I clear my throat and rub my lower lip with my thumb. “Yes, well, that is what we are here for, Miss Proudfoot.”
It's the first time I've been thanked by a civilian. Usually they cower in fear, as if my mere presence is a threat. I've never been a 'nice guy' before. It's refreshing.
"You're welcome," I say, the words feeling clumsy on my tongue. "While you wait for news about your family, head on over to the supplies tent."
She stands and clutches the baby on her hip tightly.
The pup, a little girl I think, is taking in the constant movements around the camp. Soldiers, volunteers, and survivors all moving with purpose.
Her wide eyes snag on something, and her face changes. Chubby cheeks lift into a gummy smile, a string of happy babbles spilling out as her tiny hand reaches forward, pointing across the camp.
"Is... Is that an Omega?" The young girl whispers to me in awe. "I've never seen one in real life. She's so pretty. Is she nice?"
Halley is handing a bag of supplies to an older man with a hunch and a beard that touches his belt. She's smiling along as he animatedly tells her a story.
“Her name is Halley,” I tell her, pride sharpening my tone. “And yes, she is very nice. Go on. She will take good care of you both.”
I watch as my Omega greets them with warmth that seems effortless. When the pup raises her arms, Halley scoops her up without hesitation, bouncing her on her hip until the child’s delighted laughter carries across the space.
The survivors love Halley.
All day, they've flocked to her like she’s a beacon of hope in the bleak darkness.
Her scent and her presence calms their frayed nerves like a balm over raw wounds. It was a brilliant strategy by Zero to have her issue supplies, and by extension, comfort.
Clever for the operation.
But as her Prime Alpha and future mate, Ido notapprove.
Protect. Ours. Omega. Protect.
I want to shield her from the horrors of the war. From the filth, the desperation, the way war not only tears at flesh but rots people from the inside.
Her sweet, giving soul will demand she pour every ounce of herself into these survivors until there is nothing left, and she will still try to give more.
I want her tucked away somewhere safe because I don't know if I can bear to see her cry for these poor people. I don’t think I’m strong enough to watch her heart break again and again.
But I can’t stop her.
I won’t.
I know from our time together at the training camp that controlling her will extinguish her spark. She needs freedom to be an Omega. Soft, caring, nurturing, proud. Everything these weary souls need.
Our girl will always choose to do what is right for others.
It’s my responsibility as her Alpha to support her.
The babe babbles at Halley, her tiny fists grabbing her hair, and a smile blooms over both their faces, bright and happy.
“She’s a natural with the pups,” a Beta volunteer says as she straightens the growing pile of intake paperwork. Her clothes are plain but neat, her tone casual. "Guess it makes sense, Omegas are made for that sort of thing, right?"
I grunt in reply, my chest tight. It's true. Omegas are designed to be mothers. It's the main reason Alphas crave them. To breed and claim them, to create strong, healthy offspring.
Except our Halley cannot.
Our Omega is infertile.
It doesn't matter to me. It never crossed my mind I might one day have a kid. Being the Prime Alpha of Scorch Squad didn't allow time for daydreaming about dating or family.
