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Chapter four:The truth revealed
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2025-08-01 07:48:40Alex sat curled up in the corner of his bed, his sketchbook forgotten on the floor. The house was quiet, except for the distant hum of the dryer and the occasional creak from the old hallway floorboards. His lips still tingled from Brian’s kiss, and his thoughts spun like a storm.
He wasn’t angry. He was confused, sure, but mostly… terrified. Of what the kiss meant. Of the bond that felt too real. Of the fact that the only person who made his heart race was the one person he wasn’t supposed to want. A soft knock at his door pulled him out of his thoughts. Rachel peeked in. “Sweetheart? Can we talk?” Alex nodded silently. She entered slowly, eyes gentle. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Are you… okay? You’ve seemed… distant.” Alex’s voice cracked. “Do you believe in fate?” Rachel raised an eyebrow, then slowly nodded. “I do. It’s how I found Daniel. Why?” Alex hesitated. “If… If someone you weren’t supposed to love turned out to be the person fate chose for you, what would you do?” Rachel studied him. “Is this about Brian?” His breath caught. She smiled softly. “I’m your mother. I’ve seen the way you look at him. And I’ve seen how he looks at you.” Alex’s eyes widened. “You knew?” “I suspected. But I also knew that both of you would need to figure it out on your own. The bond doesn’t always come in a neat little package, Alex.” He swallowed. “We’re mates. We felt it. At the Moon Festival.” Rachel sat beside him, wrapping her arms around his trembling body. “I’m not mad. I’m not scared. I just want you to be safe—and happy.” He buried his face in her shoulder, tears falling freely now. “It’s wrong. He’s my stepbrother.” Rachel held him tighter. “You’re not blood. And the bond doesn’t care about the titles humans created. All that matters is what’s real.” Across the house, Brian sat with his father in the study, his hands clenched into fists. Daniel poured a drink, eyeing his son carefully. “So. You kissed him?” Brian didn’t deny it. Daniel sat back. “Is he your mate?” Brian nodded. Daniel sighed, rubbing his temples. “I knew this might happen. You’ve been circling each other like wolves since the wedding.” “I didn’t want this,” Brian said. “I tried to fight it.” “And now?” “I want him. But I also want to be good for him.” Daniel finally looked up, his voice quiet but firm. “Then be. Protect him. Honor him. Don’t make the same mistakes I did with Rachel in the early days.” Brian met his father’s gaze. “You’re… not angry?” “I was raised by the old rules. But I also know love when I see it. Just don’t break him. Omegas don’t heal easily.” That night, for the first time in weeks, the Carter-Monroe house felt quiet in a different way. Like everyone had finally stopped running from the truth.
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MY BROTHER IS MY MATE What Slipped Through the Cracks
The leak didn’t announce itself. There was no dramatic drop, no encrypted blast across channels already primed for outrage. It appeared the way truth often did now—embedded, almost polite, slipped into a space where it was assumed no one would look too closely. Alex felt it as a sudden tightening in the bond, sharp and specific, like a finger tapping glass. 💭 Someone found something they weren’t supposed to. Kyla’s slate chimed a second later. She stared at it, then looked up slowly. “We have a problem.” Brian straightened. ❄️ “Define problem.” “A memo,” Kyla said. “Internal. Council Strategy Subcommittee. Circulated three months ago.” Alex didn’t rush her. He’d learned that rushing people when they carried fragile things only made them drop them. “What kind of memo?” he asked. Kyla swallowed. “The kind that answers the question they keep pretending no one asked.” She projected it onto the wall. It wasn’t inflammatory. That was the worst part. No slurs. No threats. No gra
MY BROTHER IS MY MATE The Long Silence Between Motions
The quiet after a ruling was never empty. Alex knew that now. It had texture—thin in some places, heavy in others—like air before a storm that refused to arrive. The courts had spoken just enough to slow the Council’s hand, and in response the Council did what institutions did best when they could not win outright. They waited. The bond reflected it immediately. Not tension, not urgency—drag. A subtle pull on attention, a dulling at the edges where adrenaline used to live. 💭 This is how they exhaust you. “They’ve entered delay mode,” Kyla said, scanning the latest updates. “Requests for extensions. Supplemental briefs. Jurisdictional clarifications.” Brian leaned against the counter, arms folded. ❄️ “They’re betting people can’t hold this pace.” “They’re betting on life,” Alex said quietly. “Jobs. Kids. Rent. Fatigue.” He didn’t say it like an accusation. Just a fact. The bond hummed softly—not pushing him to respond, not offering solutions. It had learned, like Alex, that
MY BROTHER IS MY MATE The Day The Law Listened
The Council chose the courts because the streets had stopped answering them. Alex felt the shift before the filings went public—the bond tightening into a careful stillness, the way a body braces before a cold plunge. Not fear. Anticipation. The kind that comes when something long ignored finally demands attention. “They’ve moved,” Kyla said, eyes scanning the slate. “Emergency injunctions. Narrow language. Very clean.” Brian leaned closer. ❄️ “Against what, exactly?” “Against ambiguity,” Kyla replied. “They’re asking the courts to compel registration under the banner of public safety—no mention of Unbound, no mention of the bond.” Alex nodded slowly. “They’re trying to make it procedural.” 💭 If they can make it boring, they can make it permanent. The filings spread across districts in a coordinated pattern—jurisdiction shopping, friendly benches, precedent stitched together like a quilt meant to smother. The Council didn’t need to win everywhere. Just once. Just enough to c
MY BROTHER IS MY MATE When Lies Trip Over Truth
The smear didn’t arrive all at once. It crept. Alex felt it first as a sour note in the bond—uneven, discordant, like a rhythm trying to imitate itself and failing. Not anger. Not fear. Suspicion. 💭 They’re testing which version of reality people will accept. Brian watched the feeds with a soldier’s stillness. ❄️ “They’re being careful. No direct accusations.” Kyla snorted softly. “That’s how you know it’s coordinated.” Headlines bloomed in neutral tones: QUESTIONS RAISED ABOUT UNBOUND INFLUENCE WHO REALLY SPEAKS FOR THE MOVEMENT? CONCERNS OVER ALPHA INVOLVEMENT No lies. Just angles. Alex closed his eyes, letting the bond settle. He felt the pull of curiosity ripple through it—people leaning in, not to condemn, but to understand. The Council had misjudged something fundamental. 💭 They think doubt weakens trust. It doesn’t. Secrecy does. Brian exhaled slowly. ❄️ “They’re painting me as the hidden hand.” Alex smiled faintly. “You’re terrible at hiding.” Brian’s mouth c
MY BROTHER IS MY MATE The Weight of The Anchor
The bond was quiet. Not gone. Not withdrawn. Watchful. Brian noticed it the way soldiers notice silence on a battlefield—not as peace, but as a pause before something decides to move. Alex slept curled against him, breath shallow with exhaustion, fingers twisted into Brian’s sleeve as if his body knew what his mind could no longer guard against. Brian didn’t shift. He had learned long ago that stillness could be an act of protection. The bond brushed him gently, not demanding, not clinging. It had changed since Alex stepped back. Where it once surged toward him with Alex’s emotions braided through it, now it recognized Brian as something else entirely. Not a center. An anchor. 💭 And anchors get targeted. The summons arrived without noise. No alarms. No raised voices. Just a clean message on a secured channel—formal, neutral, impossible to ignore. Council Mediation Request. Mandatory Attendance. Kyla was already at the door when Brian rose. Her face was tight. “They’re be
MY BROTHER IS MY MATE The Shape of Wanting
The bond did not sleep. It rested. Alex noticed the difference in the quiet moments—when the city noise dulled, when feeds went still, when even the Council’s signals faded into static. The bond no longer filled every space. It waited. And waiting, Alex realized, was a form of wanting. 💭 Not need. Not hunger. Want. He sat on the edge of the railcar bunk, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together. For the first time in weeks, the bond wasn’t telling him where to look. It wasn’t echoing a thousand choices. It was simply there, warm and attentive, like a presence that trusted him not to perform. Brian stood in the doorway, watching him with careful eyes. ❄️ “You’re quiet.” Alex smiled faintly. “I’m listening.” “To what?” “To what remains when I stop holding everything.” The bond pulsed—soft, affirming. Brian stepped inside, sitting beside him. Their shoulders brushed, familiar and grounding. ❄️ “And what do you hear?” Alex closed his eyes. “I hear… desire,” he said slowly
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