FRAGILE

Chapter 13: What He Deserves - 2

Maximus paced the length of the hallway outside his room, his mind a churning mess of frustration and helplessness. He had been speaking with the pack doctor for nearly an hour now, but the conversation had left him with more questions than answers. His thoughts were racing, clashing violently with the overwhelming desire to protect his mate, to heal him, but unsure of how to do it without causing more harm.

His conversation with the doctor had only heightened his frustration, and he couldn't shake the sense of helplessness gnawing at him. He was an Alpha, a leader accustomed to control, but this situation—his mate—was something entirely beyond his grasp.

The doctor's words had been steady, calm, as though he was discussing the recovery of any normal wolf. But Maximus knew better. His mate was far from normal—his mate had been shattered, piece by piece, and nothing about this situation was simple.

"You can't approach him the way you would a wolf from your pack," the doctor had warned, his tone steady yet firm. "He's been conditioned for years to see himself as nothing more than property. You can't undo that in a day or even a week. It'll take time, and you'll have to be careful."

Maximus had clenched his jaw, barely able to contain the anger simmering beneath the surface. His mate—his mate—had been reduced to this. Treated like an object, trained to believe he was nothing more than a slave. Maximus had spent his life protecting his pack, ensuring they knew they were valued and safe, yet the one person he was destined to care for above all others had been shattered beyond recognition.

The doctor had delivered the worst of the advice with calm pragmatism. "Treat him like the pet he believes he is, at least at first. It's not ideal, but it's the only way to reach him. He's been broken down so far that he can't process the idea of freedom. You'll need to build trust. Slowly. Show him that he's safe with you. Only then can you help him understand what his life could be."

Maximus had nearly growled in frustration. Treat him like a pet? The very idea revolted him. But he had seen it—the way his mate had looked at him, the panic in his eyes, the immediate submission. His mate didn't see himself as anything more than a servant, a slave to be used and punished.

"You can't overwhelm him with the bond," the doctor had added. "He doesn't understand what it means to be your mate yet, and pushing him too soon could do more harm than good."

Maximus stopped pacing, running a hand through his dark hair, trying to get a handle on the chaos of his emotions. He was an Alpha, but right now, he felt powerless. His wolf raged inside him, desperate to protect their mate, to pull him close and shield him from every threat. But that wasn't possible—not yet. His mate had been through too much. He had been broken in ways that Maximus couldn't even begin to fathom.

Taking a deep breath, Maximus turned back toward the door. He had to be patient. He had to do this right, no matter how hard it was. His mate needed him, and he would do whatever it took to help him heal.

But as Maximus stepped into the room, the air seemed to freeze. The bed was empty.

His heart skipped a beat before his eyes found the boy—crouched on the floor near the door, curled into a tight punishment position. Maximus's breath hitched, and then he saw the blood.

The belt lay neatly beside the boy, and the scissors lay near the bed, their edges stained with crimson. For a moment, all Maximus could do was stare, his heart pounding in his chest as the reality of what had happened sank in. His mate—this fragile, broken boy—had punished himself.

Maximus rushed forward, every instinct screaming at him to stop the bleeding, to comfort his mate, but panic twisted in his gut. The cuts on the boy's chest were deep, jagged, and raw. Blood seeped from the wounds, staining his pale skin. But the boy didn't flinch. He remained still, head bowed low, voice barely a whisper.

"Please punish 2197, Sir. I have attempted disciplinary action for the failure to follow assigned Rule 37 and hope that this pleases my Master. If it does not, I submit to any pain to correct my infraction."

The words cut through Maximus like a knife. His mate didn't understand—he truly believed this was normal, that he had to punish himself for some imagined failure. Maximus's hands trembled as he knelt beside him, his fingers brushing gently over the torn flesh on the boy's chest. The boy tensed at his touch but remained still, resigned to whatever came next.

Maximus felt his heart break he held him tight to his chest, mindful of his tender flesh. But the boy didn't respond. He didn't relax. Maximus could see the fear still coiling in his mate's small frame, the way he braced himself for pain that wasn't coming. Maximus swallowed hard, fighting back the rising wave of helplessness. The doctor had warned him that this would take time—that his mate wouldn't understand freedom, wouldn't know how to accept kindness.

And now he could see that the doctor was right.

Maximus gently lifted his mate from the floor, holding him as though he were made of glass, his hands trembling with the urge to protect him from the world. The boy's body was stiff, unresponsive, but Maximus pressed on, carefully laying his mate on his bed. The boy's body twisted coiling back into the submissive position he had found him in only moments ago. Maximus wracked his brain as he sought a way to help his mate relax, he gently cradled his boy and carried him into the bathroom.

The boy flinched slightly as Maximus set him down on the cool counter, but he didn't resist. Maximus turned on the faucet, letting the warm water run, clear and clean, into the sink. He soaked a rag in the water and wrung it out, watching the boy closely for any sign of reaction.

When Maximus pressed the warm cloth against his mate's chest, cleaning the deep cuts, the boy's eyes flickered with confusion. His body stiffened, and Maximus could tell he didn't know how to respond to the gentleness.

Maximus continued to clean the wounds, taking his time, trying to show through every movement that there was no threat here, no punishment. Only care. Love that his mate so deserved.

"So, you like warm water?" Maximus asked softly, his voice calm and even, though inside he was a storm of emotions.

"Yes, Sir. Very much, Sir," the boy whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the running water. There was something so fragile in the way he spoke, as if admitting such a small preference was dangerous.

Maximus's heart twisted painfully. His mate had been denied even the most basic of comforts, reduced to thinking that liking warm water was a luxury he didn't deserve. Guilt and anger swirled in Maximus's chest, but he kept his focus on the task at hand. He had to be patient. He had to show his mate that this wasn't a punishment, that he wasn't here to hurt him.

When the wounds were clean, Maximus turned toward the large tub, filling it with more warm water. The boy's wide eyes followed his every move, confusion still etched on his face. Maximus could see the hesitation, the fear of the unknown. But he didn't push. He let the boy watch as the water filled the tub, letting him adjust to the new reality.

Slowly, Maximus lifted him again, cradling his fragile form as he lowered him into the bath. The boy's body tensed as the warm water surrounded him, but after a moment, the tension began to melt away. A soft, involuntary sigh escaped his lips, and Maximus felt a flicker of hope rise in his chest.

For the first time since he had found him, his mate seemed to be at ease. The warm water soothed his battered body, and Maximus could see the boy's shoulders relax, if only slightly. It wasn't much, but it was something. A small victory.

Maximus knelt beside the tub, watching his mate closely. His heart ached for the boy—for the suffering he had endured, for the scars that ran deeper than the physical ones. But this was a start. He would take this small moment of peace and build on it. Slowly, carefully, he would show his mate what it meant to be more than just a slave.

As he watched the boy sink deeper into the warmth of the water, Maximus allowed himself a brief moment of joy. His mate, for the first time, looked like he was experiencing something close to comfort. There was a long road ahead of them, but Maximus would walk every step of it with him.

And someday, he would know his mate's name.

Someday, he would see the boy heal and reclaim the life that had been stolen from him.