Sneak Peek of Nobody's Son's Next Chapter
I know it's been a while. I'm trying to update soon, but in the meantime, here's a little sneak peek <3
Scott tried to remind himself that this was an honor. He wasn’t sure how many more Winter Games he had in him, but this year felt special because his pup was experiencing it for the first time.
Ilya was reaching out more, mostly memes or emojis, but at least it was something. The bond was more open than it had been before, and it was almost too much. Which is one of the reasons Scott was here in this tiny diner with Vaughny, pretending to pay attention when in reality he was studying Shane Hollander.
The young Alpha was sitting at a table by himself, looking at his phone
And then Vaughny, picking up on that Scott was watching the Canadian for some reason, took matters into his own hands. “Hollander, what’s up, motherfucker?”
Always polite, Shane said hello and shook their hands
“Latvia and Russia tonight. Bet Rozy’s feeling the pressure.” Vaughny chuckled.
Scott frowned. He could feel how much this mattered to Ilya. The kid had been wound so tight with something heavier than just pressure or nerves. That worried Scott. He knew how dangerous Russia was for male Omegas, so dangerous that Holly had Ilya on a much stronger dose than she normally recommended, but they couldn’t risk discovery…
Which was why Scott was here.
Shane and Ilya weren’t subtle. Too young. Too reckless. Too convinced they were the exception to every rule.
Scott knew Ilya understood the stakes.
The Omega had spent his entire life hiding what he really was.
As far as Scott knew, the kid didn’t know Ilya’s true designation. And if he didn’t know, there was no way he understood how dangerous Russia really was for Ilya.
“Hey, what’s Roz saying about all this?” Vaughn asked.
Shane’s smile flickered. “I don’t know,” he admitted with an awkward shrug. “Nothing to me, that’s for sure… I think he knows Canada’s got this in the bag."
“Nah, uh.” Vaughn elbowed Scott. “Not this year, baby. We’re fucking coming for ya!”
“Okay, okay.” Shane laughed, his smile finally looking genuine.
Despite all of Scott’s instincts screaming at him to view the younger Alpha as a threat, Hollander was just a pup himself. He could see a softness in the polite, soft-spoken Alpha—something he understood why Ilya was so drawn to.
“You look great in silver, Vaughny. Don’t even stress.”
Vaughn stared. “Was that a chirp, Holzy?!”
Scott found himself laughing.
Somehow thirty minutes later he was still sitting there, eating frozen yogurt with Vaughn and Hollander while trying not to like his pup’s Alpha… Nope, not his Alpha! They were way too fucking young for that.
“Does your room have that smell?” Shane asked.
“Yes, yes, it does,” Scott said.
“Is it black mold? That’s what JJ thinks it is.”
“He’s probably right,” Scott said. “The good news is we won't be here long enough—”
“Alright, so tonight there’s Russia-Latvia. But before that there’s men’s figure skating,” Vaughn interrupted.
“My buddy Joe’s competing,” Shane said. “We trained together. Would you guys be cool to do that? I’d love to show up for him.”
“Hell yeah,” Vaughn said, actually serious for once. “I’ll show up for any dude who's got the balls to do that.”
Shane frowned. “What do you mean?”
Vaughn lowered his voice. “I mean your buddy's probably an Omega, right?”
Shane opened his mouth. “I don’t know if—”
“It’s brave as hell,” Vaughn continued. “Especially here.”
“Because he’s an Omega?” Shane asked quietly.
“Partly.” Vaughn glanced around the diner. “Because he’s gay. Because he’s an Omega. Russia isn’t exactly known for being safe for folks like that. Haven’t you noticed the extra security around the openly out athletes or the Omegas?” Vaughn asked.
“Russia’s ‘sposed to leave ours alone during the games, but I’ve heard stories. Tourists disappearing, getting jumped, shit like that. And that’s nothing compared to what they do to their own. Hell, there aren’t any male Omegas on their teams. Not even the figure skaters. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve even seen a single one. Seen plenty of the women–all wearing those fucking collars—but not one male Omega.”
Scott's nails dug into his palm. Before he could stop himself, he reached for the bond.
Ilya. Like fog rolling over the ocean—distant, melancholy, impossible to hold. But he was safe. Still his impossible, stubborn pup.
“Fucking balls of steel.”
