I looked down or tried to. The blanket held me too tightly, so all I could do was lower my eyes, staring at the faint pattern in the fabric near my chin.
The first words came out before I could stop them.
“Because I couldn’t afford to be an omega.”
While Jay didn’t react, something in his breathing changed. A fraction deeper. Listening harder. I let out a shaky exhale, staring past him now, at nothing.
“I was twenty when it started to… manifest.” My voice was barely audible. I’d been such a late bloomer. Most omega and alpha tendencies showed up during puberty. Only betas tended to find their niche a little later. “I’d spent my whole life thinking I was a beta. Hell, so did everyone else. My tests always came back inconclusive. Then one day, it wasn’t inconclusive anymore.”
I swallowed hard. “I was working for a company that didn’t tolerate… complications. Female employees were fine. Betas, even better. But omegas? Liability. Distraction. Weak link. There wasn’t a place for one on a security team, and I’d just fought my way into mine.”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened.
“So, I made it go away.” I laughed a little—bitter, small. “Found a man who knew a man who knew a chemist. Paid too much. Didn’t care. The first batch burned like acid, but it worked. I passed for beta again.”
The memory made my throat ache. “After—I just… kept doing it. Year after year. I told myself it was safer. Smarter. That I was protecting my job. Protectingthem.”
I risked a glance at Roan—still sleeping, still steady, oblivious to the storm breaking in whispers beside him.
“I didn’t want anyone to see me differently,” I said. “Least of all him.”
Thankfully, Jay didn’t do the one thing that would have broken me. He didn’t offer comfort or understanding, only patience as helistened.
“Eventually, I started to believe the lie. That I was just a slightly off-kilter beta who got headaches and insomnia sometimes.” I gave a hollow smile. “It was easier than admitting I’d spent ten years poisoning myself to keep a secret no one had asked me to keep.”
His gaze sharpened to the point I could almost feel the way it sliced into me, seeking. “You say it like it was past tense,” he murmured.
My chest constricted. “Because it is,” I whispered. “I stopped this week.”
That silence came again, deep and long. I couldn’t tell if the look in Jay’s eyes was sorrow or respect—or both.
“You knew what it would do,” he said finally.
I nodded once. “Yeah.”
“You did it anyway.”
“Yeah.”
It wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t shame. It was just… truth.
A muscle in his jaw flexed, but Jay’s voice remained calm. “Then you knew this was coming.”
“I didn’t know it would bethis,” I said. “I didn’t think I’d—” My voice caught, and I bit down on the rest.I didn’t think I’d drag all of you into it.
Jay reached out then, not to touch, just to rest a hand near the edge of the blanket. A quiet gesture. Solidarity without intrusion.
“Alright,” he said softly. “That’s enough for now.”
But I could still see the questions behind his eyes, the rest of what he wanted to ask, what he probablyneededto. Like, whythisweek? Whynow?
I wasn’t ready to answer that. Not yet.
More, I wasn’t ready to answer what happened after.
So I closed my eyes and leaned back against the steady weight of Roan’s chest, letting the slow rise and fall of his breathing anchor me.
For the first time in years, I’d told someone the truth.
