Tansy’s mouth tightens. Her brows pull down hard. “Fixhim?” she repeats. “So none of you actually wanted an omega. You just needed something to make your alpha work again, panicked, and decided I’d do?”
I freeze.
Tension hangs between us, telling me once again I chose the wrong fucking words.
“No—Not fix,” I blurt out, voice cracking before I can stop it. My eyes burn, hot and humiliating, and I blink hard, swallowing past the lump rising fast in my throat as I try to figure out what to say to fix this. “That’s not what I meant. I mean—” I scrub a hand over the back of my neck, fingers shaking now. “Cass was hurt. Bad. And the doctor said bonding could help stabilize him. Not—” I wince. “Not that you’re some kind of cure.”
Her mouth presses into a thin line. “Omegas don’t have magical medical powers,” she says quietly. She doesn’t sound angry anymore. She sounds sad, and that almost makes it worse.
“I know.” My shoulders sag as I bow my head in defeat. “We…um…I—” I trail off, hating how close I am to crying.
Tansy leans in, the sharp edge easing out of her expression when she sees how wrecked I am. Her voice drops, gentle. “But what if my presence doesn’t fix him?” she asks softly. “What if he stays sick? Or,” she takes a small breath before saying, “What if he dies?” Her eyes search mine, worried but kind. “What happens to me then?”
The thought of Cass dying makes my chest tightens so hard it almost hurts. “He won’t die,” I whisper, and my chin quivers.
I’m saying everything wrong.
“Beck.” Tansy slips her hand across the table. “I don’t belong here,” she says quietly. “I need to go home.”
Her gentle words hit me like a slap to the face.
“Omegas need packs that choose them on purpose,” Tansy says evenly. “Not in a panic. Not as a fix. There’s a reason academies exist, why the process is slow andthorough. Claiming an omega isn’t something you do on impulse.”
She pauses, looking at my face like she hates that this hurts me.
“I’m not saying you did anything wrong,” she adds softly. “I just…” Her dark eyes shift to her plate. Then, slowly, her shoulders drop, her careful posture slipping like she’s too tired to hold it anymore. When she looks up at me, there’s something so devastatingly sad in her eyes. “Let me go home, Beck. Please.”
Everything inside me goes strangely quiet. Not panic. Not even fear. Just a hollow, numb stillness.
My one job was to make this omega feel safe. To soothe her. To make her damn breakfast. And somehow, in the span of a few sentences, I managed to convince her to reject our entire pack.
I guess I understand why.
Cass’s body is wrecked right now. He’s sick and weak. But omegas want strength and protection, alphas who can keep them safe and give them strong, healthy children.
And, right now, Cass doesn’t look like he can do any of that.
Of course, she doesn’t want us.
I stare down at my half-eaten plate, appetite completely gone.
“I get it,” I finally say quietly, eyes fixed on the untouched toast on my plate. “It makes sense that you don’t want us.” The words hurt more than I expect. “But this isn’t what my pack is usually like,” I say as I slowly look up, finally looking Tansy in the eye. “We’re not a weak pack. Cass isn’t weak. He’s…he’s impressive. Powerful. The kind of alpha people hold their breath around.” I swallow hard, mymouth suddenly feeling very dry. “He’s good too. Loving and tender.”
Tansy’s expression goes soft and sad, like she doesn’t know what to say.
“Things have been…really hard since he was shot,” I say, my voice dropping. “The bullet tore through his ACL and practically destroyed his kneecap.” I let out a pained sigh. “The doctor said it was a miracle Cass didn’t lose his leg.”
“Wait.” Tansy’s eyes go wide, her whole upper body leaning forward. “He wasshot?” Her mouth falls open in disbelief.
I realize half a second too late that I probably shouldn’t have shared that, but what does it matter now?
We’ve already been rejected, and I don’t have it in me to lie.
“Yeah,” I say, deciding to just lay it all out. “It happened almost a month ago. Everything has kind of spiraled since then.” I slump back in my chair, throat tight. “Cass is still a very powerful alpha,” I say as I cross my arms. “And he always will be. But the recovery’s been rough. On all of us.”
I stop there. Let the words settle. My gaze drops back to the table, to the food I haven’t touched.
“I don’t blame you for wanting someone else,” I say quietly. “If I were an omega, I’d probably reject us too.”
