The room felt unbearably quiet after the boss stormed out. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog, and I could feel it pressing on my chest as I sat there, holding Nine close. His breaths were slow, almost shallow, as he rested against me, his head nestled against my shoulder. His warmth was still there, still so comforting, but I could feel something else brewing beneath the surface—something that tugged at my heart with each passing second.
I could feel Nyx growing restless inside me, a quiet rumble in her chest. She didn't like the silence, the way it stretched out between us.
And then, in the midst of the quiet, Nine spoke, his voice a soft whisper that made my heart ache.
"Alpha…" His voice was barely audible, like he was unsure if he even had the right to speak. But his words were clear enough. "Are… are you okay?"
I looked down at him, startled by the question. He was asking about me, when he was the one who had just gone through hell. The guilt in his voice was so thick that it made my stomach twist.
His violet eyes—those eyes that always seemed to pull me in—were filled with something I couldn't place. Fear? Regret?
He shifted slightly in my arms, as if the weight of his own emotions was too much for him to carry. I could feel him tense up, his body still trembling faintly from the aftermath of his heat.
"Alpha…" His voice cracked as he spoke again, and I had to fight back the sudden urge to pull him closer, to shelter him from the pain I knew he was feeling. "I… I didn't want to put you in this position. I didn't want to make them hurt you."
The guilt in his words hit me like a blow to the chest. I tightened my arms around him instinctively, as if I could somehow absorb the weight of his self-loathing. But he wasn't finished.
"I know I'm not… worth anything," he continued, his words barely more than a whisper. "I'm not worth your love. You don't have to stay with me. You can leave. I won't hold it against you. I just… I just didn't want to make things worse for you."
His voice faltered as the words spilled out, and I could feel the weight of his self-deprecation settling over us like a thick blanket. My heart ached at how broken he sounded—like he didn't believe he deserved anything good, anything kind. Like he was convinced that everything he'd been through had somehow tainted him beyond repair.
"Don't say that," I whispered, my voice rough, but steady. I had to stop him. I had to make him understand. "Don't ever say that, Nine."
But he didn't seem to hear me. His eyes were downcast, his hands trembling as they fidgeted with the fabric of my shirt. He couldn't even look me in the eye as he spoke again.
"You… you shouldn't have to take care of me like this," he murmured. "I'm nothing but trouble. I can't even—" He broke off with a choked sound, and for a moment, I thought he might start crying. I could feel his chest hitch as if he was on the verge of breaking, but no tears came. His shoulders trembled against me, and I could feel how desperately he was trying to hold it all in. He was so afraid of burdening me, so afraid of pushing me away with his pain.
"Nine, look at me," I said softly, my hand gently cupping his chin and tilting his face up toward mine. He resisted at first, but I didn't let go. Slowly, his eyes met mine, and I saw the pain and guilt there, raw and unfiltered.
His eyes were glistening, and for the first time, I could see the tears just behind them, like he was fighting them back with everything he had. The brokenness was so clear now—the way his emotions had finally reached the point where he couldn't hold them inside anymore. He was on the verge of breaking down, and I could feel the pressure building in his chest, his breath quickening.
"You are not worthless," I told him, my voice firm, but gentle. "You're everything to me. Do you hear me? Everything."
His breath hitched in his throat, and I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He wasn't crying yet, but it was so close. I could feel it. His lips trembled, and his face scrunched slightly, like he was holding back sobs.
"Alpha…" His voice was small, fragile, like a child asking for reassurance. It broke something inside me, and I pulled him closer, pressing his head against my chest. I could feel his heartbeat under my hand, the tremors still racking his body. He was fighting against the tears, but it was becoming harder for him to keep them at bay.
"You are worth it," I whispered into his hair, my hand stroking the back of his neck in a slow, calming motion. "You've always been worth it. Don't you ever think you aren't."
He let out a soft, shaky breath, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tried to steady himself. But I could feel the dam inside him cracking, the flood of emotions ready to break free. He let out a small, strangled sob into my chest, and I held him tighter, running my hand gently over his back, trying to soothe him.
"I won't leave you," I promised him, my hand continuing to stroke his hair. "Not now. Not ever."
He nodded weakly, his face still pressed against me, and I felt his tears soak into my shirt. I didn't care. I just held him, my heart aching with every sob that wracked his body. I couldn't fix what had happened to him, couldn't erase the pain he'd endured, but I could be here for him. I could show him that he wasn't alone.
For the first time, I felt him start to release—his sobs soft, but growing in intensity. His body shook with each one, but I didn't let go. I just held him, letting him cry as much as he needed, knowing that this moment was the only thing I could give him right now. His trust in me was raw and fragile, but I would never break it. I would never leave him.
"Shh," I whispered into his hair, my voice soothing. "I'm here. You're safe now."
He didn't say anything else, but the tears kept coming, and I didn't mind. All I could do was hold him, keep him close, and let him know, with every ounce of my being, that he wasn't alone. That he would never be alone again.