Page 62 of Omega on Fire

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and take adeep breath. The frankincense of my scent mixes with the others in the confined space—leather, whiskey, rain—creating the familiar mélange that normally brings me comfort. But not today. Not when our Omega reeks of fear and exhaustion.

"Blaine orchestrated this whole thing," I say, my voice low and controlled despite the rage simmering beneath. "He knew exactly what he was doing, parading you in there like some kind of trophy."

Charlotte raises her eyes to mine, and the depth of pain I see there makes me want to howl.

"He's setting the narrative. Making it look like I'm supporting him." She laughs, a broken sound that slices through me. "The great Charlotte Matthews, Omega Rights Activist, now backing Alpha supremacy after her 'ordeal'."

"We'll counter it," Joker says, already typing furiously on his tablet. "I can have a statement ready within the hour, get it to friendly outlets."

Teagan shakes his head. "No statements yet. We need to regroup, figure out exactly what game Blaine is playing."

I watch Charlotte as my brothers discuss strategy. There's something about the way she's holding herself—too still, too contained—that worries me more than her earlier distress. This is the calm before the storm,and I've seen enough battles to recognize when someone is preparing to fight.

When her eyes meet mine again, I see it—resolve hardening like steel being tempered in fire.

"I need to speak," she says quietly, cutting through the conversation. "Not today, but soon. They're trying to use me as a weapon against my own people." Her hands clench in her lap. "I won't let them."

I reach across the space between us, covering her fist with my palm. Her skin is cool under mine, and I wish I could transfer my warmth, my strength, directly into her being.

"And we'll be right beside you when you do," I promise, letting my scent envelop her in silent comfort. "Every step of the way."

For the first time since we rescued her, I see a genuine smile touch her lips. It's small, barely there, but it lights something in me that's been cold since the day I left my family and set out on my own so many years ago.

"Thank you, Moses," she whispers, turning her hand to grip mine.

As the car speeds away from the museum and its circling vultures, I hold on to that small victory and prepare for the war that's coming. Because make no mistake—this is war.

I stare at Charlotte's face, searching for any sign that she's trying to push her feelings down, to hide her distress behind a brave facade. But all I see is genuine determination. It's inspiring, the way she bears the weight of so much responsibility and still stands tall.

The limo glides through the city, leaving the chaos behind. Tension hangs thick in the air, everyone lost in their own thoughts about what just happened. I watch Charlotte's chest rise and fall with each breath, the rhythm steadying as she processes everything.

"Well," she suddenly breaks the silence, her voice lighter than I expected. "Since we're already out and about, surrounded by the paparazzi and causing a scandal. . ." Her lips twitch, a hint of mischief replacing the earlier despair in her eyes.

I raise an eyebrow, unsure where she's going with this.

"I'm thinking, what's a little more trouble?" She shrugs, her honey-cinnamon scent warming, the bitter notes receding. "I mean, I'm already flanked by four walking wet dreams. Seems a shame to waste a perfectly good night by going straight home to mope."

Beaux barks out a laugh, the sound filling the car. "Did you just call us wet dreams, Harley? Because I might need that in writing."

"I need distraction," she continues, ignoring him but with a small smile playing on her lips. "And maybe some pizza. I think you can show me a good time before we face whatever tomorrow brings."

My chest tightens at her words. The need to give her whatever she wants—whether it's protection or pizza—claws at me. I've always been the serious one, the one who overthinks everything, but right now, all I want is to see her smile reach her eyes.

I glance at Teagan, who meets my gaze with a barely perceptible shrug, a silent "why not?" The tension in his shoulders has eased slightly. Joker's already set his tablet aside, his scent brightening with anticipation.

If it's a good time our Omega wants then we will give it to her.

"What kind of pizza are we talking about here?" I ask, letting a rare smile spread across my face. "Because if you say pineapple, I might have to reconsider this whole arrangement."

Charlotte laughs, bright and unguarded, the sound loosening something tight in all of us. "No pineapple, I promise. Though I'm partial to extra cheese and pepperoni—simple classics."

"A woman after my own heart," Beaux says,pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. "And here I thought we couldn't be more compatible."

"I know a place," Joker chimes in, already pulling out his phone. "Best pizza in the city, and they've got a private back room. No cameras, no questions."

Teagan nods, leaning forward to tap on the partition. Once the driver slides it open, he gives new directions, his voice carrying the easy authority that's always defined him. As the car changes course, I feel the atmosphere shift—still alert, still protective, but with an undercurrent of something lighter. Something we've all been missing.

"So, this good time," I say, my voice low as I lean closer to Charlotte. The frankincense of my scent mingles with hers, creating something warm and complex. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

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