Chapter Text
"Get out here, boy."
The words shivered down Nathaniel's back like shards of ice, freezing him in place under his bed, pushing himself as far into the corner as he could go. His father's voice has always scared him. Eyes squeezed shut, he chanted in his head his wish to get far, far away from his childhood house. His breaths were stuttering in and out, lungs too tight and feeling like he was suffocating. He tried so hard to be quiet and pretend he was anywhere but there. He wanted to be anywhere else.
He pictured the sunrise, the breeze on his face and his arms spread wide on the edge of a cliff. He imagined what it might smell like, the crisp salty air and waves crashing below; freedom. He thought about how the birds would fly high above him, and pictured his mother's shifted form flying, wings spread wide. Her brown feathers catching the wind, and her sharp gaze looking down on him. He has only seen her shifted form once, and she had truly been beautiful to watch.
Nathaniel flinches when the footsteps creep closer, towards his bedroom door. He keeps his eyes closed and chants harder in his head - don't come in. Leave me alone. I want to fly away. Don't come in. Don't open the door. Go away.
Nathaniel's tiny hands were clenched hard, trembling and afraid. He's not sure he's ever been so afraid in his 6 years of life, than he is at that moment.
The door creaks open quietly, but Nathaniel keeps his eyes shut tight.
It's because he has his eyes shut tight that he doesn't see his father look under the bed. Doesn't see the arm that silently reaches for him. He isn't prepared for the hand that grabs his arm and hauls him out. He cuts his cry off, not wanting to anger his father more with his noise and tears. He hears the sound of his wrist snapping when he's thrown to the floor, and he feels the slash of a knife across his thigh, close to his hip. Nathaniel's breath hitches at the pain, a keening sound escaping before he could swallow it back.
"Now look what you've made me do. Shut up, boy, or I'll start cutting things off." Nathan drawls patronisingly, glaring down at his son with disgust. Nathaniel tries to keep his cries quiet, but his wrist is so sore, already swelling and looking kind of crooked, while his thigh is burning and the feel of warm blood soaks his pyjamas. Nathan notices how he's cradling his hand and snatches it, causing a yelp and more tears from Nathaniel. Nathan viciously straightens out his wrist and then backhands his son across the face. "Pathetic. Stop crying! Youre going to have to toughen up, I can't have my bloodline shamed by a whelp like you."
Nathaniel sits beside his bed, not wanting to make more of a mess with his blood. He tries to keep his sobs in, but his chest feels like its going to explode. He spends 10 minutes sitting alone like that, not wanting to run into his father if he leaves his room. His mumma finds him then, poking her head into his room and frowning at him. She doesn't say anything, just turns away. Nathaniel's breath catches and fresh tears well in his eyes seeing her leave. A couple sobs make it out despite his best efforts.
His mother returns after a short while, and opens up the first aid kit that she keeps stocked. Nathaniel doesnt know what everything is, seeing everything in a blurry haze from the tears rolling down his cheeks.
She tends to his cut, sticking a bandage down before moving onto his wrist, wrapping it firmly. She doesnt say a word, and has a frown on her face, but Nathaniel is thankful his mumma is there to help him.
He knows now to keep his eyes open when a threat is nearby.
It's Nathaniel's seventh birthday, and Lola smirks at him with a cold gaze. He listens as she tells him about how they're increasing his knife lessons, all the while she traces his freckles with the tip of her favourite skinning knife. She doesnt press down hard enough to cut, but the threat to do exactly as she says is clear.
He finishes his first lesson with 44 shallow cuts on his torso. Lola presses the same knife to his cheek bone, making a little cut below his eye, claiming that he needs to do better tomorrow.
His tears make the cut sting.
Nathaniel sits as still as he can, but his clothes are uncomfortable - too tight. He knows not to speak tonight. The stitches in his side are uncomfortable though, and he can't help but try to alleviate the pressure. The chair creaks slightly as he moves, keeping his gaze elsewhere, as if lost in thought. His attention is squarely on the police in his house thought.
The officers keep glancing at him in the hour they're here. One of them tries to offer a friendly smile but she doesn't quite manage it. Nathan cuts him another glare when Nathaniel shifts again, and the officer catches it.
"Apologies for my son, he's a bit nervous having strangers in his home, you see." The polite smile Nathan shows the officers is unnerving, oddly blank and devoid of any feeling. The officers return the polite smiles that looks more like grimaces, but before long they're on the way out, having no more justificiation to try and pry into Nathan's home and office in particular. The look Nathan send him once theyre gone makes his legs twitch. He glances to the doorway, hoping that if he made a mad dash for it, maybe he could get away. It was futile, he knew, but he still hoped for it. He still dreams of that cliff top - of freedom.
Nathan strode over and grabbed him by his collar, yanking so hard that a few buttons popped loose and skittered away. Nathaniel stared with wide open eyes as his father dragged him a couple rooms down the hall. His mother was ironing his school uniform, looking alert but not overly alarmed. His father shoved him against the wall hard, hand fisting his collar, pressing against his throat and pinning him to the wall like that. His breath whooshed out of his lungs at the force of hitting the wall, and Nathan's fist made him feel like he would never get another breath of air again.
Before he could get his lungs working again, his shirt was roughly pulled off his shoulder, sending more button flying and tearing the material. Nathaniel watched as his father reached over, yanking the iron from Mary. She watched with sharp eyes, but made no move to stop her husband. The iron, still plugged in and scalding hot, was suddenly being pressed against the skin of Nathaniel's shoulder. At first, he didn't feel anything - his body in shock. He still couldn't breathe in, but then the pain came. Now he had another reason he couldn't breathe. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he tried to shove his father away, hands frantic and doing all he could to make the pain stop. Knowing he shouldn't - his father would reprimand Nathaniel again for touching him. Knowing he wasn't strong enough. He was trapped.
Never strong enough!
His breath was nothing more than a wheeze, but he could smell his seared flesh. Could hear the hiss of skin and muscle against hot metal. Could swear he could almost taste it with how his mouth was open, trying desperately to suck in a breath. Finally, after an agonisingly long time, Nathan pulled the iron away. Nathaniel saw his flesh sticking to it, steam swirling in the air. He sucked in a breath, and immediately had to slam his mouth shut as bile rose in his throat. He thought hysterically that Nathan might actually slit his throat if he gets vomit on his shoes.
Later, once his mum has thrown some ointment at him to put on the burn, he realises that he's popped his stitches too. Nathaniel thinks this may be the most pain he's ever been in, in his eight years of life. Closing his eyes tight while he lays in bed that night, he tries not to cry.
The pillow soaks up his tears for him anyways.
Nathaniel is nine years old, and he wonders how he is ever going to beat Romero and Jackson at the hand to hand combat matches. They take turns beating him, careful not to break bones, but enough to leave him black and blue.
He stands back up, every time, even with tears in his eyes.
Nathaniel feels groggy. He's not sure why, but he wants to sleep for a week. He should've been getting ready for breakfast, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. His blankets were so warm and smelt like his own.
At some point in the night he had dragged his spare blanket out the closet and snuggled up in that one too. His pillows were in good spots around his bed, keeping his blankets wrapped on him. Everything smelt so good and safe. It smelt entirely of his own, and he found himself rubbing his hands and face all over his blankets and pillows.
His tenth birthday was 2 months ago, and for the past few months, he had been able to pick up scents easier. Proving that his body was maturing and was preparing itself for presentation. Nathaniel hoped that he would be an alpha like his father, maybe then he would be able to do something right. Maybe then the pain would stop.
He snuggled further into his blankets, feeling the softness of them against his skin, and sighed softly.
Nathaniel feels how his wounds hurt, his scars pull and his bones creak.
Once his mother found him snuggled into what he now realised was his nest, she tried to beat him to break him out of his pre-heat. She hoped that the anxiety and pain reverted the process, giving her more time to prepare.
Neil had felt something instinctual rise inside him, something more than just self-preservation. He had fought back at his mother for the first time in his life, slashing out at her and shoving her away. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he had felt the need to make sure she stayed well away from him. He was scared, and angry, and wanted to be left alone. Mary kept attacking him, her fists raining down on him.
With both Mary and Nathan being alphas, they had both hoped for their son to also be an alpha. They both wanted him to be a powerful weapon, wielded for their own desires - Nathan wanted more territory and to potentially eliminate the Moriyamas, while Mary wanted to take out Nathan and overtake his empire for herself. Neither had thought that Nathaniel would be an omega. His mother was terrified; now her plans had all turned to shit, and she made sure that Nathaniel knew it was his fault. He didn't understand, it was her own poor planning that messed with her plans - he couldn't help being an omega.
Nathaniel eats quietly by himself in his room, his mother having announced that he was sick and needed to be isolated. Nathaniel scoffed, he knew his father would never leave him alone.
Nathaniel forced another sip of his soup, allowing himself a few minutes to wallow in his anger and fear. He may have presented as an omega, but he didn't get the chance to shift and determine what his form is yet. That half of him has lain dormant until his first heat, as it does for all shifters. His mother beating him and causing a pre-heat full of fear has made him anxious about his shifted form. Nathaniel admits to himself that he doesn't know much about his own biology, let alone his designation. He's only ten, he's not sure how he was meant to learn anything about his body when his teacher's restrict his access to the information. There's no way Nathaniel would ask either of his parents or Nathan's pack to explain it to him either.
He hears the footsteps too late, too preoccupied with his thoughts. The door flings open, cracking on the wall, and Nathaniel startles, spilling his soup into his own lap, all over his new nest. It makes him irrationally upset, as well as at the intruder he hasn't even looked at yet. He doesn't need to look - he knows who it is. He feels overwhelmed all of a sudden, like he's on the verge of snapping.
Nathan reaches forward to grab his bowl and throw it at the wall, the ceramic bowl shattering and left over soup splattering all around. He's yelling about Nathaniel stinking of a disgusting male omega, before whipping around and reaching out to grab him. Nathaniel can feel his bones creak again, and his skin pulls taut all over. His gums hurt, and his fingertips tingle. He's not sure what face he's making but he can feel the way his lips peel back in a feral snarl towards his father. It's enough to make Nathan pause, and then a deranged smile stretches his face.
"Well, boy! Look at you!" Nathan grips Nathaniel's chin hard, turning his head back and forth. He's not inspecting the bruises that are forming on his son's face and body, but glancing at his teeth, which have grown considerably longer to form sharp points with large canines. Nathan looks at his son's eyes, noticing the strange pupils and lack of white sclera. Nathaniel reaches up and grips his father's wrist, trying to pry him off, feeling that urge to defend himself from a threat. His attempts to dislodge his father's hand draws attention to the baby claws pricking Nathan's skin. "Looks like you're of some use after all... still got some growing to do though." The look in Nathan's eyes at that moment made Nathaniel want to get far, far away. Pure terror made a low snarl rumble out of him, and press his tiny pinprick claws into Nathan's wrist. "Rest up boy, this is the only heat I'll allow you to have for a while. You may be a disappointment, but my alpha grandson might redeem you." The chuckle that Nathan let's out at that makes Nathaniel shrink away, horrified. "You've wanted some friends, yes Nathaniel? Maybe I can help with that." There's a pause as Nathan releases his chin, only to reach up and grip his hair, making his scalp sting. Nathaniel can't help the sneer becoming more fierce in that moment, a silent warning to let go. Nathan ignores it. "Hmm, yes, that Kevin kid is a wolf shifter, and I've heard talk of a Moreau being pulled into the fold... a big cat of some sort. Even the Italians have a wolverine shifter, from memory. I'll need to scout if one of the smallers gangs have someone suitable, could always use some more loyal people in my pack. Yes, this could work quite nicely." His father's ramblings filled him with horror, he didn't want a mate! He just wanted to be left alone.
Nathaniel shouldn't be surprised that he doesn't get the things he wants.
It's two months since his heat has passed, but he can't seem to shift fully. Only doing partial shifts of his eyes, teeth and claws. He enjoys his eyesight in his shifted form. He had lied to his father, saying nothing is different and providing no more clues to what his shifted form actually is. Nathaniel is sure his shift form is some sort of reptile, but he's not sure what reptiles have such sharp vision, let alone able to see heat signatures in the dark.
Of course Nathan blames him for not being able to shift fully, and Nathaniel is worried that he'll never be able to completely shift. Worried that his parents have somehow interrupted the process and made him broken yet again. He tries not to think of it today though.
Today they're at the Evermore stadium, and will be playing exy. He knows what his father is doing, trying to get Nathaniel to form a friendship with one of the alphas, so that Nathan can manipulate that into a mating bond. Nathaniel doesn't want to be friends with anyone here. As much as he loves playing exy, he can't bring himself to enjoy his time here, knowing he's being watched from the tower. Knowing his father is making deals to try and get leverage on the Moriyamas. These past couple of months have been filled with not only his regular knife lessons, and school lessons, but also his father doing extra lessons on how to run a criminal empire. He says that Nathaniel needs to learn to be a good mate for the future of the Wesninski syndicate, but Nathaniel knows he's full of shit. Nathan would never let his son have any power over his empire. Nathaniel is so tired of watching people die. He's sick of the smell of blood and listening to his father ramble on about how such person was going to double cross him, or how another person wasnt doing their job properly. Kevin yells something at him from across the court, but Nathaniel just glares and looks away. He thinks that if Nathan and Mary can have their differing plans, then he can make some plans of his own. Nathaniel has tried, he really has, to find a way out, but he's just not strong enough.
Maybe I can just pack a bag and walk out the door. Ha!
Nathaniel scoffs at himself, not realising Riko was close enough to hear him.
"Excuse me?! I was trying to talk to you!" Riko's face contorts into a disgusted look, before abruptly changing into a faux surprised look. "Of course, the kid is stupid. Do you even know how to play exy, omega?" The patronising tone and condescending look that follows makes Nathaniel's blood boil. He's sick of being looked down on, so he doesn't hesitate to swing his racquet around the back of Riko's knees and knock the pretentious fucker to his ass. The sharp smile he graces Riko with makes the alpha flinch, before humiliated fury overtakes his features. Riko scrambles to his feet, ungraceful and wobbling on the spot. "You little shit!" He takes a few rushed steps forward and raises his arm for a backhand across Nathaniel's face, before being interrupted.
"Leave him alone, Riko, people are watching." The timidness from Kevin, another alpha, has Nathaniel frowning.
He was such an ass 2 minutes ago, what changed?
Nathaniel watches as Kevin peeks at Riko and flinches back slightly at the look on his face.
Ah, I see. Trouble in paradise.
Riko lowers his arm and demands everyone to get back to practice, Jean a silent shadow to the side, away from everyone.
"Mother, what are you doing?"
Nathaniel watches as some of his comfiest clothes are thrown into a bag, his mother fluttering around the room before heading to the bathroom. His muscles hurt from playing today, he really gave it his all in an attempt to knock the stuck up alphas off their high horse. He shuffles after his mother, growing more confused, and slightly annoyed, by the minute. Mary rushes back into the room, almost knocking him to the floor.
"God damnit Nathaniel! Help me pack your bag! We dont have the time!" She whisper yells into his face. He can't help the curl of his lip when having anyone in his face like that, and subsequently is not surprised by the grip in his hair, yanking him towards his bag. "Don't give me that attitude, boy. You will listen when I give you orders." Nathaniel starts putting some of his pyjamas in the bag, the fluffiest ones he wore during his heat months ago. They felt so nice on his skin and he feels a weird attachment to them now. He waits until his mother is distracted, and sneaks a book he stole from school the other week - Peter Rabbit. He's not sure why he stole it, he could've just checked it out of the school library and brought it home, but for some reason he wanted to keep it for himself, so he couldn't be the last person to borrow it from school.
Ha! Father's lessons coming in handy to steal a children's book. Nathaniel is amused by his thoughts, keeping an eye on his mother popping back up in his doorway and demanding he get his shoes on and follow her. Nathaniel does, thinking about how frazzled his mother is. He watches her jittery form, sharp eyes watching the halls and gliding towards the basement, which has a tunnel that exits behind the garden shed, hidden and near the back road to town. We're fleeing? Nathaniel thinks, incredulously. Why now?
Nathaniel keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to deal with his mother's harsh hands. He thinks that maybe this could be his time to forge his own plans for freedom. If his mother really is taking him away, maybe he can learn all he can from her. He's learnt as much as he's willing to bear from his father and his pack, now it seems it's his mother's turn.
Just a little longer...