My arms wrap around her, and I hold her for dear life. I can’t imagine going through what I’ve been through seven times. Seven babies growing inside me, seven times being ripped apart. And at least I gave myself to Joe because I wanted to, but my mother? She was raped over and over again and made to carry the baby just to watch them go. I’m humbled by her strength even as we cry in each other's arms.
Words don’t really cover my feelings. There is not enough in the English language to explain what it feels like to know what she endured. I tell her I’m proud of her, and I say she’s safe here. I make promises I don’t know if I can keep, but I know right in my bones she’ll never be in danger again.
“You need to rest now, Manuela,” Major says with authority. “But once you’re rested, I’m going to need all the information you can give me, and I’ll make sure to find your kids.”
Of course Major says that. With a stern face and clipped tone, he promises to give back what we want the most. I might love this man.
Mom nods and doesn’t shake away my embrace. I don’t think I can let her go even if she asks. We stay as we are until the tears dry on mycheeks. Mirasol starts fussing, and Derrick hands her back, as if I know what to do.
But my mother is right there for me.
She guides me through it, showing me how to change the diaper, and Mirasol’s signs of hunger. She’s shy with her teachings at the start, but I’m eager to learn from her. I need her, and I think she finally sees how much.
The cowboys give us privacy, and we stay together until the sun goes down. It only feels right. I need her as much as she needs me. She knows a lot about raising babies, and until now, it has been used against her. I want to erase that memory from her head. I know I can’t, but I also know if I give her enough happy memories, it will lessen the pain.
She shows signs of tiredness after a few hours, so I show her my room and give her space to take a shower while Mirasol and I stay in the nest, cuddling.
Dinner is cooked by Derrick and delivered to my door, and even though I know they are dying to sleep with me again, he tells me I should stay with my mother and Mirasol. I love them, and I want to have a moment to thank Major for bringing my child back, but right now I need the one thing I’ve never really had: my mom.
I’ve always needed my mom, but this is the first time I can reach out and hold her hand.
We put Mirasol between us, and over the sleepy baby, we continue talking. She tells me about her life and what else happened with her and the other Omegas.
It’s not all pain. Not by a long shot.
Mom is clever, funny, and tenacious. She’s a matriarch to the other Omegas. She tells me their names and guarantees they were all rescuedby Dominic. There’s so much light in her, I know why they tried so hard to break her. Bad people are always threatened by greatness.
“I’m so happy you have a pack like that,” she whispers, not to wake up the baby. “I know them for just a little while, and I can feel they are good Alphas.”
My eyes are on my daughter, her chubby hand holds on to my finger as if she’s scared to lose me again. A sentiment we share.
“They are not my scent-match,” I confess. “I was supposed to go to a mating ceremony this weekend, before we got the call that they found you. Everyone says if I didn’t scent-match with them by now, it won’t happen.”
To my surprise, she rolls her eyes. “I swear to god, it’s like we lost contact with what it means to be who we are.”
I don’t understand what she’s trying to say, but of course, I only found out about Alphas and Omegas a month ago. Mom was raised by her village. She understands things I don’t.
“An Omega comes from the Divine Feminine, Veda. Legends back home tell stories that the Goddess herself gave the strands of her hair to create Omegas for the world. Before, Omegas were men and women. As long as we carried the Divine Feminine in our hearts, we were blessed by the Divine Feminine. Intuition, nurturing, intellect. An Omega is powerful.”
Anne said something like that about intuition, but not about male Omegas and Divine Feminine. The way my mother talks about us is reverent and full of love. To her, it’s more than a biology class.
It’s…divine.
“The male Omegas were the first to disappear, quickly followed by the women. Back home, the numbers were dwindling, but nothing like here, and I think it’s because they lost contact with what it means to carry that light inside.”
She reaches out and places her palm over my heart, a small smile on her lips. “Do you feel it right here? When you’re quiet? The answers come for you, I know they do. You just need to listen.”
My heart screams that theyaremine. It’sbeenscreaming it at me, and I’ve just been pushing it away…following someone else’s words. I know they feel the same. They’ve told me so.
But does it matter?
What if I don’t scent-match with them? Am I making us all suffer, as Major said?
In a whisper, I tell my mom just that. About the doubts that have been plaguing me. About the war between my head and my heart.
“You’re talking about scent-matching as if it’s a thing you need other people to confirm, or an official process to check. Like one day you can get an official letter and point at the pack you should fall in love with.”
I’m not sure if she knows about the whole mating program the Alliance is running in Europe, but that sounds exactly like it.
