Chapter 92 HEATHER'S PAST
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the sewing hall, catching on loose threads and polished wood.
Adam kept hissing at the unrhythmic sound of the sewing machine, even though it's like that because he kept missing the rhythm.
The needle caught the fabric wrong. Again.
Heather reached over and pressed the machine pedal down gently before it could jam. “You’re fighting it.”
Adam frowned at the fabric like it had personally offended him. “I’m not.”
“You are,” she said, amused. “You’re pushing when you should be guiding.”
“I am guiding.”
She tilted her head. “Aggressively.”
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, maybe I am. I suck at doing this.”
Heather smiled and went back to her own work. “You’re thinking too much.”
“That’s not new to me.”
“That’s not helpful either.”
Adam watched her hands move. She was fast, but not rushed. Every motion looked learned, repeated until it lived in her muscles instead of her head.
“How long did it take you to get that good?” he asked.
Heather shrugged. “Long enough that I stopped counting.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
He picked up the fabric again, slower this time. “Do you ever mess up?”
“All the time,” she said easily. “I just know how to hide it now.”
Adam huffed a laugh. “Wow.”
“That’s tailoring.”
They worked in silence for a while. It wasn’t awkward. Adam had started to realize that with Heather, silence didn’t feel like something he had to fill.
After a bit, he asked, “Do you ever get tired of this?”
Heather didn’t look up. “Of sewing?”
“Of being… here,” he clarified. “In the pack. In service. Always needed, but never really seen.”
She paused, then threaded a new needle. “You’ve thought about that a lot.”
He shrugged. “I notice things.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why you’re bad at resting.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re sounding like Kael.”
“I'm not trying to, I've just noticed that you're bad at resting.”
He smiled despite himself.
After a moment, Adam asked, “Can I ask you something without it being weird?”
Heather glanced at him. “I don’t control what’s weird. I only control whether I answer.”
“That’s fair.” He hesitated. “How does it actually work? The Alpha, Beta, Omega thing. I mean— not the textbook version. The real one.”
Heather leaned back in her chair. “That’s a big question.”
“I’ve got time.”
She studied him for a second, then nodded. “Okay. Real version.”
She folded her hands. “Alphas lead. That’s obvious. They carry the weight of the pack, make decisions, fight when they have to. But the part people don’t talk about is how much pressure that puts on them. They’re expected to be always tough and even ruthless.”
Adam thought of Kael and thought the Alpha is anything but ruthless. “Not all of them are ruthless, they can be soft too.”
“No,” Heather agreed. “They’re just not allowed to show it.”
“And Betas?”
“They hold things together,” she said. “Paperwork. Trade. Routine. They serve really important roles. For packs known for ruthlessness, Betas make sure the pack doesn’t fall apart while the Alphas are busy being symbols.”
Adam nodded. “And Omegas?”
Heather smiled faintly. “We survive.”
He blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s enough,” she said gently. “We keep lines alive. Families. Bonds. Emotional balance. Packs that mistreat their Omegas don’t last long. They rot from the inside. Thankfully our pack is blessed with a wonderful Alpha who makes sure Omegas are not mistreated.”
Adam frowned. “So people act like Omegas are weak?”
“They’re wrong,” Heather said calmly. “Being sensitive doesn’t mean being fragile.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then, more softly, “Which one are you?”
Heather didn’t hesitate. “Omega.”
Adam glanced at her, searching for discomfort. There was none.
“Oh,” he said. “Okay.”
She smiled. “That was easy.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
She shrugged. “Some people treat it like a confession because I often get perceived as a Beta.”
Adam snorted. “It’s not a crime.”
“No,” she agreed. “But it can feel like one.”
They went back to sewing. After a while, Adam asked, “Do you have a mate?”
Heather’s hands stilled.
She didn’t look at him. “I did, but I don't anymore.”
Adam’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” she said. “You didn’t know.”
She took a breath. “He taught me how to sew.”
Adam looked at the neat stitches beneath her fingers. “That explains a lot.”
She smiled a little. “He said it was good to know how to make something that lasts.”
“What happened?” Adam asked quietly.
Heather’s voice stayed steady. “He died.”
Adam didn’t push, he suddenly felt bad for asking.
“When the bond broke,” she continued, “my body didn’t understand it. I stopped eating. Stop sleeping. I kept thinking if I stayed still enough, it would come back.”
Adam’s fingers curled against the table.
“I almost followed him,” she said simply. “Not because I wanted to die. Because my body thought it had already lost the reason to live. Grief is a strong thing but the grief of a broken bond is even stronger. Strong enough to claim life.”
Adam swallowed. “How did you help it?”
“My mother,” Heather said. “She refused to let me disappear. And when I could finally sit up, she put a needle in my hand and told me to make something.”
Adam glanced around the hall. “This skill.”
“Yes.”
“Sewing saved you.”
Heather nodded. “It gave my hands something to do while my heart caught up.”
Adam stared at his fabric. “So Kael wasn't lying about the seriousness of it…”
“He definitely wasn't,” Heather said gently.
“A mate bond is to a wolf what breath is to life itself.”
The words settled deep.
Adam hesitated, then asked, “If someone loses their mate… they can die?”
“Yes.”
He swallowed. “Even Alphas?”
Heather looked at him. “Especially Alphas.”
Adam let out a small laugh. “That sounds dramatic.”
Heather met his eyes. “It’s not.”
He hesitated. “If Kael lost me…”
She didn’t let him finish. “Yes.”
Adam laughed again, louder this time. “You barely know him.”
“I know enough.”
He shook his head, brushing it off. “I’m not that important.”
Adam laughed it off outwardly. Internally, fear grows because even when he tries not to think about it, he's afraid his health will eventually fail to the point of him dying.
Before Heather could respond, Kael's voice interrupted.
“There you are. It's like you disappeared,” Kael said from the doorway.
Adam glanced up. “I have been too busy to miss you.”
Heather smiled. “Go on, we'll finish tomorrow.”
Kael nodded. “Thank you.”
He turned to Adam. “Let’s play chess?”
“Chess?”
Kael nodded, “yes. I'll teach you.”
Adam hesitated, then nodded. “Fine… why do you randomly want to play chess anyway?”
“I'm just seeking something to do with you, something that won't stress you. I know there’s been tension between us,” Kael said. “I don’t want it to stay that way.”
Adam stared at the pieces. “Then don’t ignore it.”
Kael exhaled. “I’m trying. I'm sorry for how I reacted, I shouldn't have been so quick to hurt her.”
“It's okay. I'm no longer mad about that, I understand—” Adam shivered halfway through his words “—that you were just putting me first.”
Kael frowned. “Are you cold?”
Adam looked down at his arms. Goosebumps crawled over his skin, sharp and stubborn. “No.”
“Seems to me you are, those are not going away,” Kael said.
“They will,” Adam replied quickly. “They’re just goosebumps.”
They went back to their room later. The warmth didn’t help.
Adam rubbed his arms, teeth chattering once.
“It’ll go away before morning,” he muttered.
Kael watched him, feeling really uneasy.
Adam turned away, pretending not to notice.
But long after the lights dimmed, the bumps stayed.
And Adam lay awake, staring into the dark, pretending not to count his breaths.