Page 1 of Dance Omega Dance

Chapter One

Today marked the anniversary.

It had been three years since my world was torn to pieces. Three years of silence, shadows, and solitude. Of running, hiding, and surviving. I wasn’t just mourning my parents; I was mourning who I used to be. The girl who laughed in the sunshine, who picnicked in the park without looking over her shoulder, who rode her bike past the canal with wind in her hair and freedom in her lungs. That girl was gone.

Now in her place stood something forged from ash and agony. Something feral. Something still learning how to breathe without flinching. However, when I danced... I could almost remember who I used to be.

Ballet was my salvation, the only sanctuary my body hadn’t betrayed. It repelled the negativity and brought the sunlight back into my world. In the studio beneath my tiny apartment, I let it consume me. Every plié, every pointed toe, every breath pulled from my lungs was a silent scream to keep the pain at bay. It didn’t erase the past, but it gave it shape, made it bearable.

I took a deep breath, taking a drink of water before stretching out and continuing with the piece I had been working on.

Today’s routine was different. Darker. A haunting echo ofthatnight: my parents, the blood, the scent of alpha rage and violence so thick in the air you could almost choke on it. My movements mirrored the memory: sharp, brutal, deliberate. The choreography bled truth. Some might have said it was how my grief spoke through me. I pursed my lips. I guessed so.

Stretching my leg on the barre, my muscles ached with a familiar fire. The cracked mirror reflected a girl with sunken eyes and steel in her spine. Not prey. Not anymore. My toes scraped the battered floor, wood groaning beneath every step, like it too, remembered what I’d lost.

My limbs flowed through the positions by muscle memory alone, following the dark choreography of my former life.

First position. A whisper of innocence, of a time when I’d thought the world was safe.

Second. Arms out, a reaching plea that would never be answered.

Arabesque. I faltered... just for a moment. The scent of blood, thick and metallic returned. Screams echoed in my head, as sharp as razor blades. My mother’s voice, still etched into my bones:Run, honey. Run and live.

I held the pose, trembling. My body remembered what my heart wanted to forget, but I gritted my teeth and held the pose. I couldn't let the past break me, not again.

Pouring myself into the next sequence, I allowed my emotions to flow free. Rage. Sorrow. The bone-deep ache of being an unclaimed omega in a world that wanted to own me. I danced until my lungs burned, until sweat slicked down my spine, until I wasn’t sure where the pain ended and the movement began.

Dancing like this, raw and unbridled, I could almost forget the ever-present fear that dogged my steps. In this little studio with its peeling walls and scarred floor, I wasn't the cowering omega; the prey fleeing the relentless hunters. I was passion incarnate, my limbs painting the story of my resilience with every twist and leap.

But even as I lost myself in the choreography, reality crept in at the edges. The dingy mirror, the tattered curtains, the lock on the door. All reminders of the meager existence I'd carved outin this middle-of-nowhere city. Safety had its price, and most days, the solitude felt like a small one to pay. Still, there were moments in the breathless space between routines when I ached for something more. To dance for more than an audience of one. To feel the heat of the stage lights, the swell of the music, the soaring freedom of performance.

And then the silence shattered.

The buzz of my phone cracked through the stillness like a gunshot. I froze, poised on the balls of my feet. Every muscle coiled, as my instincts flared. My gaze snapped to the phone. Hands trembling, I swiped the screen.

The text was from Maddie, a beta who had become the closest thing I had to a friend in this strange, solitary half-life.

“Summer, you’ve been invited to perform at the Royal Theater in Shaker City. This is your dream. Don’t miss it!”

My heart stuttered, and my knees buckled.

Shaker City. Crowds. Lights. Alphas.

Exposure.

Danger.

I stared at my reflection, at the fragile hope that gleamed in my eyes, the way my chest rose and fell like I might finally be breathing. This was what I wanted. What I’dalwayswanted. But I couldn’t forget what happened the last time I stepped into the spotlight. The last time I was seen.

Blood. Screams. My mother’s body crumpling to the floor, my father’s roar echoing through the night as he fought off the ferals who came to take me. Toclaimme.

I should delete the message. Pretend I never saw it.

But something inside me rebelled. A spark. Asnarl.

My gaze drifted back to the text message. This was my chance, maybe my last one, to reclaim a piece of the life that had been ripped away from me. To dance, really dance, the way I was meant to.

But was it worth the danger? Worth risking everything I'd sacrificed so much to protect? I looked down at Maddie's message again, my finger hovering over the reply button. I knew what I should do, what any sane omega in my position would do.

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