Page 77 of Generation Omega: Claimed
His expression twists into pure torment. “I used to say that I never imagined being an alpha, but that was a lie. I always hoped. What’s true is that I never imagined failing so appallingly that I would earn this fate. But I did. I did this. I can’t hate you for it. I earned the worst imaginable fate for a fallen alpha.”
Thatcher releases a breath that sends shock waves of discomfort through him. Then he meets my gaze, wearing no armor at all. “You may not have considered it, but I have. Iwill never know the warmth of my omega’s touch. I will never reclaim my honor. This sentence is forever. During heats, I will experience the most excruciating agony—pain that will make my current state like nothing more than a scratch.”
His ragged attempt to swallow is disturbing. “That’s what this is. It’s living every single minute unable to forget exactly how I failed and how I’ve been ejected from the only home I’ll ever have. Failure was always my greatest fear…” When his oppressive grief overwhelms him, he releases a constricted sob. “… and now, it’s the air I breathe through a choking, burning throat.”
“Thatcher,” I say in a gentler tone than I’m accustomed to, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think this is a fair punishment. Death would be better.”
“Yes, it would.”
I have to ask, but I can’t decide whether sadism is inspiring the question. “Is that what you truly want? I’m not saying I’ll just do it—I’m still the boss of you, and I get to decide how long you remain animated in your body bag. But is it what you would prefer?”
Thatcher considers, the weight of the question heavy on him. “I wish that was my honest desire, but I can’t lie to you or to myself, as it turns out. But you’re the reason I want to stay. If you still believe I can be of service to this pack, then I want to try.”
He scoffs, giving his fries a dismissive assessment. “You’ll put me out of my misery if we’re both delusional, and even if I live long enough to confront how I became this monstrous version of the man I could have been, it will be a gift. To die in your failure is very different than knowing you managed to evolve, even by some small measure. But only if you can stand to look at me that long.”
Now, I’m chuckling like the lofty humanitarian I am. “I’ll have you know that I looked at my evil brother for thirty-fouryears before killing him, so I think I can stand to look at you a bit longer. But I can’t stand to smell you for even another second, so finish your lunch. Then we’ll dump this vehicle, claim our next ride, and stop at a motel to get cleaned up. In a few hours, we’ll be back with the pack and see what happens next.”
Thatcher’s fear ignites. He’s not afraid for himself, but all the ways he could hurt Tillie and the pack.Thepack—that’s how he thinks of it now, nothispack.
“You can’t hurt her. I won’t let you, and you don’t want to. I know it’s probably the worst thing that’s ever been asked of you, but I’m going to ask anyway.”
“What?”
“Trust me. I want you to live, heal, and serve our pack—that’s what I want, and I get what I want. So, eat up,stinky. I can’t take you anywhere like this. You’ll scare people.”
His eyes reveal a tiny sliver of hope, and knowing I put it there makes me a little more comfortable with all the ways I’m going to fuck this up. But hey, I fed him and let him out of his designated carrying case, and soon, he’ll get a bath. Who says I can’t get a goldfish someday? I’ve totally got this.
As I climb back into the driver’s seat, I slip—not my footing, but the character I’m playing. Who I’m pretending to be. Who I need the omegaverse to think I am. Who Ethan deserves for me to be. It’s just for a moment, one that might destroy everything. But it hits me, just how much I’m going to miss this when my façade cracks open and they all know exactly who and what I am.
CHAPTER 37
GIDEON
I can’t hear anything from Tillie’s mind when she’s away in her garden with Mackenzie. The quiet is stark and awful, an unfortunate preview of what’s to come. My error smacked me as soon as I uttered it, my grand declaration that I had the right to violate Tillie’s wishes, but Jameson didn’t. It was crap. I was crap. And the rotten thing about self-awareness—now, I have to make this right with both of them.
You must maintain awareness of your omega at all times.
I’ve been blathering at the damn omegaverse for hours and getting complete radio silence, but now it’s here to declare whatIshould do withmyomega.
I beg to differ with the lofty wisdom from the great beyond. I think our pack’s foundation and Tillie’s fortress walls are best served by unmistakable displays of love, respect, and trust. Love Tillie. Respect Tillie. Trust Tillie. The recipe is clear. I need to listen to her needs, not yours.
That is a mistake. Omegas need guidance and boundaries, severe forms of protection when necessary.
I almost blurt a random laugh like an unhinged dude, but I manage to keep it on the inside. Here, let’s try a little thought exercise,oh wise and mightylegacy. Remind me again howmany omegas have survived in the past five hundred years. Oh, right…none.
And, just FYI, you’re sounding a lot like Thatcher. Remember him? The guy whose fatal flaw was never bothering to get to know Tillie? If you’re truly advising me to ignore what’s suffocating my omega, then you share the same flaw as your hand-picked, traitorous professor.
After all, there are like eight billion people on the planet, with almost eight million in the San Francisco Bay Area. There were about a thousand at Omega-Palooza. And you pickedhim. If you’re ready to seek redemption for that unwise choice, why don’t you start with providing some intel on Kazimir—specifically, whether he’s with us or against us?
The legacy vanishes instantly and unhelpfully. What a shocker.
Ethan is so stiff that even his breathing is labored, and he keeps rubbing that bondmark like it’s a stain he can’t get out. Jameson is sprawled over the couch, working his way through what must be a dozen tiny bottles of liquor, while scowling at his obvious sobriety. And I’m busy scouring every memory of every second with Kazimir for clues about his loyalties.
In sifting through the evidence, I’m basically assembling a stack of proof detailing all the ways he’s saved us. Anyone can lie. Anyone can deceive. But if Kazimir has betrayed us—isbetraying us—then he’s a better actor than I’ve ever been. I’ll ship him all my awards, straight to the hell I deliver him to if he ever tries to hurt my pack.
Finally, I pull my head out of my ass and remember my job, setting my hand on Ethan’s shoulder. I know, without being told, that he’s staying with Tillie and his alpha, his epic decision made. For him, for Tillie, and for the pack, I hope with everything I am that Kazimir is still with us.
Standing there, almost as rigid as Ethan, my frustration expands as I can’t make sense of the omega legacy. Why won’t it just tell us what’s happening with Kazimir? Why does it sprinkle suggestions or demands about one thing and totally clam up about another? It must know the truth of who Kazimir is—who we all are. But it didn’t know about the flighty professor until that jackass bolted, so who fucking knows anything?
