Shadow Unit Scandal: The Commander's Omega-Chapter 62: Delightful recovery

Two days later, Rafael had accomplished three objectively impressive feats.

He had slept, eaten, and ignored his phone with the unwavering, immovable determination of a titan holding up the sky.

Gregoris had been called away on Shadows business, the kind of work Rafael knew better than to ask about unless he wanted migraines, classified documents, or both. He left at dawn with the quiet certainty of a man who expected his world to remain exactly where he put it. Rest. Obey sensible instructions. Don’t antagonize anyone with a military rank. He hadn’t said those words out loud, but the look had communicated them with painful clarity.

Rafael had been alone since. Well. Alone with Shadows.

Which was not the same thing.

The Alamina manor was disturbingly peaceful. No heavy boots echoing through corridors. No amused violence leaning against doorframes. Just silence. Filtered sunlight through tall windows. Cool air. Rich wood. The faint hum of layered ether wards built into the bones of the estate like a sleeping beast. Even his assigned guard, whom he refused to acknowledge the concept of "personal Shadow", was invisible. Only occasionally, when he shifted his weight too quickly, would a soft whisper of movement remind him he was absolutely not unsupervised.

He pretended he didn’t notice.

He spent the first half of the day horizontal.

The bed had become treacherously persuasive. Every time he tried to sit up for too long, his body politely informed him that it would file a formal complaint with higher authorities. And he believed it. The pain wasn’t vicious anymore, but it settled deep in his bones with a hum that didn’t exist until the bond.

He hated that.

By the second afternoon, he was upright in the enormous bed with pillows, building what might legally be classified as a fort. A tray rested over his lap. He had eaten everything on it, which made Gregoris annoying, because it meant Gregoris had been right. Again.

He scowled at the room purely out of principle.

His phone sat on the bedside table where he had placed it face-down and refused to acknowledge its existence. It had vibrated at first. Then buzzed. Then nearly rattled itself into another dimension. He assumed by now it had either died or resigned from service.

He wasn’t checking.

Absolutely not.

Because checking meant Gabriel.

And Gabriel, while postpartum and supposed to be resting, was still Gabriel. Sharp. Kind when he chose. Terrifying when he didn’t. Rafael had built half his career on avoiding making that man disappointed. He did not currently possess the emotional stability to handle whatever hybrid of concern and razor-edged judgment waited in those messages.

Then there was Alexandra.

Alexandra did not do feelings quietly. Alexandra did nothing quietly. She had probably written a novel. Or twelve. Bullet-pointed. Color-coded. With highlighted sections labeled How dare you? and I am proud of you but also want to strangle you.

And Delphine...

Rafael’s stomach tightened.

He lay back for a moment and stared at the carved ceiling, the quiet grandeur of the room pressing down like a gentle, elegant accusation.

Delphine Rosenroth did not shout. She did not throw things. She did not bargain in dramatics.

Delphine destroyed with disappointment.

"Yeah... Gabriel is the safest option." He said while reaching for his phone before one of the two would try to find him.

He unlocked the phone.

It was worse than he expected.

Headlines. Alerts. Political commentary. Social speculation. His name. Gregoris’s name. Alamina. Rosenroth. Phrases like "public indecency," "territorial claim", "strategic implications," and "romantic catastrophe of the decade" flashed past before Rafael firmly stopped reading before his soul left his body out of self-defense.

He scrolled. He found the thread.

Gabriel.

He hesitated for one breath. Then he pressed call. The line rang once. Twice. Three times.

Rafael’s lungs tightened with the knowledge that if Gabriel didn’t answer, that meant someone else would. And he wasn’t ready for the someone-elses.

The call connected.

There was a soft rustle first. Fabric. The muted hush of someone shifting carefully in a quiet room. A faint sound, not Gabriel’s, but a soft breathing. Then Gabriel’s voice, lower than usual, exhausted around the edges, but steady.

"...Rafael."

There was no surprise in it.

Of course there wasn’t.

"Please don’t kill me," Rafael said quietly.

There was a pause.

Something shifted on Gabriel’s end: the faint rustle of fabric, the soft sound of controlled breathing, and then... Gabriel laughed.

It was quiet and low, softened by exhaustion and the strange tenderness of someone healing, but undeniably amused.

"Oh no," Gabriel said, voice warm with disbelief. "I’m not going to kill you."

Rafael blinked. "You’re... laughing?"

"Yes," Gabriel replied, absolutely unapologetic. "Rafael, I am sitting in an aggressively guarded room, half the palace walking on eggshells, Damian attempting to be gentle, which is terrifying in its own right, and the entire Empire whispering about your... choices."

He paused, savoring the moment.

"And then I find out," Gabriel continued, amusement threading through every word, "that you managed to ruffle Gregoris Frasner so badly he lost control, publicly, and marked you."

Rafael stared at the wall in mute horror.

Gabriel actually sounded impressed.

"I mean," Gabriel went on pleasantly, "Shadows whisper about him like he’s a myth. Nobles look the other way when he breathes too loudly. He is famous for absolute control. And somehow, you annoyed, provoked, destabilized, and seduced him to the point of a biological claim on camera."

"I didn’t..." Rafael tried weakly, then stopped, because he absolutely did.

Because he absolutely, indisputably did.

"Yes," Gabriel said softly, mercifully, "you did."

Silence stretched.

Rafael could feel Gabriel smiling. The smile of a deeply intelligent creature finally given unexpected enrichment after being forced into medical captivity.

"Oh, Rafael," Gabriel sighed, sounding delighted. "Do you have any idea how unbearable he’s been for years? Walking around with that air of restrained apocalypse. And now?"

He paused, savoring it.

"He’s a disaster," Gabriel said warmly. "I received three separate reports describing him as ’visibly alive,’ which is apparently news. He threatened a news agency into polite obedience. He snarled at a diplomatic envoy. Damian had to physically take a document out of his hand before he signed something with murderous intent because someone insinuated you might not be worth the trouble."

Rafael buried his face in his hand. "Please stop talking."

"I will not," Gabriel replied cheerfully. "I am medically prohibited from moving, mentally under-stimulated, politically exiled to my bed, and deeply entertained. Let me have this."

"This is cruel," Rafael muttered.

"I know," Gabriel said happily. "Shadows keeps sending me updates, Rafael. Actual, trained operatives reporting, in full seriousness, that their Duke is pacing like an animal and refuses to leave manor grounds for more than a few hours because, I quote, ’His omega is still recovering and he is considering homicide as a preemptive safety measure."

Rafael made an inhuman noise.

Gabriel’s tone softened, still absolutely enjoying himself but affectionate under the mischief.

"You’ve snapped something inside him," Gabriel said. "He doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. He’s territorial, he’s furious, he’s protective, and it is the first time I’ve ever seen Gregoris Frasner so... human."

Rafael swallowed.

"...good," Gabriel added lightly. "He deserved it."

"Gabriel," Rafael whispered, "you’re a menace."

"Yes," Gabriel agreed serenely. "And thanks to you, I am finally having a delightful recovery."