How quickly I’ve accepted their attention isn’t the issue, because sometimes it’s just the way life works. And it’s also the way it used to be in our society. These days the magic of connection has been dirtied by power plays and strategic alliances; the magic of proper connections lost and ridiculed. People should never doubt that instant blinding realisation you’ve met the right person or persons for you, but we are taught to from such a young age.
Some of what I learnt about being an omega was by simply being one, and by sharing with Bailey; it’s honestly horrific some of the things we’ve shared—clearly neither of us have any shame. Other parts I learnt about being an omega were seared into my memory by what happened to me and what I witnessed in the labs as well as what I discovered by reading. It’s clear by reading Regalo’s notes, findings, and discoveries that there was a time when his mind was brilliant. I’d hazard a guess there’d be more than a few people to look twice at me if I admitted he was a genius. Much like all scientists, he had that moment of clarity where he brought it all together and discovered a truth.
But a truth is not necessarily everyone’s truth. Nor should it be. Regalo’s discovery centred around an omega’s role in an alpha driven society because he was an alpha, and we’re living in an alpha world. He discounted anything that didn’t support that and then proceeded to change his life’s work into one where he pushed an outcome focussed on alphas being the top of the pyramid. I’m pretty sure his ego overtook his ambition at this point. In subsequent entries, you can read the change in his thought process. Well, I can, no one else could because no one else has ever read them, no one else knows they exist. Speculation circulates that the fire that destroyed the labs took his notes, but there have always been people who believed someone must have the information everyone is so desperate for.
Who would have known one innocuous memory stick and a bundle of small journals would hold the key.
And it was a key. It provided access to his knowledge, his theories, his workings. The stick also opened so many other doors that I wasn’t sure what should open, and what should stay closed. Numerous files provided in-depth detail into every person involved in the Regalo labs since Dagmar first proposed it: government officials who never stopped funding him, people in our society who were still considered pillars and who met regularly with him, packs employed to provide protection, alphas who always knew what he was doing. You name it, he detailed it, which proved to me he might have been fucking crazy but he was also pretty smart by covering his back. Except, I’m sure he never considered anyone turning against him because of the friends he had in high places. But in his brilliance, he forgot the power of normal people. There was a lot of expectation that he be held accountable and locked away forever. Then he was murdered, taking his secrets with him, supposedly. I think it would have been better if that were the case.
But that hadn’t happened. I had what I had. And after a series of unfortunate events years ago, it meant I was the gatekeeper of those secrets, including the awful omega ledger, the very one that documented what omega was assigned to what pack. But worse was the list of people he had bonded, packed, to himself, how he’d used hypnosis to do it and the power word he used. Without a doubt, it was dangerous information. It provided evidence to destroy those involved and to blow apart some of those who had escaped and started to heal. I’m positive that reliving memories of past trauma is not healthy at all and there’s no way I’ll allow those locked omegas to suffer through that kind of horror again.
Reading through his notes, I got a better understanding of how different and special I was. I discovered he was never going to sell me; the asshole knew I was his pot of gold. But I also learned, despite trying really fucking hard, he was never able to ever claim me as pack. Dagmar Regalo was simply not strong enough, because the very thing he was trying to harness was impossible for him to do.
True natural born omegas do not get claimed, they claim.
I get why he hid that pertinent piece of information as an innocuous side note buried deep under a pile of his virtuous ego stroking. Because if he admitted that, people would have seen how he’d fucked everything else up.
Instead, he hid the truth and focussed on what he could manipulate: not me—but making more of his modified omegas. Although the slimy cunt made ‘collection days’ as fucking horrific as he could, I guess I was going to get the final laugh. Because I’m here, and he is burning in hell.
Shit, the prick lied to Bailey and the rest of the world in his last interview about this very thing. He did not hypnotise me, and there were no other Evies. There hadn’t been for a while, since he killed the last one.
Even then, survival was always my highest priority. With each passing day after we escaped, my survival changed to a will and a willingness to live.
And they are two very different things.
Living means chasing down what you want and dream for. My dreams were my own and unsurprisingly revenge had always somehow been featured. A few days with these alphas and I was wondering if my dreams had changed again. While my body was thrilled at the prospect of a pack, I hadn’t quite figured in that really deep private place inside me, if my purpose had actually changed too. Or if I wanted it to. Or if I needed it to.
The conflict was real.
A Ra Wn wasn’t just a hidden tribute to the god of revenge and terror, it became a constant reminder of where I’d come from, who I could be. In a lot of ways, the growth and success of A Ra Wn became a test of my own fortitude, of finding out how far I was prepared to go to achieve and garner my goals and aspirations. And in a lot of ways it was a springboard of discovery before I moved my life focus from making money to making a difference.
Now I’m questioning if the time for change is here. Rightly or wrongly, I had purposely stayed quiet about what I had in my possession because I was hoping as a society, after the atrocity of Regalo, that real, permanent change would come. Plus, I was so fucking scared of taking that step by myself. At one point in time, it looked like I wasn’t going to have to do or say a thing because society was righting itself, but now every time Bailey and I talk, or when I watch the television, or Gabe opens his mouth, it only confirms that as a society we are going backwards again.
While my body is priming itself for my heat, I’m losing myself to a battle of morals. My needy omega side is telling me over and over again that serendipity has brought the five of us together, so why am I tempting fate by thinking about righting wrongs where there’s a high possibility of us being killed—or at least pulled apart.
The answers are simple to come up with, harder to accept. Because I do want them. I do want a pack, and always have. I want Gabriel. I want Valak. I want Noah. And I want Lincoln. I wanted my freedom. But is freedom at no cost, freedom at all?
Valak’s words resonate more. His statement, ‘I don’t owe anyone anything’ is beautifully accurate but those words kept adding to the noise in my head, because deep down I know I owe it to myself.
His words are one thing, the way he said them another. His offer of protection isn’t based on a whim, it is an intrinsic part of who Valak is. In a lot of ways, it’s that realisation that has me once again hiding away from the weight of the world in his bed, rolling around in his scent, because I know he has that deep strength inside him, and hecanshoulder the burden. Any burden. Irrespective of risk, of danger, of indecision and fear, he would be there, if I let him, and in turn, let them.
“Ares sit,” I coo softly when Ares paws at the blankets, his way of offering to climb up and cuddle. I pull his head down to rest on the pillow, but don’t let him up next to me. “I’m okay, promise you. Would I lie to you?” I ask him as I run my fingers over his face before trailing them over his eyes.
The noise in my head dims. It doesn’t vanish, it never does. I use Ares as a grounding coping mechanism while I search for the answers blaring loudly at me. I have no idea how long it is after I climbed in his bed, but a soft ticking behind me has Ares aware again while the bed dips behind me.
“I want Ares to guard the door and not allow anyone through, what command do I use?”
“You said the magic words. Keep them simple though.”
Valak covers my body with his before his hands follow the line of my arm, stopping at Ares head. “Ares, guard, no one in.”
Valak uses more dominance than necessary, and Ares triple checks with me, but I smile at my dog, brushing my hand over his face and repeating the same words as Valak. But softer, to teach Valak, while reinforcing to Ares what his task is.
Valak climbs off the bed and gives Ares gentle praise. I twist around to watch, because you know it’s a beautiful noise coming from a harsh man. He closes the door before he stands at the space between the door and the bed. I know he’s asking me what I want, so I lift the quilt cover up showing him I’m only in my thong. He rips his Henley off. Doing it the really fucking hot way too, like pulling it off from the back, not the front. My eyes drop intentionally down to his jeans and the way he peels them off doesn’t disappoint either. The little hussy gets a show in his strip tease.
His eyes are locked on my face, his voice all rumbly. “You didn’t think I missed the gift you left for me before, did you? I blew my load all over the exact spot, I just wasn’t sure when you climbed in my bed to do it. Not that it matters because you’re back where you belong.”
I want to be shocked at his statement, but I get lost in the visual. Instead, I flick my eyebrows up at him, smirking, but it all falls away when he does a slow spin before he stops, facing me.
