Chapter Thirty-Five #2
Shade and I sit side-by-side in the mess hall. It’s after lunch, and mostly empty. There is a group of haggard-looking soldiers wolfing down bowls of hot stew in the far corner. They’re quiet and their uniforms covered in mysterious stains, obviously recently back from a brutal deployment.
He slides his trusty tablet in front of me and pulls up a dashboard of graphs and numbers.
It’s the data he’s collected over the course of my training.
Timestamps of my biometric readings that include heart rate spikes, oxygen saturation, scent markers, and pupil dilation.
It’s a lot more involved than I thought it was.
All this time, I assumed he was simply recording how many push-ups I could do.
There is a weird warmth of pleasure knowing he’s been so fixated on me, and that he knows my body on such an intimate level.
No wonder he’s so good at giving me pleasure.
“Wait, how do you have this? I don’t remember you checking my pulse so often…”
His eyes flick to my bite collar.
I touch it with raised brows. “Seriously? This thing has, what? A tracker?”
“No, nothing like that… although when you left I wished it did. It just transmits rudimentary biometric information. Why do you think Knox was so adamant you keep it on at all times?”
“Uh, ‘cause he’s a raging control freak?”
“Well, yes.”
“And ‘cause you were all worried the little Omega would send the Alphas into some kind of bite crazed frenzy?”
“Uh, yeah, that too. But only at the beginning, I swear.”
He distracts me by pointing out a consistent pattern. Every time I enter O-space, I’m coming off a trigger. Fear, arousal, rage, exhaustion.
“Yeah, we know that already. That’s why you lot keep making me do jumping jacks and throwing me around the sparring mat.”
There are extensive notes typed underneath each of the data points that outline the triggers. Shade’s notes include endless logic loops as he tries to determine what external factors contribute to my submissive or dominant state.
“We have to find a better way of summoning your O-space. The enemy won’t wait for us to get you the right level of stressed to use your Omega Command, and it has to be a different trigger to what sends you submissive.
I love it when you’re my sweet girl, but we can’t risk you falling to the wrong side of O-space in the middle of a battle. ”
I nod.
He’s right. There has to be a fast and fool-proof way to use my Omega Command. One where I’m in control from the beginning, and not the insidious power. General Stone was right, immediate life-threatening danger awoke it, but I wasn’t prepared and quickly lost control.
We talk about the way certain stimuli make me feel, using the data to steer us towards a solution.
It’s clear that arousal almost always sends my O-space into my submissive side. Mental and emotional exhaustion also fuel my need for comfort and security.
Shade smirks a little to himself, and mutters something that suspiciously sounds like, “Needy girl.”
However, other than life-threatening situations, it’s anger and frustration that are almost a sure-fire Command trigger.
“If we rule out Knox being a complete dickhead to you, what gets you angry Halley?”
I take my time, sifting through the thoughts that make my chest tighten.
“I dunno… I try not to think about those things.”
Shade doesn’t rush me, just sits beside me as a steady support.
“I guess, I get frustrated when I think about how Omegas are treated.”
He hums and nods. “And if you were to think about that now, do you think that alone would be enough to summon O-space?”
“I’m not sure. It… it might,” I shrug.
“Alright, let’s get to the training room and find out what really drives your Command.”
“C’mon, baby girl. What makes you angry?” Shade goads from the sidelines.
I’m on the sparring mat again, and for the first time in a week, the whole Pack is here.
Even Knox.
He’s been on “guard duty” more times than not. Liar, liar, pants-on-fire.
I’ve been at this for an hour, trying to get myself worked up enough to tip into O-space without external interference.
Blaze and Viper are tossing knives between them from boredom.
“I don’t know,” I mumble. Truthfully, I’m not sure how to get angry on purpose.
I squeeze my eyes tight and try to focus.
Anger.
It’s an emotion I’ve spent years choking down. Swallowing it whole. Anger is useless. That’s what I told myself. What is the point of being mad at a world that would never change?
But the truth is, I’ve been angry since the day I was born.
The second I opened my purple eyes, the world decided who I was. An Omega. Destined to be an object. A thing. My future was never mine. It belongs to anyone stronger, louder, or crueler.
My family made that clear.
The Omega Division promised freedom, but it was just another cage. General Stone didn’t save us from the goodness of his heart. He wanted us in a holding cell, waiting for his experiment to begin.
Every path I’ve taken has been someone else’s design. And every one of them ends the same.
Even if I weren’t infertile and my father had reported my designation like he should’ve, I’d be on my back, spitting out babies for some Alpha drunk on power.
Omega.
Always at the bottom. Always meant to be owned.
But thanks to Shade's research, I know it wasn’t always like this. Omegas were once the crowning glory of Packs. Our power, and rightful place, was stolen from us.
And that makes me angry.
It makes me fracking furious.
My hands tremble, and my nostrils flare as I indulge in being mad without restraint. I don’t have to reel it back in or be ashamed of it. Not like every time I’ve lost my cool around Knox. When the careful shields would shatter and pressurized molten rage would erupt from me.
This time, I feel it coming. Pulling over my vision like a veil, and instead of stuffing in back down, I lean into it, chasing the sensation.
“Good Halley, keep going,” Shade encourages.
The O-space folds in around me… but it’s wrong. There’s no shimmer, no soft hum at the edge of my senses. It doesn’t settle like a blanket dulling the world, suppressing whatever pain or fear I’m hiding from.
It crackles.
Sharp, electric, alive.
I stumble back, breath catching hard in my chest.
No.
I know this feeling. I know it too well.
It haunts my dreams, curled around the edges of every nightmare.
I’m back in Rheamont with that twisted seduction. That sick toxic compulsion that twines around my mind and tries to seize control. It wants to sink its teeth in and never let go.
It whispers to me now, slick and persuasive.
Give me control, and I’ll make them bow.
I’ll burn the world that caged you.
Oh… Oh, frack.
It hits me all at once.
The Command isn’t something separate from me. It’s not a parasite or a curse. It’s mine.
It’s me.
A raw, unfiltered expression of what’s been buried for too long. My rage. My burning need to prove that I’m capable of being more than what I’ve been allowed to be.
The power isn’t evil.
It’s not some invasive thing that took root in me without permission.
It’s the truth of who I am.
And who I am is… angry.
Hungry for more.
To be what my Omega ancestors once were.
That’s what fuels it.
“I can’t,” I gasp, barely able to get the words past the fire in my throat. My voice scrapes raw, ragged, torn from somewhere deep and trembling. “It’s too much. I— I can’t control it. I’ll hurt someone.”
My hands shake violently, fingers curling like they’re trying to hold something back. Something vast and dangerous and mine. Panic presses in, clawing at the edges of my mind.
How long has it been there, this raw part of me?
How long have I carried it?
I think of Knox. Of the times he’d push, and push, and I’d snap. How I’d lash out with a rage and violence I never understood, not really.
The answer is forever.
It’s always been there. The anger. Watching, waiting for me to be strong enough to hold it.
Why does it think I’m strong enough now?
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I whisper again, even though my voice is already lost under the roar in my blood. The fury is rising, thick and suffocating, like I’ve stepped into a current too strong to fight. It’ll pull me under. Drown me in it. And I don’t know if I’ll come back.
Knox steps forward, and I flinch.
He doesn’t touch me. Doesn’t speak right away. Just stands there with his arms crossed and his eyes, oh rut, his gorgeous red eyes locked on mine with that calculating look he gets when he’s coming up with a strategy.
He studies me carefully, and finally, just when I think I’m going to splinter apart, he speaks.
“It’s alright to be angry, Halley.”
It’s permission.
And somehow, for whatever reason, it’s enough to thaw the paralyzing fear holding me back.
It shouldn’t matter. His opinion shouldn’t carry this much weight.
But it does.
It’s ancient. Primal. My Prime Alpha has given me his support, and something inside me has stopped bracing for punishment. It’s stopped holding me back.
His belief in me fills a space I didn’t realize was hollow. Like he’s placed something steady at the center of all my trembling.
Familiar hands appear, pressing on my sweat-slicked skin, holding me.
My Pack.
They’re here. Supporting me when I need them most.
This is why the power has unlocked. I’m strong enough because I have them.
It’s okay to let the rage out, because when I do, they’ll be there to pull me back home.
“Try again,” Knox says.
So I do.
The O-space answers. It obscures my vision with fractured lightning streaking through my eyes, sparks kicking wildly. I don’t fight it, but neither do I naively get swept up in it like in Rheamont. I know what it is. I know what it wants.
I step into it, rooted this time. Aware. The Command doesn’t come, not yet, but something shifts.
The blockage is gone. There’s a flowing river of energy within me now, where before there was a barricade of dread.
I can feel it, deep in my chest, like something loosening. Stretching. All I have to do is keep showing up. Keep choosing to face it head-on, not to run or hide from it.
And I will.
Because now I’m not alone.
Blaze sprints toward me on cue, eyes fierce, body committed.
I stand my ground.
“On your knees, Sergeant Blaze,” I Command.
The words ripple out of me, measured and firm, just like Viper taught me.
I mean every syllable. The intention behind my Command is crystal clear in my mind’s eye. There is no doubt of what I want and when. No room for twisting or corruption.
Blaze stops mid-step and slams down to his knees.
There’s no rush of nausea, no ringing in my ears, no crushing wave of pain behind my eyes. My body holds steady, rooted to the mat. My mind remains clear and intact, not splintering or fracturing beneath the pressure.
I stay whole as the hum of electricity races through my body.
The anger that’s lived in my bones for years is still there, but it no longer thrashes and claws inside me. Now it crackles in a focused line, lightning and alive. All those years of frustration finally given form and direction.
Shade whistles low and quiet, the sound full of something between awe and amusement. My data-dork is almost creaming in his pants over the response time on that Command.
Blaze lifts his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “That’s so fuckin’ hot, Sparkles.”
I laugh, breathless and giddy. It rings through the training room like a battle cry.
I’ve never earned something like this before.
Never pushed myself so far past the edge, never fought through so many invisible walls.
This wasn’t like training with the squad before, where pain lived in my muscles and breath.
This was deeper. A battle fought in silence and shadows, against every voice that ever told me I was weak.
This was about unlearning everything I was taught to believe about myself.
Broken. Useless. Defective.
It’s almost laughable. By branding me defective and casting me aside, it set me on this path and gave me the key to this power.
But I won’t give anyone, other than my Pack, credit for it.
I carved this power out of my own skin, claimed it with grit and rage and sheer refusal to give up. And now, it listens to me. Because I made it mine.
I’m still an Omega. That part of me hasn’t changed. I still crave touch, still need the warmth of my Pack wrapped around me like armor. I’m not built for the violence of a battlefield, or for harsh words.
But I’m not prey anymore.
I’m a force.
It feels like history is shifting under my feet. Like a dark chapter in Demi-human history is closing. A hundred years of denying our true nature ending, and a brand new chapter is beginning. Or maybe it’s the same story being retold, time and time again.
Either way, I know fate has led me exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing exactly what I was born to do.
I know who I am now.
Halley Sparks is the Omega who’s going to save the mother-fracking Demi-human race.