Octavius (WATTYS 2016)

part two | four | tavi

| This chapter is in Octavius' POV |

I can't sit still. 

I've been moving around my office ever since Alessandra had her little 'tantrum' in the hospital wing. The second I saw her gown fall, I wanted to run to her and cover her so that no one could see what was mine. But the look in her eye, the steadiness in her gaze...I knew to stay put. When she left, I yearned to run after her, catch her, make everything okay...

But I knew that wasn't what she needed right now. She needed time to think, and I knew she would be safe with Klaude in our wing, with my son. 

I slump down into my desk-chair for the third time in the past hour, the hole I burned in the carpet from pacing getting to humid. There are a million files on my desk, piles of paperwork mounding past my eye level, but my eyes can't focus on a single word. 

I run a hand through my hair, pushing it back out of my eyes, and widen them, desperately trying to concentrate on the document in front of me. 

But with the combination of frustration, both sexual and emotional, food supply levels seem like a tiny ant hill that has no fucking importance to me whatsoever. 

I sigh, rolling the sleeves of my oxford up to my elbows, loosening the tie from around my neck. My anxiety is making the silk Armani tie feel like a noose. 

Come on, Octavius. Focus, you're an alpha for god's sake. 

I shake my head, taking a drink from the whisky glass on my desk, wincing slightly at the smokey and acidic taste. I know I can't get drunk off of it, not even slightly tipsy, but it's just the act of sipping the mature beverage that makes me feel more in control.

It wasn't easy, becoming an alpha at such a young age. People expected me to succeed but at the same time waited for me to fail. That son of a bitch Kane was the biggest rooter for my downfall, hoping that he could jump into my spot as soon as I fell.

If it were up to me, he wouldn't be the goddamn Beta, but my father had it written that as long as Kane lived, his title of Beta would live with him. I never understood it, but then, I never understood anything about my father. I never really desired to. 

I don't feel remorse for crushing him in between my fingers. I don't regret watching the life seep out of him like a blood bag. 

The only thing I regret about that moment was the fact that she had to witness it. She had to watch me squeeze the life out of someone. And I broke her. 

It was my fault. I should have told her to turn away, to close her eyes until it was over. But I was selfish, and the only thing I could see was his skull between my palms, and hear the crack of bone collapsing over bone. 

I thought that killing him would bring normalcy to my life, end Alessandra's breakdowns, allow me to have my perfect family. And they are perfect, but the life I put them in is not. Alessandra wakes up in the middle of the night screaming for me to stop, for me to run, to save her. And then as soon as she comes back to reality, she insists it was just a nightmare. That she was fine. 

And she knows I can see the lie glisten in her eyes. 

But like a coward, I say nothing. I do nothing.

I slam my hand onto the table, the glass that was once gripped in it shattering, slicing into my palm. I wince slightly, picking a large shard out of my palm, a pool of crimson blood flooding the groove. I stand, carefully balancing my hand, watching the wound heal already. But this is a new suit, I don't want to tell Phoebe that she has to bleach couture.