Hearts of Deceit (ManxMan)

Epilogue: Hans

1 Year Later

Conrad woke with a start.  Covered in sweat, wide-eyed and panting like he'd run the Boston marathon. Misha and I stared, waiting for his breathing to level out. A small silence followed as Conrad stared at a painting on the far side of the room. Then he looked to us with a weak smile.

"Sorry. Nightmares."

"Do you want to talk-"

"Nope." Conrad was already down, his head buried underneath the pillows and blankets. Misha sighed. He followed and laid down behind the delta, hugging him from behind and slowly rubbing away the tension in the redhead's shoulders. I sat up for a bit longer, my mind wandering. Misha glanced up at me after a while. Conrad was asleep. 

"You ok?"

I shook my head and slumped. "It's my fault."

"No. It's not."

It was. Even as Misha sat up and wrapped me in his arms, even as I lay my head on his shoulder and traced circles on his bare chest, I couldn't help but think about the swirling void of disaster that I seemed to inevitably bring wherever I went. If I closed my eyes, I could see my father's face, red, angry, and with a vicious back-handed slap not far behind. The image sent chills up my spine. Sometimes, I could see my father's face peeking out from our closet, outside the window or around the corner of a long corridor. He wasn't there. But he could be. He'd find me eventually. 

It hardly mattered that Dominic was gone for now. The man had connections. I knew what it truly was to be tangled and caught up in the web of the underground, to be in the clutches of powerful alphas, uncaring, cruel and  indifferent. I'd shown up on Conrad's doorstep and brought a glimpse of the pain with me. I'd led him into writhing tentacles waiting beneath the dark abyss. 

Misha kissed my forehead. "You're thinking too much. Again." 

There was a soft silence as I glanced out the window, my eyes caught in the light of the lonely moon. 

"Should I tell Ross? About the hallucinations?"

Misha back-tracked when he felt me tense  in his arms. I must have been shaking, looking ready to cry. 

"No, no, please don't." I bit my lip to stop the trembling.  

"He'll want to help you," Misha tried again. "You know he cares, Hans. He could get you a therapist. The best therapist. You and Conrad could try counseling-"

"Misha, please. I don't want to be more of a burden than I already-"

"You're not a burden."

We both jumped at the voice, low and gruff, although it was distinctly not Ross. Joe stood in the open doorway of the bedroom, cast in the yellow light trickling from the hall. He looked tired and beaten. Anyone would, dealing with his family. His white dress shirt was wrinkled, his tie undone and the slacks he'd thrown on looked ready to fall off at any moment. 

As he threw his tie on Ross's leather chair, he asked, "What are you two talking about? Its two in the goddamned morning."

I looked up to Misha, urging him not to tell. Begging and pleading the best I could before the beta relented and sighed. "Conrad had a nightmare. We were about to go back sleep."

Joe grunted, struggling out of dress shirt. I couldn't help but cast a glance at the way the moonlight hit his bare chest in just the right way. He was a wall of lean, toned muscles. He caught my stare before I could even pretend to look away and held them in a threatening sort of way, letting me know that looking away was no longer an option. He was suddenly on the bed, pulling me from Misha as he shot Conrad's sleeping form a tender look.