I feel clumsy, like a hand blindly rattling through a drawer, searching for the right tool in the dark.
I can’t find it, and the darker influence of my Command feels like it’s hovering over my shoulder, snickering at my imminent failure.
Maybe this will fail, but I have to at least try to hold firm to my values before I dash them aside.
Sucking in a deep inhale, I close my eyes.
I recall how much I wanted to soothe Jason in his hospital bed all those months ago. I focus on the need to comfort my loved one. Then I remember purring for Viper as he fought against his Bloodlust, and that surge of compassion that unlocked my O-space so I could help him find his way back.
Somehow, it works, and I feel myself slide into a slow, syrupy crawl of softness that opens the door to my submissive abilities.
I put my trust in my reawakened instincts and let them take the lead.
A rumble begins in my chest, traveling up my throat and passing my lips.
A purr.
Deep and true.
Murmurs stir like wind through tall grass, soft at first but gaining weight.
“Omega.”
“It’s an Omega.”
“What’s an Omega doing here?”
I purr louder.
It’s like honey spilling down my throat, and unlike its more violent twin, this power doesn’t take payment. There is no costfor its use. No pain or mind-bending. This is all mine, as easy as breathing, and not some sharpened thing that bites back.
The sound, resonant and impossible to ignore, threads through the crowd like smoke, weaving between words, settling under skin. It finds each sharp edge and smooths it. Serenity blooms where rage once burned, and the shouting dulls.
The mob breathes. Everything softens.
Anger deflates like a punctured balloon, and Rheamont’s citizens finally listen when the soldiers tell them to retreat. They slowly begin to leave the town square.
This.
This is what it means to be an Omega.
A pendulum swinging between sweet and strong, giving our community what they need. The steady pulse that keeps the wild from unraveling. We were meant to be the gravity that holds Alphas and Betas together. Without it, chaos has ruled for centuries.
Omegas are the hand on the back, the stillness in the roar, and somewhere along the line, we stopped.
Theystoleit. Buried it. Broke it. And now they’re trying to make it a weapon.
For better or worse, it’s still in me. Instinct doesn’t die that easy.
And today, I remember who I am.
Movement catches my eye. A lone figure appears at the corner of the town bakery. Gun raised. Trained on the crowd.
My purr stutters.
It’s not one of Zero’s.
Neither are they sporting the Fathim insignia, no familiar colors or cut of army fatigues.
