Chapter 7: You Can Have Anything

Chapter 7: Chapter 7: You Can Have Anything Misty’s lips trembled. Not with shame. With fury. "Why are you surprised?" she spat. "You’re an omega male—even broken as you are, there are plenty of alphas bidding for your hole. I never understood why they want a man when there are better omegas. Female ones. Ones that actually carry children." Her words echoed off marble and gold; filth dropped into elegance. "You’re nothing but a toy." The words hung in the air like smoke. Even Ophelia gasped, pale hands flying to her mouth. Serathine didn’t move. Not at first. She had known Misty. Her type. The silk-wrapped greed, the narcissism carved beneath powder and lace. But nothing had prepared her to hear that—something so barbaric, so deeply wrong—come from a mother’s mouth. She looked at Lucas. The boy who barely faltered. The boy who didn’t flinch when called a toy. Who stood, hands loose, eyes clear, like he had already buried those words years ago. And Serathine? She trembled. With fury. Because whatever game she thought this was—whatever court distraction she thought Lucas might become—it changed in that moment. "Guards," she said, her voice low but crackling like the edge of a fuse. "Escort the guests. And make sure Lady Misty’s misstep is reported to the City Guard." That turned heads. Andrew paled. "You can’t—" "She laid hands on a noble ward and slandered a citizen of the Empire in my house," Serathine replied, her voice silk over steel. "If you find that difficult to understand, I’m sure the constables will be happy to read you the penal code. All of it." Ophelia stood abruptly, near tears. "Please—Lady Serathine, I didn’t know—" "You should have," Serathine said, not unkind but utterly final. "And now you do." Two guards stepped forward. Misty recoiled, but there was no dramatic resistance. Just a tight-jawed glare at Lucas and a hissing, "You’re still nothing without me." Serathine took one sharp step forward. "Enough." And this time, Misty backed down. Dragged not by arms, but by the weight of the eyes in the room that no longer saw her as anything worth defending. When the doors finally shut behind her, Serathine turned. The butler stepped forward silently, as if the room hadn’t just cracked in half. On the silver tray in his gloved hands lay a neatly folded towel, chilled to precision. Serathine didn’t need to speak. She took it. Dismissed him with a slight nod. And then, without a word, she crossed the remaining space between them. She raised her hand slowly, giving him time to step away if he wished. He didn’t. The cloth touched his cheek, cool against the burn, the softness a stark contrast to everything that had just happened. She held it there—not pressing, just resting. Like something sacred. Like something that deserved care. "I’m not even of age yet; couldn’t she wait a few more days to start finding buyers?" His tone was even, quiet. The kind of quiet that comes not from confusion but from understanding far too well what you’ve always been made to be. Property. Not yet legal, but already on display. Almost eighteen, and already sold twice. "Can you find out who the second buyer is?" Lucas asked. "The alpha?" Serathine paused, placing the now warm towel on the table. Her movements were graceful, but her eyes didn’t leave him. She looked at Lucas like she was weighing something—fighting to decide whether to respond with what was best for him... or what he asked for. She sighed, low and barely audible. Then choose the second. "Yes," she said. "I can find anything I want to know. But are you sure this is what you want?" Lucas didn’t answer right away. He stared at the window again, though there was nothing to see but reflection—his reflection. Seventeen, but not really. Alive, but not untouched. "I want the truth," he said finally. "No matter what it is." Serathine tilted her head, studying him like he was no longer a fragile thing but a dangerous one. A quiet blade left out in the open. "Very well," she said. "You’ll have it." Then, almost to herself, "I should’ve known Misty would try something." Her voice lost none of its elegance, but it cooled. Hardened. "I’m not surprised that Caelan asked me to get you out of that house today. I just didn’t think she’d move this fast." Lucas didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The bruised flush still lingering on his cheek said everything. "I’ll send for your luggage," she added, the word luggage feeling too generous for what Misty likely hadn’t sold or stolen by now. "And if anything’s missing—don’t worry. You’ll have better." Lucas’s jaw twitched slightly. Not in protest. Not in defiance. Just... restraint. He’d spent years being told what he deserved. This was the first time someone offered more without expecting his body in return. She gave him a glance sideways. "You’ll find nightclothes in the wardrobe. And someone will bring tea if you ask." A pause. "Or something stronger." Lucas thought of going to sleep. Of curling into the luxury he’d never had, into the silence without knives behind it. Maybe even trying to count what had changed this time around—what was different from before. But nothing came to mind. Except... The dessert. He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth pulling upward—dry, ironic, not quite soft. "Can I have... ice cream?" Serathine turned her head over her shoulder, her brow arching with the same effortless power she wielded like a second skin. "Darling," she said, smiling now, just a little, "you can have anything." And for the first time since waking in the temple, Lucas let himself believe it might be true.