Chapter Six
Halley
My vision fractures at the edges, soft and shimmery, like light glancing off broken glass.
O-space is here.
The sharp panic in my chest eases as calm wraps around my bones like velvet, and a strange confidence anchors itself behind my breastbone.
I know Prime Alpha Zero is counting on me using my Omega Command, but I fight against it. I brace against the surge of sick, sweet whisperings that urge me to use the power inside me. To strip someone else’s will bare and wear it like a coat.
I grit my teeth in determination. I can’t let that happen. Not again. I’m better than that.
I won’t do it.
The townsfolk are scared, but I don’t have to exert dominance to help them. Not when there is another option.
So I dig deep and reach for something I know calms even the most crazed beasts. A power that brought an Alpha in Bloodlust to heel.
I feel clumsy, like a hand blindly rattling through a drawer, searching for the right tool in the dark.
I can’t find it, and the darker influence of my Command feels like it’s hovering over my shoulder, snickering at my imminent failure.
Maybe this will fail, but I have to at least try to hold firm to my values before I dash them aside.
Sucking in a deep inhale, I close my eyes.
I recall how much I wanted to soothe Jason in his hospital bed all those months ago. I focus on the need to comfort my loved one. Then I remember purring for Viper as he fought against his Bloodlust, and that surge of compassion that unlocked my O-space so I could help him find his way back.
Somehow, it works, and I feel myself slide into a slow, syrupy crawl of softness that opens the door to my submissive abilities.
I put my trust in my reawakened instincts and let them take the lead.
A rumble begins in my chest, traveling up my throat and passing my lips.
A purr.
Deep and true.
Murmurs stir like wind through tall grass, soft at first but gaining weight.
“Omega.”
“It’s an Omega.”
“What’s an Omega doing here?”
I purr louder.
It’s like honey spilling down my throat, and unlike its more violent twin, this power doesn’t take payment. There is no cost for its use. No pain or mind-bending. This is all mine, as easy as breathing, and not some sharpened thing that bites back.
The sound, resonant and impossible to ignore, threads through the crowd like smoke, weaving between words, settling under skin. It finds each sharp edge and smooths it. Serenity blooms where rage once burned, and the shouting dulls.
The mob breathes. Everything softens.
Anger deflates like a punctured balloon, and Rheamont’s citizens finally listen when the soldiers tell them to retreat. They slowly begin to leave the town square.
This.
This is what it means to be an Omega.
A pendulum swinging between sweet and strong, giving our community what they need. The steady pulse that keeps the wild from unraveling. We were meant to be the gravity that holds Alphas and Betas together. Without it, chaos has ruled for centuries.
Omegas are the hand on the back, the stillness in the roar, and somewhere along the line, we stopped.
They stole it. Buried it. Broke it. And now they’re trying to make it a weapon.
For better or worse, it’s still in me. Instinct doesn’t die that easy.
And today, I remember who I am.
Movement catches my eye. A lone figure appears at the corner of the town bakery. Gun raised. Trained on the crowd.
My purr stutters.
It’s not one of Zero’s.
Neither are they sporting the Fathim insignia, no familiar colors or cut of army fatigues.
He could be one of the Beta townsfolk. A mechanic, maybe. Someone’s neighbor. Someone’s uncle. His stance isn’t aggressive. There’s a civilian softness to the way he holds the rifle, like it doesn’t quite belong in his hands.
But the longer I look, the more a sense of wrongness settles over me.
There is a lack of muscle definition that all Betas have. He has stringy arms and sunken cheeks as if it’s been weeks since he’s had a decent hot meal. An exhausted slope of his shoulders, betraying poor posture on a weak frame.
And around his mouth…
My stomach turns.
Sores. Raw, crusted, and infected.
They’re painful and old. Far older than any Demi-human takes to heal.
It strikes me.
He hasn’t healed because he can’t.
He’s not like us.
He’s weaker. Slower. Fragile.
It’s a Human!
Before I can raise the alarm, gunfire cracks and, in my periphery, a man drops.
My eyelashes flutter in shock.
For one dumb, stunned moment, I can’t comprehend what I’m seeing.
He’s just… dead.
My purr sticks in my throat.
The mob shudders as my calming compulsion breaks, and like a lit fuse, they explode.
Shrieks of panic and screams of fear pierce the crowd.
I throw myself out of the fray and behind the line of soldiers as the crowd surges forward with bats and clubs and raw pain. The fury is back and worse than before because they don’t understand it wasn’t us.
They think we pulled the trigger!
I have to get to Zero. I have to tell him about the Human!
I scan the chaos, searching for the imposing Prime Alpha.
The colors blur. The screaming and shouting morph into a cacophony of noise.
“Specialist Sparks!”
Zero’s voice reaches me like it’s underwater, warping around the edges.
Everything is moving as molasses and lightning all at once. I feel detached, distant, as if I’m watching myself from afar. I’m here, but I’m not.
A window shatters inches from my head, and a small glass shard cuts my face.
Zero yanks me aside.
“Snap out of it, soldier!”
I stagger, and finally, finally, find my voice.
“There’s a Human!” I gasp.
Zero snarls, “Yeah. And there’s a fuck load more coming.”
My stomach drops. Of course there are. How could I forget that an entire fracking army is advancing?
A force so large that it’s irrelevant that it’s made of weak, sore-infested Humans.
It marched deep into our domain, pushed its soldiers to the limit, for one sole purpose. Wiping. Us. Out.
And we’re standing right in its path.
“Can you do it?” he demands, hands on my shoulders, shaking me.
He doesn’t have to say what it is. He knows it’s not my purr the General sent me here to test. He needs me to use my Omega Command. To force them to save their own damned lives.
The townsfolk are panicking, fighting against the wrong threat. They’re running in the wrong direction, or not running at all.
I try to pull my purr back into my throat, but it won’t come. The time for soft coercion has passed.
The crack of automatic weapons rips through the civilians like a warm knife through butter. Some bullets are mercifully headshots, and their host is dead before they hit the cobbled street. Others rip through flesh leaving behind screams that will never leave me.
A body drops beside me, and then another. Lives snuffed out in an instant.
Gunfire shatters windows, splinters wooden walls, and lifeblood stains the cobblestones.
Oh rut.
I should’ve acted sooner. Why did I think something passive like a purr would be enough in a war zone? One Command, simple and fast, and they’d all still be breathing instead of bleeding.
I hesitated.
Clung to my ridiculous morals.
Bodily autonomy? What good is that to the dead?
It was cowardice dressed as ethics.
And now they’re dying.
“Covering fire!” Prime Alpha Zero bellows, and his soldiers pivot, years of experience and training snapping into place. They aim their guns at the other end of the street, towards the real threat.
Human troops.
They scurry through the town like ants seeking sugar.
More bullets whizz, and another round of Betas crumple to the ground.
For the first time since I met him, Zero shows me genuine emotion.“Now’s not the time to be shy Omega Sparks, I’ve got bodies dropping and kids screaming — if you’ve got the power General Stone says you have, use it. Right now. Or we lose everything.”
The world’s gone mad. The screams won’t stop.
Fine.
If they need a monster to save them…
I’ll be that monster.
Use. Me.
That voice.
It’s mine, but not.
It whispers from a place deeper inside. A pulse of something magnificent curled in my belly like a sleeping beast that is finally awake. It slinks along my nerves.
This time I don’t ignore it or try to push it back.
I have to intervene.
I must.
They need someone to save them. Right? This is about survival.
Maybe just a taste.
A little test to see if it works.
Just pick one target. One person to ease into it so I know it won’t tear me into a thousand irretrievable pieces.
My eyes flick to Zero, and then to his soldiers. I need them out of the way if I’m going to save everyone. I can’t have anyone questioning my authority.
It unfurls and winds itself around my voice.
It’s silky. Sinister. Delicious.
“Leave Rheamont. Take your troops. Go to the evacuation point and help get people to safety,” I tell Zero.
It works, and the pain is devastating.
Deep in my insides, something tears. A pulse of sharp pain stabs again and again, like blood vessels bursting. White lights dance in my eyes as a headache screeches to a level I didn’t know was possible.
It hurts like it’s never hurt before.
And yet, my usual chorus of endless self-doubt is blissfully silent.
Frack, I’d forgotten how it sings in my veins and feels like the air bends around me.
I’ve missed this feeling.
For a split second, Zero’s eyes widen in confusion as he recognizes I’m directing my compulsion at him. His jaw ticks as he strains as he tries to fight it. Of course he does. I’d be disappointed in him if he didn’t.
But my Omega Command is not like an Alpha Command. It’s something entirely different.
An Alpha Command is a sharp snap. It’s loud, aggressive, easy to spot coming, and capable of fighting off if the target has enough grit or fury in their gut.
My Command doesn’t shout. It slips beneath skin, curls around the spine, and whispers straight into the primal part of the brain which wants to trust an Omega.
A breath. A pause. Then… a sharp nod.
I win.
A smile stretches over my features as he turns and pushes through the chaos, striding toward the evacuation point. He shouts orders at his men, and despite their confusion, they follow their Prime Alpha’s retreat without question.
Rut damn, it worked.
My vision swims. Just a flicker, as if my brain shorted out for a second. I taste copper at the back of my throat and swipe at my nose.
Blood.
Hot, thick, already staining my glove.
I ignore it.
I’m riding on a high unlike any other.
I made a Prime Alpha abandon his mission. Defy his duty. He just left.
Good. I don’t need someone ordering me around, using my power as his own.
I choose how I use it.
Me.
No one else.
I focus on the remaining citizens of Rheamont. They’re ruled by their fear, darting back and forth without direction or thought.
They need a firm hand.
The Command doesn’t need to rise because it’s already there, coiled beneath my skin, hot and pulsing. Just waiting for a chance. I crack my neck from side to side, as a sense of control and assured confidence settles on my shoulders.
I hesitate for just a heartbeat, just long enough for a flicker of fear to lick at me.
There is a faint recognition that it feels different from even moments ago. Like in the time between using the Command and now, it sharpened its teeth while I wasn’t looking.
"Evacuate. Now." I bellow at the crowd before me.
They respond instantly.
Dozens of heads snap in my direction, eyes dilating, breath catching. And then they move. All of them. In unison. A tidal wave of civilians surging toward the designated route out. They don’t even flinch as some drop dead from the spray of bullets hounding their retreat.
“Faster!” I shout, urging them out of range.
The crowd breaks into a sprint.
It worked on so many minds. Effortlessly.
Such a power is immense.
I don’t control a handful like an Alpha. I control hundreds. Maybe thousands. And they obey without blinking, without pausing to question why their bodies are already moving.
Superiority thrums through me, and I bask in the heady rush of power.
It’s just so easy.
I could make anyone do anything I want.
As expected, the payment comes fast and is steep.
The pain hits like a serrated blade, carving something essential out of me, but I don’t flinch. I don’t scream.
I welcome it.
Because if this is the price for never again being vulnerable, weak, defective… then rip me open. Let it hollow me out.
I stand tall.
Whatever General Stone thought I was, I’m better.
I watch the civilians flee and turn to face the incoming army.
Another flicker of fear tries to shove its way to the forefront.
I should retreat. Follow the others away from danger.
The voice whispers louder, drowning out my doubts.
I don't need to flee.
I'm more powerful than anyone!
My blood is singing with the craving for more.
The need to make the enemy kneel.
I could have the whole Human army screaming my name, worshiping me on their knees, and begging for mercy.
I want to own them.
I want—
Crack.
Pain rips through my leg.
I look down at my thigh and whimper. A red bloom of blood rapidly soaks my trousers.
“Oh.”
I’ve been shot.