The Omega and The Arrogant Alpha (by Kylie) novel Chapter 274

He doesn’t startle. He doesn’t apologize for being there. He just looks up at me, eyes steady, taking in what I didn’t say out loud.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Neither could I.”

He shifts to make space. I sit beside him, the towel still damp against my thighs. The air between us is thick with everything we haven’t said yet. The kind of tension that doesn’t need words to exist.

“They’re saying things,” he says quietly.

“Yes.”

“About you.”

“Yes.”

“About us.”

I don’t answer right away. The word us feels heavier than it should, like it’s been put under a microscope.

“They’re wrong,” he adds. Not defensive. Just factual.

“I know.”

He watches me for a moment. Not searching for reassurance. Just paying attention.

“You’re angry,” he says.

“Yes.”

“And you’re scared.”

That lands harder. It slips past the armor I keep polished for everyone else and presses into something softer underneath.

I swallow. “Yes.”

We sit with that for a while. The house creaks softly around us, settling into night. Somewhere outside, a patrol passes, boots on gravel a steady rhythm that reminds me the world doesn’t pause just because I need it to.

“I’m afraid of wanting anything,” I say finally. The words come out flat, like I’ve already turned them over too many times to feel sharp. “Because everything I want becomes a liability. Or a weapon. Or leverage for someone else.”

Ben nods. “That makes sense.”

No argument. No reassurance wrapped in optimism. Just acknowledgment. He doesn’t try to talk me out of it. He doesn’t pretend the risk isn’t real.

“I’m tired of hiding that,” I admit. “Of pretending I’m made of policy and restraint and nothing else.”

He doesn’t say you don’t have to. He doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay or promise it won’t cost me. He just listens, presence steady, unflinching.

When I finally turn onto my side, facing him, something settles into place with surprising calm. Not resolve. Not defiance. Acceptance.

I can’t stop people from trying to weaponize my humanity.

But I can stop helping them by pretending it doesn’t exist.

Tomorrow, I’ll still be careful. Still strategic. Still precise. I won’t give them easy angles or careless mistakes.

But I won’t disappear parts of myself to make others comfortable anymore.

I close my eyes with that decision clear and solid in my chest.

No hiding.

Not from them.

Not from myself.