Page 8 of Knot Their Arrangement

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.

3

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