Page 39 of Omega on Fire

“I had a record. An address. I’d registered my designation, lived within a safe city, my travel patterns for advocacy events. I did everything I was supposed to.” Her gaze is volcanic, restrained only by sheer will. “And it didn’t stop them from dragging me into an alley and stuffing me into a fucking van.”

She pauses. I wait, holding my breath anticipating what she will say next.

“I was on every list. And none of that shit saved me.”

Silence settles like ash. I don’t move. I don’t dare interrupt.

“This law isn’t about safety. It’s about obedience. About control. It’s the leash they’ve been waiting for.” She takes a breath, then another, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter—but harder. “They want to register us like livestock. Like weapons. They want us tagged and tracked so that when they take us again, because they will, no one will even flinch.”

She turns her gaze to the television, where the senator’s smug expression is frozen mid-applause.

“I hope he chokes on his own fucking legislation.”

The screen flickers in the dim light, but I don’tlook away from her. Because right here, right now, she’s not just angry. She’s not just afraid. She’s becoming something else entirely.

Fire. Wrath. Revolution. God help Blaine when she finally erupts.

I round my desk and approach Charlotte slowly, careful not to crowd her. Her anger is justified, righteous—but beneath it, I sense something fragile. Something raw. The Alpha in me wants to soothe, to fix, to destroy whatever threatens what's mine. But she's not mine. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"He hasn't won," I say, keeping my voice level despite the rage churning in my gut. "The senator hasn't gotten what he wants just yet. Those laws still have to go through another round of votes, committee reviews, public hearings."

Charlotte's eyes flash with skepticism. The honey-cinnamon of her scent turns sharper, almost burnt.

"And you think that matters?" She gestures toward the screen. "Look at that applause. Listen to how they frame it. Protection. Security. They're already selling it, and people are buying."

"We're going to expose him before he gets the chance." I take another step closer, close enough now to feel the heat radiating from her skin. "That's a promise."

Her laugh lacks humor, a brittle sound that scrapes against my eardrums. "A promise." She shakes her head, shoulders slumping slightly. "I want to believe you, Teagan. I do. But everything I've fought for feels. . ." She searches for the word. "Moot," she finally says, voice barely above a whisper. "Every testimony. Every hand I've held. Every hug. Every goddamn promise that I would fight to make it better, not just for me but for all of us." Her eyes glisten, but her spine remains straight, defiant. "Yet they took me. Abused me."

Something in the air shifts. Her scent becomes muted, almost ashen. She hesitates, swallows hard, and I see the effort it takes for her to meet my eyes again.

"They raped me." The words hang between us, heavy and terrible. "I don't care if they forced my heat. It was rape." Her voice cracks, but she pushes through. "How do I push past that, Teagan? How do I swallow it down and keep going when I'm a shaky house of cards myself?"

My Alpha instincts have me ready to go to war, I try to bite back a snarl, a primal sound that rumbles from deep in my chest before I can stop it. My vision edges with red, pure unadulterated rage. I will have their names, their locations, and I will hunt everysingle person who touched her and tear them apart with my bare hands.

But that's not what she needs right now.

Fuck giving her space. Fuck being cautious. This woman standing before me, broken but somehow still standing, doesn't need my distance. She needs to know she's not alone.

I close the gap between us and wrap my arms around her. She tenses for a heartbeat before her body melts against mine, her face pressing into my chest. I breathe her in, that intoxicating scent now layered with grief and exhaustion. The instinct to protect her slams into me like a physical force, not because she's weak, but because she's fought too long alone.

"You haven't lost your strength," I murmur against her hair, one hand cradling the back of her head. "Your will to fight, to keep going, to keep waking up every fucking day despite what they did. . .that's exactly why we're going to put a stop to all of this."

I feel her trembling, feel the dampness spreading across my shirt where her tears land. Her fingers dig into my sides, gripping me like I'm the only thing keeping her from drowning.

"I'm scared," she confesses, words muffled against my chest. "Not just for me. For all of them. TheOmegas who don't have a Hudson Pack to rescue them."

My arms tighten around her. "I know. But you're not alone in this fight anymore. We won't let them win."

And in that moment, holding her against me, breathing in her scent, feeling her heartbeat against mine—I make another silent promise. Not just to expose Blaine. Not just to dismantle his legislation. But to destroy anyone who ever hurt her.

I hold her against me for what feels like too short a time, savoring the honey and cinnamon scent that's finally not laced with fear and anger. My chest rumbles as the purr escapes me, soothing her, my instincts taking over with the sense of rightness of having her in my arms. But I know better than to think this solves anything. Comfort is temporary. Protection, real protection, takes strategy and patience.

When she pulls away I expect her to wipe her tears, to step back and rebuild her walls. Instead, she squares her shoulders and looks up at me with an intensity that catches me off guard.

"We?" Her voice is steady now, that momentary vulnerability tucked away. "You seem to be avoidingme, Trigger. I've trained with everyone, but you. Not even a one-on-one exchange. Why?"

Fuck.

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