Page 87 of Generation Omega: Claimed
Thankfully, mentioning Thatcher brought Kazimir back to reality. “What about him?”
“I’m conflicted.” That’s the understatement of the century.
“Join the club, princess. What is this really about? The clock is ticking.”
“I don’t have alphas in my head anymore.”
That’s news to him, and he’s now conflicted. “What do you mean? How? Why?”
“We’ll get into that later, but it’s creating an unexpected issue. See, I now get tochoosewhat I share and what I don’t, and about Thatcher, I’m not sure what to say to the pack. I don’t like the idea of secrets, but some truths are…”
“Brutal,” he accurately provides, and then nods. “I get it. I’m quite well aware of Thatcher’s plans for Ethan and me.Lucky me—I know every single thought that douche has and receive updates after I’m away from him. I’m basically his confessional, and if that isn’t the most bizarre statement, I don’t know what is. But here we are.”
“I don’t understand how you can do this, knowing what he was going to do to Ethan.”
His arms cross over his chest, muscles rippling. “I didn’t know how detailed his plans were until after I’d made my choice about his fate—mind you, from the two crappy options I was given. But that’s not why I can tolerate his bad intentions.”
I wait for him to continue, but he just stands there staring at me as though I’m missing something. “Oh.”
“Yes. Now, say it.”
“You came to kill me, and you hurt Ethan.” I shouldn’t be grasping for reasons why what Kazimir did was forgivable and what Thatcher did wasn’t. But hold on… they aren’t the same.
“Hypocrisy?” Kazimir offers. “Is that what you’re searching for, a reason not to lump me in with our rogue?”
“Yes.”
His perceptiveness only makes him more attractive. “It’s true. I was what I was, and he wasn’t what he said he was. But this thing with Thatcher, it’s more than that. As much as it pains me to admit, Thatcher and I have a remarkable amount in common, enough for me to understand how he became what he is. There’s a world of contrast too, though it might not be comforting to you.”
“Please, explain. I’m really grappling with how to get past this.”
Kazimir swallows, proving his Adam’s apple is pleasing too. Then his eyes tighten, as though it’s offensive how much I obviously enjoy gawking at him. He ruefully shakes his head, but he can’t make me disappear—I win again. “I know what I am and why. Even becoming this disgustingly approachable embarrassment to my professional killer persona—which is disagreeable as fuck—doesn’t create any illusions that I’m not what I am.”
He searches my face for understanding, perhaps thinking his words weren’t good enough. Even though I’m not totally with him, I trust that he’ll get me there, so I nod for him to continue.
“It took time and full access to his thoughts—as well as the ability to erase his memories of our interactions when things go off the rails—to understand the root of his evil. His sinister flaw is his labeling system.”
“Labeling system?!”
“I know. It’s not flashy. But it’s the best way to describe it. He smacks a label on everything at almost first glance, and there is no process for accepting any new information or contradicting any already established definitions. Before our last two packmates arrived, I watched Gideon break it down for Thatcher, educating him on how to become a respected member of the pack, and Thatcheractedlike he got it. But he couldn’t.”
Kazimir’s expression dulls briefly, like he’s bargaining, time traveling back to that night and desperately wishing Thatcher would have improved on his own. “But he’d already decided Gideon was a clueless, undeserving actor, and all proof to the contrary was lost on him. Ethan is a usurping beta who doesn’t know his place and is a threat to yourhigh-and-mighty-hood. I’m the pack destroyer, which is fair. Jameson is an attractively vapid personification of entitled uselessness—I’m not sure he’s that far off with that one. Thatcher has nothing bad to say about Ory or Mackenzie, since they’re indisputably preordained into this, and Ory would crush his nuts into dust if Thatcher said anything.”
I have to ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know. “And me?”
“Truth?”
“Always.”
Kazimir shrugs, absolving himself of any consequence of sharing. “Immature, ignorant, headstrong omega who must be managed for the greater good.”
I gag. “Managed byhim, of course.”
“Well, he is your fanciest alpha—according to him, at least.”
“Blech.”
“I concur. So, you understand how I’m different—don’t you?” Kazimir would never admit it, but he needs my answer.
