Page 18 of Red River

"You probably barely recognize me," I blurted, nervously biting my lip. "It’s been so many years. I’ve changed a lot."

Dammit, silly me. Why I decided to lead with my insecurities was beyond me.

As I said this, I extended my hand toward him, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he did something alphas traditionally did when greeting their submissive omegas: he reached out and placed his hand on my neck.

A shiver ran through me, like a wave of chills spreading across my skin—I immediately bowed my head, and… my dick stirred in my pants.

My pelvis instinctively began to tilt back, as a good submissive omega should do, offering him my ass. It was stronger than my will, written in my DNA. It was also one of the reasons omegas didn’t want to be greeted that way nowadays, since it evoked this uncomfortable reaction.

But… I didn’t mind.

Fortunately, before it started to look awkward, Archer withdrew his hand, his expression calm and neutral, as if what he’d done was completely normal—just the equivalent of a handshake. But we both knew it wasn’t.

In the ancient, unspoken language between alphas and omegas, this gesture carried a much deeper meaning. It wasn't just a greeting or a way of forcing sexual servitude; it was a deliberate act to assert dominance over the submissive one.

"To me, you look the same as when I first saw you, River. You look like my omega," he said.

Gosh, his voice was way too deep, resonant, and far too commanding—I didn’t have a chance. It sent a wave of heat through me, more blood flowing down to my dick, and my hole clenched too, the traitor. I looked like his omega? And he looked like my alpha. But, of course, I didn’t dare say that dream out loud.

Instead, I cleared my throat, trying to think of something to say. But before I could, the passenger door clicked open, and Aiden climbed out of the truck cab, followed by Van and Lake.

All three of them looked around curiously.

But one person was noticeably absent: Igor.

It was almost hard to believe. Igor should’ve been the first one out, trying to assert himself. But he wasn’t. He’d been silent and sullen for the entire trip and hadn’t said a word since the driver started the engine a few hours ago.

Stephen had practically had to shove him into the truck. The idea of being forced into another alpha's household was almost unbearable to my son. He knew well he’d have to follow Archer’s rules—and worse, that Archer would now be his official guardian.

This transition was doomed to be a challenge from the start—Igor’s rebellion only grew stronger as the move approached. He had fits of rage, tried to fight Stephen on multiple occasions, screamed at me and Sam, and, when locked in his room, pounded his fists against the walls. But… his attempts to take control of the family were shut down by our joint effort.

I had no idea what he was planning now or what game he intended to play.

But at least my other sons had gotten out of the truck, which was a relief. They approached Archer slowly, their faces a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Aiden led the rest, walking with some confidence, while Van followed more hesitantly. Lake trailed behind, looking shy but also cautiously curious.

"This is Aiden. He’s almost ten," I introduced my fourth son. "My youngest but one."

Aiden extended his hand, looking around, quite excited. He didn’t show any fear or reluctance, just a bit of pent-up energy after so many hours cramped in the truck cab.

"A strong handshake!" Archer said with a subtle smirk, and Aiden cracked a smile.

Van was more cautious, though still open enough. He had mostly resisted Igor’s influence, likely because the two didn’talways get along smoothly, though Igor had still managed to plant some doubts with his constant ranting and complaints about the move.

Thankfully, Van remained neutral. He hesitated for a moment, but eventually stepped forward, studying Archer intently before offering his hand for a handshake.

"Great T-shirt. Is that the Matterhorn?" Archer asked, pointing at Van’s shirt, which featured the iconic mountain. Van nodded shyly.

Then Archer noticed Lake, who was standing quietly off to the side, and walked over to him. Crouching down, he smiled warmly and said, "Hi, I’m Archer."

Lake blushed, but extended his hand, his small palm nearly disappearing in Archer’s much larger one. Despite being seven, Lake looked closer to five and was often treated as such.

"How was the trip? Did you see anything interesting on the way?" Archer asked, his voice noticeably gentler, which made my heart flutter unexpectedly. Was he making an effort to connect with my boys in a friendly way?

Lake nodded seriously. "Yeah, a big white bridge—really long!"

"That must’ve been something. You’ll have to show me online later. I’m curious where you crossed such a bridge!"

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