Page 85 of Generation Omega: Claimed
If Tillie had knives, I wouldn’t be breathing at all. “In that case, you deserve the leash you wear. You deserve the pain you feel right now and every second for the rest of your life. Better you than me—because what you’re experiencing is what you would have done to me if you’d murdered Ethan or any of my alphas.”
She cocks her head, reloading her quiver. “You planned to kill Kazimir and the innocent beta who only ended up in this mess because of his decency. And what did Kazimir do? He saved your life. You do get it, right? How much worthier Kazimir is than you?”
“I’m aware.”
“Good, because I don’t ever want you to forget that Kazimir Volkov is the reason we still have a chance to save the omegaverse from extinction. It’s certainly no thanks to you.”
“Tillie, please…”
“No.” Her face reddens with seething rage. “You don’t talk to me. You don’t say my name. You love status and hierarchies so much—well, welcome to the fucking bottom, you traitor. And don’t you call anyone by their names. You’re beneath them. They aremyalphas. They deserve respect. Ethan is my soulmate, and you can call himSir. You’re now the pack butler you thought we needed, maybe even our clown or, better yet, court jester. Or really, just ourrogue, annoying burden. You don’t even deserve a name, but I’ll leave that detail up to your new boss.”
The thumping reverberations from a helicopter reach us, and Tillie’s eyes harden. “That’s Sage. She’s here to help. Kazimir called her. You’ll get a little reunion first, and then we need to make ourpack revealannouncement and leave.”
I want to plead with her to let me hide my shame from Sage, but that’s what Tillie’s waiting for, just so she can deny me.
“Our packmates won’t be intentionally cruel to you—Kazimir’s orders,” Tillie says as she moves toward the door. “But they will give you the boundariesyouneed. I don’t have the time or energy to waste on you until you have something to offer the omegaverse and this pack.”
“Why don’t you just have Kazimir kill me?”
There’s laughter in her eyes when she focuses on my neck again. “Because you don’t deserve peace,Rogue. You deserve torture. But, either way, you’re pack, andwedon’t forget the mission even when it’s difficult—not even when it sucks as much as you.”
Her words still impact me, even after she slams the door behind her. Immobile, trapped in this place, in this body, in this life, I’m ready to beg Kazimir to obliterate my mind. But ideas begin to stir, as though compelled by a magician’s wand. A force within me—certainly the omega legacy—is here to continue what Kazimir and Tillie instigated, the confrontation between who I thought I was and who I actually am.
The legacy demands that I assess every word that was spoken, every expression, every change in tone and emotion. It’s like a mandatory rumination loop, trapping me in my new failures. It’s sickening to see it all play out, like a movie in my head. Only on the fourth round do I understand the lesson. I still don’t have a clue who Tillie is, and I spent not one ounce of effort rectifying that oversight. It was still all about me and my perceived slights—it had nothing to do with the woman Kazimir called our queen.
The origin omega would have mounted my head on a pole. Tillie’s more subtle, but her weapons are just as sharp. Is it possible? Could it actually be? Is Tillie the omega I alwaysdreamed would come, the one with a brand of power that couldn’t be denied, not even by our fiercest enemies?
For what it’s worth… I push my words at the omega legacy. I get it. I’ll do better. I’ll serve my purpose.
The door opens again, and I stare into the green eyes of the person I would have called my best friend before this moment. A best friend would display some emotion about my plight, but Sage’s eyes reveal only disappointment, not a hint of mercy. Her miraculous empathy a once overflowing river that’s finally run dry.
The silence between us is a black hole swallowing our shared past minute by minute. We’ll be complete strangers soon.
“I’m…”
“Nope. I’ve got nothing for you.” Without another word, she’s gone, and I can do nothing but sit in this space, unmoving, until someone remembers I exist, or has a use for me.
The movie begins again, but it doesn’t start with the omegaverse’s arrival in my life. It begins at the beginning and forces me to watch my life play out in excruciating detail. I already know it won’t stop until someone comes for me, just like I deserve.
Now, I discover the only part of me that can still move. My tears.
CHAPTER 41
TILLIE
I’m fuming when I smash that door open and crash right into Ethan, proving he was thenanniestof all the nannies hovering outside the den. Upon impact, his arms surround me, and he gently moves me aside so Kazimir can close the door to Thatcher’s lair.
Rubbing my back, Ethan asks, “You okay?”
Well, crap—we’ve officially reached our first post-reunion hiccup. Because how exactly do I answer that question? Likeam I the assholeif I tell the truth? And if I don’t, does that make me a liar? Lying is generally accepted to be a bad idea, especially when attempting to build a team.
Alright, breathe, Tillie, and turn on your brain…andyour conscience. I’ve barely even begun to invite oxygen into my lungs when the first clue arrives. Yup, the seriously corrupting reputation universally linked with having great power is impossible to miss. After all, superheroes and life coaches babble endlessly about responsibly handling power. It’s actually tough to imagine a scenario where power could be more easily abused than this one.
I certainlycanspill the dang toxic tea on just how awful our designated rogue is, but does that count as using my powerwisely or fairly? I’m pissed right now, no doubt, but is that an acceptable reason to ignore what’s best for this pack and our mission? I’m internally grumbling as I admit that sharing the truth about Thatcher’s murderous plans isn’t a one-way ticket to pack harmony.
While I stall and withhold this dark secret that’s raring to escape, my gaze travels from Ethan’s worried face, to Gideon’s grimace—I’m pretty sure he’s battling the urge to take a little dip in my thoughts—Jameson’s pensive disinterest as he leans against a wall, and Ory’s fiercely impassive expression that conveys he’s willing to start yanking limbs off Thatcher with no explanation required.
Finally, I reach Kazimir, whose eyes… how did I not notice just how gorgeous they are, how mysteriously dark and brooding? Almond-shaped, with lashes that should require a license to operate—how did I miss this?
