Chapter 6 Jonah
My knife moves steadily against the cutting board as I chop even slices of carrot like Mom taught me when I was eight and more likely to lose a finger than help with dinner.
The familiar rhythm of prep work should be soothing. Mom is working on the roast and I’m handling vegetables, sunlight streaming through windows.
It's not soothing. I feel like I’m counting down to my execution.
"Pass me the salt, sweetheart." Mom's voice carries the same warmth as always, but there's tension underneath. She knows how miserable I am. Of course she knows. Twenty-one years of being her son and I can't hide anything from her.
Children's artwork covers the refrigerator—my nieces' crayon masterpieces next to nephew's handprint turkeys from last Thanksgiving.
There are family photos papering every available surface.
Mom and Dad's wedding day. My siblings as babies.
Baptisms and graduations and all the milestones that mark a normal, happy life.
The life I'm about to leave behind.
Car doors slam in the driveway. Then another set. The sound makes my chest tighten.
"They're here," Mom says unnecessarily, already moving toward the front door.
My siblings arrive like a force of nature. Corinne bustles in first, wrestling three kids out of their car seats while simultaneously directing her husband to grab the dessert. Robert follows, everyone talking at once in the comfortable chaos of family.
"Uncle Jonah!" My little niece launches herself at my legs. “Have you seen my dress for the wedding?”
“I did and it’s beautiful.” It is. It’s this pale pink chiffon thing that she’s going to get sticky in about three seconds flat. But she’ll be beautiful along with her stickiness.
"And you. You’re going to be beautiful too," she says. She climbs onto a chair beside me, grabbing a carrot slice. "Like Belle when she marries the Beast."
Out of the mouths of babes.
The kitchen fills with bodies and noise. My brother James arguing with Michael about football. Corinne directing traffic while trying to keep her youngest from climbing the refrigerator.
Sometimes the noise of my family drives me crazy and I need a little quiet time, now all I can think is how much I am going to miss it.
"Need help?" Robert appears at my elbow, already reaching for another knife.
"I got it."
But he starts chopping onions anyway. Always looking out for his baby brother. Even when his baby brother is about to marry into a fortune and doesn't need looking after.
Except I do need it. I need someone to tell me that I don't have to go through with it. That there's another way.
"You okay?" Robert's voice is quiet, pitched under the family noise.
"Fine."
He doesn't believe me. I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the protective alpha instincts he can't turn off even though I'm twenty-one and supposedly capable of making my own decisions.
Supposedly.
We crowd around the dining room table like we have every Sunday for as long as I can remember.
Dad at the head, Mom to his right, all of us scattered in the familiar constellation of family.
Usually I love this—the noise, the teasing, the way we all fit together like puzzle pieces but tonight I watch my siblings with their mates and feel my chest hollow out.
I watch them. Robert and Sarah sharing a look over the twins' heads when one of them tries to feed mashed potatoes to the dog.
James reaching over to wipe sauce from his wife's chin without thinking about it.
Corinne and David's hands linking automatically when they're not cutting food for their kids.
That's what marriage should look like.
Not whatever Alexander Colborne is going to put me through.
"So, Jonah." Robert grins across the table. "Are you ready? I still can’t believe they’re pulling a wedding together at such short notice. We’ve got the invites but I’ve barely had time to get my suit dry cleaned."
My throat goes dry. “They’ve got the resources for it,” I say finally.
"Are you excited?" This from James's wife, Lisa, who always tries to see the best in everything.
"I—" My voice cracks. "Excuse me. I'll get more rolls."
I escape to the kitchen before anyone can respond, hands shaking as I grab the basket from the counter. The walls feel too close. Too small. Like the whole house is shrinking around me.
Soon I'll be married to Alexander Colborne, living in his massive estate, surrounded by his wealth and his staff and his complete indifference to everything that matters to me.
"Sweetheart?"
I spin around. Mom stands in the doorway, worry lines etched deep around her eyes.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
The gentle question breaks something inside me.
"I thought I could do it, Mom." The words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. "I thought I could marry him and make it work, but I can't. He's arrogant, condescending. He has no values. How am I suppose to follow an alpha like that?"
She crosses to me, wraps her arms around my shoulders the way she did when I was small and the world felt too big to handle.
"Tell me," she says simply.
"It's not fair." The words come out broken. "You and Dad, you found each other. Real love. Partnership. Everyone in the family has. I need an alpha I can respect." I sigh and lean back against the kitchen counter. “I can’t do this. I know it’s a prime match but after we marry, it’ll be too late. I need to stop this now. I need to find someone who is right for me.”
Mom pulls back, cupping my face in her hands. “It’s God’s will, my love.”
“Is it? Maybe He expects me to be brave and turn this down. Maybe I’m meant to show the world that morals mean something, even if it’s a prime match.”
The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that I am right. There is no way that I am a match with Alex. No way.
I can understand opposites being a match but that’s things like someone sporty loving someone who’s a couch potato. It’s not marrying someone who is the complete opposite of every value that I have.
I also know that the moment I say my vows, it is too late.
I don’t believe in divorce. I believe in one alpha for life and I believe in the vows.
If I am going to say them, then I have to mean them.
I can’t hold my fingers behind my back. Once I am married, then I’ll be committed to him. There will be no going back.
I can’t marry him in the first place.
I give Mom a big hug and we head back into the dinner where no one thankfully asks me any more questions about the wedding.
After everyone leaves, I camp out in the corner of the living room where we keep the family computer searching as many keywords as I can.
The Omega Match Bureau matches omegas and alphas based on the blood and biochemical markups.
Matches that aren’t prime are allowed to say no.
It’s only the prime ones that they enforce.
It’s supposed to be for the good of everyone and until a few days ago, I believed that. Now I’m not so sure.
There has to be a loophole. What if Alex were a convicted serial killer? Or in a ten year coma? They couldn’t force those.
Bureau regulations. Alpha fitness requirements. Grounds for match invalidation.
The search results are extensive. Page after page of legal jargon and bureaucratic language that makes my head spin. But buried in the procedural guidelines, I find it:
Matches may be invalidated in cases where the alpha demonstrates unfitness through criminal behavior, substance abuse, or conduct unbecoming of an alpha partner.
Conduct unbecoming.
My pulse jumps. Alexander Colborne's entire life is conduct unbecoming.
I dig deeper, finding case studies and precedents. Alphas denied matches for drunk driving convictions. Others flagged for violent behavior or financial irresponsibility. None of those were prime matches but the Bureau takes alpha fitness seriously—in theory.
This could work.
But as I read more, my hope starts to crumble. The cases that succeed involve actual convictions.
Alexander Colborne might be a disaster, but he's a rich disaster with lawyers who keep him out of real trouble.
Still. It's worth trying.
I run up to my bedroom and grab my wallet. When I left the Bureau after meeting Alex for the first time, David Sun gave me his card. I can only hope he answers the phone on weekends.
He answers on my third try. “Sun. How can I help?”
“It’s Jonah Wells. I’m due to marry Alex Colbourne.”
"Yes I remember,” he sounds amused. “How can I help you?"
"I’m contesting the match." My voice sounds steadier than I feel. "On grounds of alpha unfitness."
"I see,” he says, although I can tell that he doesn’t. “Can you provide the specific grounds for contestation?"
I launch into my carefully prepared argument. Alexander's drinking. His reckless behavior. The scandals. The public displays of irresponsibility that should disqualify him from omega partnership.
Sun listens politely, occasionally asking clarifying questions. When I finish, there's a long pause.
"Mr. Wells, I understand your concerns. However, there haven’t been any criminal convictions. No arrests in the past five years. No documented substance abuse treatment or legal troubles."
"But what about the recent incident where his assistant was hurt?”
"That was embarrassing and foolish but it was not illegal. Public intoxication would need to result in an arrest to be grounds for appeal."
My chest tightens. "What about his treatment of me personally? The way he—" I struggle for words that won't make me sound like a hysteric. "The inappropriate behavior during official meetings."
"Can you be more specific?"
"He touched me. During a family dinner and at the engagement photoshoot. Without my permission. Made me uncomfortable deliberately."
Another pause. "Mr. Wells, alpha courtship behavior can sometimes be... enthusiastic. Especially with high compatibility ratings like yours. Unless there was an actual assault, this wouldn't constitute grounds for appeal."
Alpha courtship behavior. That's what they call it.
"Your compatibility rating is incredibly high," Sun continues. "It’s some of the highest on record. Our algorithm measures genetic compatibility, pheromone response and dozens of other factors. It identifies prime matches regardless of surface personality conflicts."
Surface personality conflicts.
“This is more than that. I can’t marry him. He is not a good person. You can’t expect me to marry someone like that.”
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wells. Without criminal convictions or documented abuse, there are no grounds for appeal. The match stands. I expect you to present yourself on Sunday or you will face charges. Prime matches are mandatory, as you know."
The line goes dead.
I sit at the kitchen table staring out of the window as the sun sets. The church bell tower stretches toward the sky, same as it has my entire life. Same as it will after I'm gone.
Gone.
After Sunday, I'll be living in his house and I’m supposed to be grateful for the privilege.
For just a moment, I consider what would happen if this conversation leaked to the press. If they found out I tried to get out of the match. The headlines would be brutal.
OMEGA REJECTS COLBORNE HEIR. PRIME MATCH FAILS BEFORE WEDDING.
For a moment, I feel guilty. It would destroy him. Whatever else Alexander Colborne is, he's still a person. He doesn't deserve to be humiliated in front of the entire country.
Then I remember his smirk when he touched my thigh at dinner. The way he deliberately aroused me during the photoshoot, fingers threading through my hair while cameras clicked. How he'd enjoyed making me react, making me flush and stammer while everyone watched.
He brought this on himself.
If he wanted a sweet, submissive omega who would worship the ground he walks on, he should have treated me with basic respect. Instead, he made it clear from the first meeting that he finds me amusing at best, irritating at worst.
Let him mock my faith. Let him sneer at my values and treat me like an amusing pet. I'll be the perfect traditional omega—submissive, deferential, everything the Bureau handbook says I should be.
I might not be able to get out of the wedding but I have everything I need to make him miserable if he keeps messing with me.