Omega's Truth - Nora Phoenix Page 0,2

more manipulative and abusive than they had thought.

“I don’t have any proof, but what if his father administered some kind of hormone drug to him? Something that stunted his development and prevented him from having a heat?”

Lucan blew out a slow breath. “I had the same thought.”

“Yeah? It’s crazy, right?”

“I don’t know. It would explain everything. You have to admit the timing is just very suspicious. The fact that he slowly improved once he was here does suggest his father had something to do with it. Or is there an environmental factor that could cause it?”

“No. His levels were so low that I can’t think of a single reason for that other than a deliberate blocker. Of course we know that certain conditions affect hormone levels, but not to this degree. And his blood work ruled out a lot of other medical causes, like his thyroid malfunctioning.”

They were both silent for a bit. “What father would do that to his child, though?” Lucan finally whispered. “It’s almost too horrible to even consider.”

“It would break Sando’s heart. He really loves his dad.”

“He does.” Sadness filled Lucan’s heart. “But if this is true, he needs to know. And so do we because if his father will do something like that to him, what else is he capable of?”

The thought chilled him, and Maz’s eyes showed fear as well. “I don’t like that idea at all, and that’s putting it mildly.”

Lucan’s resolve settled again. “Let’s head over tomorrow or so and check in on him.”

His heart felt immediately lighter at the thought of seeing Sando again.

“Sounds good. Let’s get some sleep, habibi. You look tired.”

“So do you,” Lucan fired back, and then they both laughed.

“And they say honesty is the death of romance,” Maz joked.

“As long as you don’t start telling me my ass looks big in my shorts, we’re all good.”

Maz winked at him. “Your ass looks good in anything.”

Lucan was still smiling when he fell asleep.

2

He was tired, so incredibly tired. Every morning when Sando woke up, his first thought was that he wanted to sleep longer, to stay in bed. His body ached with exhaustion that had settled somewhere deep in his bones. He was too young to feel like this, and yet here he was. He’d only been up for four hours, and already he wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the blankets over his head, and sleep forever. Sleep and not wake up until this recurring nightmare was over.

“Sando, where’s my coffee?” his father called out, and Sando’s insides cramped. Was it any wonder he had trouble eating, what with how tight his body felt all the time? Stress. Pure stress.

“I’m making it now, Papa,” he shouted back, then filled the pot with fresh water, added the right amount of coffee, and turned it on. That should give him five minutes of solace. He rubbed his temples, the same faint headache brewing that had been plaguing him for weeks now. Ever since his father had decided Sando needed to not only move in with him but also work from their cottage rather than in the clinic. Being with his father twenty-four seven was exhausting.

His behavior was so erratic. He could be kind one moment, cruel and cold the next. His memory was getting worse by the day, but it mostly involved nonwork-related things. Anything Sando told him, basically, plus common day-to-day things, like how to make coffee or the fact that he needed to flush the toilet after using it and wash his hands. But he remembered every formula, every gene sequence, every little bit of research detail. Everything else was a hot mess, but his job seemed almost unaffected.

He had good days, when he seemed almost normal, like today. On days like that, Sando breathed a little easier. But when his father was in a mood, he felt like walking on a tightrope over a cliff, knowing one misstep could cause a deadly fall. Those were the days when Sando couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, almost didn’t dare to breathe out of fear of setting him off. His father had always had a bit of a temper—his Italian genes were to blame for that, as he’d once explained Sando—but it had never been like this. He’d never been violent, and he sure as hell was now.

Sando could leave. He could walk out that door and go to Lucan and Maz and be happy. Free. All it would take was one step. Legally, his father could do nothing