Chapter 196

Aiden

After that call with Noah, I tried to keep my word and keep my spirits up for him. God knows he needed it. Every time he called, I answered with my heart in my damn hand, trying to sound steady, normal, like I wasn’t falling apart in a city that no longer belonged to me. I asked about his day, listened to whatever he wanted to talk about, told him stories about mine even if there wasn’t much to tell. I asked about his team, his classes, his family—anything that mattered to him. I did everything I could to give him something to hold on to.

But deep down, I felt like an outsider. Completely cut out of the life I used to have. I wasn’t his coach anymore, wasn’t part of the college, wasn’t even part of the damn state. And the truth was simple and heavy: I didn’t belong here anymore. Not in this version of Texas. Not in the life that existed before everything blew up.

And in a way, I knew I had to move on—even if it was temporary. Not from him. Never from him. But from the version of my life that had burned to the ground.

It hadn’t even been two weeks when my real estate agent called.

There had been an offer on my house.

A good one.

She sounded excited, asking if I wanted to come see the paperwork, if I wanted to talk details. But the second she said the price, something inside me just… settled. Quiet. Like the decision had been made long before she ever called.

Of course someone wanted the house.

Of course it was time.

I didn’t have the team anymore.

I didn’t have the job I moved here for.

I didn’t have the future I’d built for myself in this place.

The only reason I ever came to Texas was for the college, the team, the new career I was supposed to build. I had big dreams back then—dreams of championships and legacy and building something meaningful.

That version of my life didn’t exist anymore.

The house didn’t belong to that person.

Texas didn’t belong to that person.

And I wasn’t staying here out of nostalgia or denial.

I accepted the offer.

Just like that, the house was sold.

I found a small, temporary rental in Houston. Far enough from college town that I wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into Noah and his future in-laws… or any board member who now thought of me as a sex offender. The whole damn place was contaminated with painful memories, whispers, and looks I didn’t want to see again. Houston was neutral ground. Heavy, quiet, and empty, but neutral.

And the Dominion was there.

That helped. Not emotionally—nothing helped that—but practically. I could take shifts, earn money, and save every cent from the house sale for the day Noah and I finally got out. It wasn’t the life I wanted, but it was the life I had, and for now that had to be enough.

Hale put me on the training calendar right away: supervising scenes, managing dungeon prep, filling in where needed. My first week working as a Master again, I was setting up the main room when someone stopped in front of me so abruptly I almost dropped the cuffs I was holding.

I looked up.

Micah stood there, in all his naked glory, like he’d seen a damn ghost.

“Sir—holy shit,” he breathed out, stopping right in front of me. “When Master Hale said you might be joining us again, I couldn’t believe it. I thought he’d gotten the memo wrong. But then, I heard you were training again and I couldn’t wait—”

I lifted a hand, cutting him off gently but firmly.

“Micah, before you go any further… I’m not training subs anymore.” I kept my voice quiet, calm. “I’m supervising masters now. Teaching, not taking on students.” I exhaled. “And look—it’s really good to see you. I never got to thank you properly for what you did for Noah and me that day. But if you walked into this club expecting me to train you again… I can’t do that. What we had was a mistake. It’s over.”

Micah blinked once.

Then cocked his head.

Then smirked.

“Wow,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “Why don’t you tell me what you really feel, Mr. Big-Shot Mercer? What, am I not good enough for you anymore?”

My stomach dropped. “Micah, that’s not… I didn’t mean—”

He burst out laughing, shaking his head.

“I’m messing with you, Sir.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Relax. I’m not here for you. I just wanted to say I couldn’t wait to catch up and fill you in on my own news.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “My updates are probably a bit long for me to share during my shift. Maybe we can talk after? Catch up properly.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning.

I frowned, glancing around the playrooms. “But if you’re not here for me… what are you doing? Filling in for a scene? Checking out some of the new masters? A couple of the dominants I’m working with, could be a good match.”

Micah opened his mouth, but before he could answer, a voice cut through the hallway behind him—smooth, amused, and unmistakably commanding.

“There you are.”

Master Hale approached with elegant, unhurried steps, eyes glinting with something playful.

“I was about to scald you for taking so long,” Hale said, looking directly at Micah, then shifting his attention to me. “But I see you’ve located your previous master.”

Micah immediately bowed his head and kneeled by Hale’s legs in one fluid motion, his body slotting into the position of a trained submissive like he’d been doing it for years. Hale rested a hand on Micah’s hair—gentle, possessive, claiming.

I blinked.

I wasn’t sure if the surprise hit my chest or my gut first.

I cleared my throat. “Actually… I was just suggesting that maybe one of the new masters I’m working with could be a good match for Micah. Someone I could supervise and—”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hale interrupted, his thumb stroking Micah’s temple in a way that made the boy melt against his leg.

“I took Micah under my wing a couple of weeks ago,” Hale said, tone warm but filled with authority. “He is now my personal submissive.” He gave me a respectful nod. “I hope that is acceptable to you, Mr. A.”

For a moment, I just stared at them.

Micah, glowing with pride at Hale’s feet.

Master Hale, steady hand resting on his new boy, confident and serene.

And something inside me softened.

I smiled—genuinely, relieved. “Perfectly fine by me. Congratulations. Truly. I’m glad you found each other.”

Micah looked up at me with a shy grin. “It was great seeing you again, Sir. I look forward to catching up after tonight’s sessions.”

I nodded—a sense of nostalgia invading me. Not because of Micah, but because I realized I might never have again what they both had.

That night, I told Micah the news—being caught, fired, threatened in every possible way by the villain of the story. Noah’s upcoming wedding, the damn contract, his family, the lawyers refusing to help, my house being sold, my relocation to Houston.... To this day, I still have no idea why I told him all of that. Maybe because, after all. I had no one else to talk to.

When I finished, Micah just stared at me, stunned. He blinked slowly.

“Holy shit… you weren’t kidding about needing time to catch me up. Wow. I’m so sorry. That motherfucker… and his bitch daughter—”

“She doesn’t know anything,” I cut in. “She’s unaware of her father’s blackmail.”

“She’s unaware or stupid?” he countered. “How can she not see the dude is not that into her? I mean… how blind can you be?” He rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t he tell her?”

“Probably because there’s nothing she could do, and there’s no point making her miserable too.”

Micah didn’t look convinced. I could tell he wanted to help—his eyes were on fire with that stubborn determination I’d always admired in him, the kind I could never tame.

“Well, Sir, with all due respect, I disagree.”