throughout the tunnels of the Uprising’s safe haven. The stale air of the Commandant’s estate couldn’t compare. Though they’d been living trapped beneath the earth, he’d never felt like he could breathe so easily. And now, he couldn’t help but to feel like he was suffocating. He missed everything about it, almost as much as he missed everyone there. 

Almost immediately upon his arrival home he’d been heavily encouraged by his father to head into the breeding facilities. He’d denied, claiming he needed time more to acclimate himself to life above ground, having spent so much time living within the tunnels. His father only grunted in response, surely not surprised by his subtle refusal but undoubtedly disappointed all the same. The thought never settled well with him, but now after being with Louis, it wasn’t even an option. He’d manage to find his mate in the most unlikely of circumstances, and lose him in the same. He wanted no part of the facilities, or anything regarding another omega. 

A part of him knew it from the moment they first laid together, from that moment in the training room that there was no going back. Louis was it for him, and now he was gone.

Harry busied himself however he could. He did his best to remain discreet and fly below his father’s radar. He only allowed himself to sneak into the command room once or twice a week to check for any updates about the Uprising. It had boiled down to a bit of a science, knowing exactly where to walk in the halls and which corners to cling to to avoid being caught on surveillance. 

It was pathetic almost, how dedicated he was to making sure that his old friends were still alright. The tracking device he’d taken into the tunnels with him assured that his father knew the Uprising base’s exact location, and yet Harry hadn’t been able to find any documented raids of the tunnels to date. 

While he thought about Niall, Liam, Annie, and Zayn every time he managed to snag reports and updates on the cause, he always thought of Louis. He was at the forefront of his every thought and move, always working to do what he could to keep his eye on him, his protective alpha instincts still in overdrive even after being told that he was not wanted by the omega. With how determined his father had been to catch the one that got away, the fact that the Commandant had made no moves to infiltrate the Uprising prickled at Harry’s intuition was too much of a red flag for Harry to ignore. Everything seemed suspiciously quiet on the government’s end. Too quiet. 

His father’s form of punishment was much like how they regularly coexisted initially before his mission — every interaction was filled with sufficient disdain and silence. It was to be expected, and was far less severe a punishment than what he actually deserved. And while being forced away from the omega that occupied every moment of Harry’s free thought was mentally torturous, even after six months, Harry still believed that he hadn’t made an adaquet penance for his crimes. And quite frankly, he wasn’t sure he ever would. It wasn’t until the night when he was called into dinner unexpectedly that things took a turn for the worse. 

The Commandant turned to him with a chilling smile. “Ah, Harry,” he said, welcoming him with a graceful sweep of his arm across the spread that was displayed on the table. “I believe you know my guest.”

“Guest?” Harry asked, confused. He looked to the other end of the extensive, grand hall dining table, and felt his whole body freeze in undeniable horror. Harry’s blood ran through him like ice, pin pricks and needles in his veins when he realized who was in front of him. 

Louis sat at the head of the table, opposing the Commandant. His hands were bound behind him, and a gag was in his mouth. His eyes were narrowed at both father and son, as if the hatred he harbored for each of them was equivalent. Harry swallowed the bile that rose in his throat at the thought. 

“What’ve you done?” Harry breathed in terror. Was he even sure of what he was seeing? Louis being here, a few steps away from him, was enough to suspect this was all a hallucination.

The Commandant laughed. “No, no, my boy. It’s what you have done. You helped me find the one that got away! Finally, you’ve done something right. And look at him now,” he said, his toothy smile unsettling and rotten. “He’s not going anywhere. Nowhere left to run. No miserable family to try to protect him now.”

Harry made a small sound of protest in the back of his throat, and his father looked to him in question. “Is something wrong?”

“You can’t just—” Harry started before thinking better of himself, but Louis’s eyes narrowed even further. Harry wanted to rush over to him, to make sure he was okay, to scent him. To untie the gag and binding and kiss the marks away. 

His father waited, patiently, a now clearly amused expression on his overly distinguished face. “Do you think I don’t know?”

Harry looked at him, real panic beginning to set in. Did he know how often he thought of Louis? Did he know about how close he was to not sending that letter? Where his true loyalties lie? His stomach turned, seeing how bruised Louis’s eyes were, seeing the purple blooming on his jaw and the busted cut on his lip. He looked worn down and beaten, but the fire Harry had grown to know still flickered in his sharp, bright eyes. He looked as if he’d thinned in the face, cheeks sunken and jaw sharper than he’d ever seen. He wanted to cup the omega’s face in his hands, tell him that he was sorry, so sorry, and that was sure he’d find a way out of this. But in this moment, locked between his father and his heart, two men who would do whatever they had to to reach their means, he’d never been more uncertain in his life. 

Harry’s gaze cut back to his father. “Know what?”

The Commandant scoffed, slamming down the fork that he had been holding. “How you defiled what was mine. You dirtied him with yourself. You didn’t deserve him.”

“I know,” Harry said, looking over to Louis. His eyes had softened a fraction, allowing a little emotion to be seen in his bright blue gaze. Even in the intimately dimmed lighting of the room, Harry could still make out the hue of the omega’s eyes. 

“Your emotions blind you. You’re fucking worthless,” his father spat out, beginning to stand. Harry heard a faint clinking of silverware at the far end of the table, but didn’t have a chance to look before a blinding pain exploded from his kneecap. 

With a shout, he fell to the ground, blood already beginning to pour from the hole his father had blown into his leg. “I should’ve killed you years ago,” the Commandant seethed, still holding the gun that had appeared so quickly in his father’s hand. How long had he had it beside him? And how much more did he plan to use it on his only son? 

He stood, moving to stand over Harry and aim for his head. Harry looked to Louis from where he laid on the ground in a pool of his own blood, his final moment of weakness in front of the person that raised him and the person he loved. He wasn’t afraid to die, and now he couldn’t stand, what further purpose could he provide in his mate’s life? The most he could do was die for him, and hope that it served as enough of a distraction for him to finally collect his revenge and reap his father’s life. Harry closed his eyes, surrendering to what this was. He heard the clinking sound again, and then the sound of two bodies making contact. 

He opened his eyes to see Louis on top of his father with a steak knife pressed to his throat. They locked eyes, and for a brief moment Harry let himself imagine that Louis was doing this because he wanted to save him, not solely because his father had taken his eyes off of the omega long enough to leave the opportunity open.

Louis pressed the knife further into his father’s neck, the pressure causing droplets of blood to spring to the surface of his skin.

In the moment of respite, where his father’s attention was back on Louis, Harry placed his hand over his knee in a sad attempt to stop the bleeding. The hole was bigger than he’d expected; he’d need to make some kind of tourniquet, but he could hardly even find the strength to sit up. 

A flash of movement from his father caught his eye. “Louis! Watch out—” Harry tried to warn, his head swimming and his knee pulsing.

There was so much blood. Too much.

The Commandant grabbed Louis by the back of his hair, yanking him away from him with the element of surprise. Louis let out a shocked scream, his hands moving back to grip the one holding onto him, trying to relieve the strain to his scalp.  

Ribbons of fear wrapped themselves around Harry’s gut at the mere idea that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him. The anxiety held onto him tightly, too tight, practically paralyzing him and taking his breath along with it. He needed to do something, anything, to save Louis. The thought of what his father would do to him once Harry was gone was enough to have one final pump of adrenaline course through him. Harry’s fury swirled, the need to survive and have his omega beside him flooding him with a strength beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

With all the effort he could muster, he grabbed onto the side of the ornate fireplace, pulling himself up to stand. He leaned heavily onto it, panting from the effort. “Let him go,” he managed, chest heaving.

“Not going to happen,” the Commandant grunted, wrapping his arms around Louis’s body and pulling his frame flush against his chest. He kept his arm around Louis’s neck and the barrel of his gun pressed directly against Louis’s temple. Everything around him had a twin, doubles of every object and person in the room swirled in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing them away. He needed his mind to be clear. As clear as possible in that moment. Everything that had come to matter to him over the last few months relied on his next move. Absolutely everything. 

He managed a few steps forward before collapsing again. He reached out blindly, delusional with pain, and latched onto the first thing he was able to grab. His father’s voice floated down from somewhere above him. “What in the—?” the Commandant grunted, trying to shake off his son’s grip around his ankle. His grasp only tightened, feeling the bones in his father’s ankle rub together beneath his hold. 

The Commandant quickly grew tired of his son’s antics, growing impatient with him as per usual. He reared the butt of the gun back, slamming it against Louis’s temple. Louis cried out in pain, the sound alone causing adrenaline to course through Harry.

“Let go of me, you ungrateful shit,” he seethed, trying once more to shake Harry off of him. Harry decided that if this was how he was meant to die, he might as well make himself useful in his final moments. He clenched his fist as hard as he could, mustering up every ounce of control and power he had left, every bit of his alpha will that knew he needed to do whatever he could to protect his mate, and crushed his father’s bones in his hand. 

The Commandant let out an inhuman noise, howling like a wolf in the wild as he swayed. He hobbled to the side, no longer connected to his foot, and grunted as his body connected with the floor. “What have you done?” he shrieked towards Harry, who was doing everything he could to even stay conscious. Louis reached over, now free from the Commandant’s hold, and grabbed his gun. 

“Harry,” Louis said, crawling to his side. He checked the wound, grimacing at what he found. He ripped off the hem of his shirt, tying it tightly around Harry’s thigh to hopefully cut off the blood flow. He felt the touch-warmed metal of his father’s gun being pressed into his hand. “This belongs to you.”

“Harry,” his father called. “Please, son, don’t listen to him. Who is he to you? Nothing. He’s replaceable. I’m your father. Your blood.” His tone changed quickly as he watched Louis help Harry to stand. The Commandant laughed from the ground. “You two will never get away with this,” he wheezed. He looked to Harry with a smug smile. “You won’t even survive until tomorrow. Lost too much blood haven’t you? Good. Dying seems to be the only thing you know how to do right.”

Harry leaned the entirety of his weight onto Louis and raised the gun. 

“What’re you—” his father tried.

“Ending this,” Harry cut him off, and fired a single shot into his father’s head. 

⊗

Harry woke two weeks later, and the bed beside him was warm. There was a body next to him, and even in his sleep-addled mind, he knew who lay alongside him. He would know him in the dark, in the light, whether he was made deaf or blind. And even despite all that had happened between them, their months of seperation and battles that were sure to come, Harry was sure there was no object great enough to stop him from recognizing the soul that had so deeply intertwined itself with his own. 

Louis was curled up next to him, his hand outstretched to touch some part, any part, of Harry that he could reach. Louis was in bed right next to him, and that thought alone could have been enough to rocket him from this bed were he not scared to disturb the man beside him. 

Harry took the time to reflect on how little he actually knew. How much time had passed? He had fallen unconscious not long after he shot his father. Faster than he could stop it, the image of his father’s lifeless body, leaking blood onto the marble floor of the dining room, flashed in his mind. He closed his eyes, willing the image of that monster away. He didn’t have a single thought to spare for him at the time, not with Louis finally back in his arms. He’d fought for him, for them. They’d fought for each other. And now they could finally rest. 

His leg was suspended in a sling, with his casting and something metallic peeking out of the other side. Echo was curled up on the other side of Louis, taking up over half of the bed. Harry nudged against Louis, urging him to wake. 

“Hey,” he said softly at the first fluttering sight of blue. 

Louis smiled, soft and shy. “Hey.”

Harry smiled back. “You saved me back there.”

Louis shrugged the best that he could while lying down. “I could say the same about you.”

He took the opportunity to move as close as he could to Louis, even with his leg restrained as it was. Harry inhaled the scent of him, tugging him close and breathing him in like his sweet smell would dull the pain radiating where his knee used to be. His eyes squeezed shut, his grip tightening infinitesimally. He’s here, he reminded himself like a mantra. He’s right here next to you. He’s alive. He’s okay. He’s yours. 

But, was he? Harry inhaled deeply, letting the warm, comforting scent of crushed tea and amber flood his senses. Louis relaxed against him, curling further into his hold. “I’m so sorry,” Harry whispered into his hair. He combed his fingers through Louis’s long, tousled locks, and let the silence of the room wrap around them. “I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll never lie to you, Louis.” Louis’s hand twisted into the fabric of his shirt and he heard him sniffle. “I’ll never be able to explain how sorry I am.”

Louis inhaled, the movement shaky. “I thought I was going to lose you, Harry,” he admitted. “There was so much blood.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Harry assured, hugging his arm around Louis. Impossibly tight, and yet he knew that they could never be close enough. He felt the strange metallic pinch of the new extension of his leg, beginning at his knee. He didn’t dare open his eyes to look. He could feel the way the metal fit to his leg. If he flexed his toes, he could hear the shift of the mechanical limb move along with it. The area around his knee where the metal leg fit against his thigh was fresh and raw, not yet used to the feeling of the artificial limb.

It was a sobering realization, accepting the fact that his leg had been amputated. Yet, after seeing what remained of his knee after his father shot him, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine another realistic option. It was something he would eventually adjust to. Harry flexed his toes again, listening to the faint shift of the machinery. He sighed, knowing he would need time to accept his new reality, but he clutched his omega to his chest, breathing in his scent to relax. “I’m here. I’m in this with you now, baby. It’s you and me, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not allowed to,” Louis said sternly against his neck, kissing him there. Harry grinned as Louis continued, “Never again.”

Harry hummed, dropping his hand to rest on Louis’s petite waist and tugging him closer. So close that the features of his face got lost in the blur. Warring words of incompetence were silenced instantly by a gentle kiss from his omega.

“I like the sound of that,” Harry mumbled between them, thankful for Louis. 

“So do I,” Louis admitted softly. He snuggled into his alpha’s hold, finally home, just as the door flew open. 

The guardsmen that entered the room looked like he’d rather be anywhere rather than interrupting this moment. Harry recognized him as one of the men that used to serve under his father. He looked over to Louis, curious and confused. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Commandant, but your second-in-command needs to see you. He says it’s urgent,” he relayed.

“Thank you, Collins,” Louis said, sitting up. “And remember you can call me Reaper.”

Collins nodded awkwardly, bowing at the waist. “Yes, Reaper,” he said before leaving quickly.

Harry’s brows shot up, an amused smile sliding across his lips at the realization that Louis and the Uprising had managed to take the Grand Hall for their own.

“I missed a lot while I was in and out, didn’t I?”

Louis nodded. “About four days after your amputation surgery, it became official. I’ll explain everything later, Zayn needs me.” He leaned over for a quick kiss, pulling away slowly. “You know, the whole world will be coming after us now.”

Harry leaned back in, never satiated when it came to the omega beside him. He smiled against his lips, words soft and sincere, as confident as he’d ever been. “They can try.”