The barked command shouldn't have worked on him, shouldn't have drawn him like a submissive dog with its tail between its legs. It hadn't worked on him in so long that he had forgotten what it was like to be under alpha-command. He couldn't stop the whine the emanated from his throat, baring the side of his neck in forced submission as he chewed on the sudden flare of renewed hate for everything.

His hate at the world and everything in it was his armour even as he was hauled up to the bench and caged in while he lay on his back. He used it to try to soften the impact of the bond that was clawing at him again, tightening his chest. He hated it.

Yet, the command was firm and pressed him, and he did in fact stand down, laying almost boneless against the bench, his bound hand clenched tight enough to be painful. He gritted his teeth, trying to master himself and his reactions as the bond shifted to that tantalizing promise of warmth and connection. The calm press eased some of the heart-twisting tightness.

He glared up at Wilson, wishing to savage the alpha with it before his head was lifting and nestling deep into the crook of Sam's neck. He breathed deep the calming scent, his nose butting against the gland there, tongue darting out to taste it and calm returned to him even if he knew that this was all going to be very short lived.

Hill was not going to let this stand. He wouldn't either if he was in her position.