2. Echoes Of Destiny
2
ECHOES OF DESTINY
~KAMARI~
" I t didn't matter how much money they offered, how many properties they promised to sign over, or what political advantages the marriage would bring. In the end, I was still being sold like cattle at an auction, expected to smile and nod as men twice my age discussed my worth in terms of dowry and business mergers."
The words on my Kindle's screen blur as tears threaten to fall.
I've read this passage at least five times now, each time hitting closer to home. The protagonist's situation mirrors my own so perfectly that it's almost cruel – another Omega forced into an arranged marriage for the sake of family alliances and business deals.
At least she found a way out.
Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling of my modest bedroom in this Omega Safe Haven. The contrast between my current surroundings and my family's mansion is stark, but I'd take this tiny space with its freedom over gilded bars any day.
"The worst part wasn't the arrangement itself. " I continued reading aloud, my voice barely whispering. "It was how they all acted like I should be grateful. Grateful to be handed over to a pack of Alphas who saw me as nothing more than a strategic move on their corporate chessboard. A pretty piece to be positioned for maximum advantage."
A shiver runs down my spine as I remember my own almost-wedding. The way my father had proudly announced the merger – because that's what it was, a merger , not a marriage – to everyone who would listen.
How the Alphas had looked at me during our first meeting, assessing me like a prized mare at a show.
How long until they find me?
The thought sends another wave of anxiety through me as I dare think of the plentiful consequences of my actions. I know it's only a matter of time before my father sends his men. He has too much pride, too much at stake, to let me ruin his carefully laid plans.
A familiar warmth begins to pool in my lower abdomen, making me press my thighs together as I bite my lip.
These moments are coming more frequently now – waves of desire that leave me aching and frustrated. My body's natural response to stress and the approaching milestone I've been dreading.
My first Heat.
"Not now," I whimper, trying to will away the sensation.
My skin feels too tight, and far too sensitive, and I know these are just the early warning signs. Soon, I'll be completely at the mercy of my biology, and the thought terrifies me.
The book's heroine at least had a plan – a fake marriage to a sympathetic Alpha who helped her escape. But me? I'm still trying to figure out how to survive day by day, let alone find a pack that would want me for more than my family's connections.
Rolling onto my side, I curl into a ball and try to focus on breathing through the wave of arousal. The silk sheets – one of the few luxuries I allowed myself to keep – only make it worse, the smooth fabric like phantom touches against my heated skin.
Where am I going to find Alphas who see me as more than a transaction?
The romance novels I escape into make it seem so easy.
The heroines always stumble across their perfect matches – strong, caring Alphas who protect and cherish them. But reality is crueler. I've seen it firsthand with my mother, watched how her spirit dimmed year after year under my father's thumb.
My phone's sudden ring makes me jolt, nearly dropping my Kindle. The custom ringtone – a soft classical piece – tells me exactly who it is before I even look at the screen.
Mother.
I stare at her picture, remembering how Astraea had helped set up our phones with military-grade encryption. Even if my father's tech team tried to trace the call, they'd hit nothing but dead ends.
"Your father may be rich," Astraea had said while working her magic, "but money can't buy the kind of protection Velvet's contacts provide."
If it wasn’t for Velvet, we wouldn’t be here. Surviving under a roof the very government can’t easily touch.
At least…not yet anyway.
However, it’s only a matter of time.
Only a number of ticks and tocs before we’re finally hunted and claimed. To be used and abused in this world that despises Omegas as if we’re not a part of this ecosystem between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas.
My thumb hovers over the answer button as my heart races. These calls are becoming rarer – my mother only reaches out when she can be absolutely certain she won't be caught.
Each time, her voice carries more worry, more resignation.
Finally, I accept the call, bringing the phone to my ear with a slightly trembling hand.
"Hello?" I keep my voice soft, matching the hushed tone I know she'll use.
"Kamari? Beta?" Her voice comes through equally quiet, the endearment – meaning 'child' in our mother tongue – making my chest ache. "Are you well?"
"I'm okay, Mother." I switch to Hindi, the language feeling both familiar and foreign on my tongue after months away. "Are you safe?"
"For the moment." There's rustling in the background, and I picture her in her private prayer room – the only place my father doesn't have monitored. "Are you eating properly? Taking your supplements?"
Typical mother questions, but I hear the real concern underneath. She's really asking if I'm healthy enough to survive on my own, away from the cushioned life I was raised in.
"Yes, Mother. I'm taking care of myself." I pause, knowing what's coming next. "How...how is everyone?"
"Your father..." She takes a shaky breath. "Kamari, I don't have much time left before I have to support his decisions. You understand, don't you? I've held him off as long as I could, but..."
"Why?" The word comes out sharper than I intended. "Why would you want me to walk the same path you did? To experience the same heartache?"
"Beta—"
"To be nothing but a trophy wife to Alphas who only see dollar signs when they look at me?" My voice cracks. "Is that what you want for your only daughter?"
The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken pain.
"I never wished this for you," she finally whispers, her voice thick with tears. "But I have no say. That's my punishment as an Omega myself. My purpose is just to obey and raise the kids they make. Nothing more."
"So because I'm the only female, I deserve to be tossed like trash to the first set of Alphas who promised riches and business opportunities?" The heat building in my core turns to anger, making me sit up straight. "Is that all I'm worth to this family?"
"Do you know," I continue, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion, "that Vladislav Petrov can't even pronounce my name correctly? My own supposed Alpha-to-be butchers 'Kamari Prava Ahvi' like it's some tongue twister he's forced to endure."
My mother's sharp intake of breath tells me I've struck a nerve. Good . Someone needs to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
"He calls me 'Kammy'…like I'm some American sorority girl he picked up at a bar." The disgust in my voice is palpable. "As if generations of cultural significance can be reduced to a cheap nickname because he's too privileged to put in the effort."
"Beta, please?—"
"No, Mother. You need to hear this." I stand up, pacing the small confines of my room as the words pour out. "Do you know what he said during the engagement dinner? When Nani tried to explain the significance of the Mehndi ceremony?"
I don't wait for her response.
"He called our traditions 'useless Indian customs'…in that thick Russian accent of his, as if coming from what he believes is a first-world country somehow makes him superior." The memory makes my blood boil all over again. "He couldn't even be bothered to hide his disdain. And this is the man Father wants me to submit to?"
"Vladislav...he may lack knowledge regarding our roots," my mother attempts to reason, her voice small, "but that's something he can learn with time. Many international marriages?—"
"Learn?" I can't help but laugh, though there's no humor in it. "Mother, in order for one to learn, they must WANT to learn. There's a very big difference between someone who learns enough to get by and pretends they know it all versus someone genuinely interested in understanding the layers of our culture, our religion, and the impact these traditions have on our daily lives."
I pause by my window, looking out at the city lights twinkling in the distance.
Somewhere out there, my perfect pack might exist. Alphas who would appreciate all of me, not just the parts that fit their narrow worldview.
"He's just a racist prick with privileges," I declare firmly.
"Kamari!" My mother hisses, scandalized. "You cannot speak of your future Alpha this way!"
"He is NOT my future Alpha," I snap back, my Omega instincts bristling at the very suggestion. "And I won't apologize for calling him exactly what he is. Their entire pack doesn't have an ounce of diversity among them. It's all old-money Russians who think they own the world because they have a few successful businesses and mafia connections."
Dropping back onto my bed, I curl around my pillow, suddenly feeling very small.
"You know what I've always dreamed of, Mother?" My voice softens, taking on a wistful tone. "I wanted a pack that was like a beautiful tapestry of cultures. Alphas from different corners of the world – maybe an Italian with a passion for art, a German engineer who could teach me about precision and discipline, someone from Singapore who could show me a whole new way of looking at life, or an African Alpha whose stories would transport me to places I've never been."
I can hear her soft sigh, knowing she remembers all the times I talked about this as a child.
"I wasn't picky about race or nationality," I continue, trailing my fingers over the intricate patterns on my bedspread. "I just wanted to learn and grow. To make connections that would open my world to new experiences and perspectives. I wanted Alphas who would be excited to share their heritage with me, just as I would share mine with them."
"Beta..." The pain in my mother's voice is clear. "Life is not like those romance novels you read."
"I know," I whisper, feeling tears slide down my cheeks. "Reality has a way of crushing those dreams, doesn't it? Making you realize that 'marrying who you want' is nothing but a fairy tale for Omegas like us."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with shared understanding and grief.
"We're not meant to have choices," my mother finally says, her voice carrying years of resigned acceptance. "Our duty is to our family's honor, to maintain alliances that benefit the whole, not just our own happiness."
"But what about our worth as individuals?" I challenge, though my voice lacks its earlier fire. "What about all the potential we have to be more than just…bargaining chips in men's games?"
"Kamari..." She hesitates, and I hear muffled voices in the background. "Your father is coming. I must go."
"Mother, wait?—"
"Just... think about what's at stake," she pleads quickly. "The Petrov pack may not be perfect, but they can offer protection, and stability. In our world, that's worth more than romantic notions of cultural diversity."
"Is it worth my soul?" I ask, but she's already gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the ever-present ache in my chest.
Letting my phone drop onto the bed, I stare at my reflection in the window.
The girl looking back at me seems different from the one who grew up in luxury, dreaming of a multicultural fairy tale.
Her eyes are harder, her expression more guarded.
Reality sets in and you realize you can't simply "marry who you want."
The words echo in my mind, bitter but true.
Romance novels can paint beautiful pictures of Omegas finding their perfect matches, of love transcending cultural boundaries and societal expectations.
But in the real world, Omegas like me are still bound by traditions that value alliance over affection.
Wealth over well-being.
It’s how it is…and will always be.
That's only reserved for fairytales.