Page 78 of Omega on Fire

"What happened?" I ask, my voice a broken whisper.

Charlotte's hand tightens around mine. "You've been out for almost two days. I've been worried sick." She dodges my question, which tells me everything I need to know. Whatever happened in that warehouse—it was bad. Really bad.

"How bad is it?" I gesture vaguely at my face. As a model, my face is my livelihood. My ticket out of the gutter where society thinks Omegas like me belong. Male Omegas are rare, but in a family like mine, I was basically considered trash.

Charlotte's expression softens. "Nothing that can'tbe fixed. You'll still be the prettiest bitch at fashion week."

I try to laugh again but end up coughing, pain radiates through my chest. Definitely some broken ribs.

"Blaine," I manage to say when the coughing subsides. "It was Senator Blaine."

Charlotte's expression hardens, that fighting spirit I know so well flares in her eyes. "I know."

"He said—" I swallow, wincing at the rawness of my throat. "He said I was just cannon fodder. That all of us 'big-mouthed Omegas' would get what's coming to us. You especially."

Her jaw clenches. "Let him try."

I remember the coldness in Blaine's eyes as he watched his men beat me. The complete lack of humanity. "He will, Char. This wasn't random. This was a message."

"A message I received loud and clear." She leans forward, voice dropping lower. "But he's underestimated who he's dealing with. Always has."

I squeeze her hand. "We need to be careful. He knew about the photo shoot. He knew I'd be there filling in last minute. He has people everywhere."

Charlotte's eyes gleam with a determination that's always drawn me to her—from the moment she foundme in the streets of Houston, half-starved and abandoned by my family who deemed me worthless when I presented as an Omega instead of the Alpha they'd predicted.

"Let him have his spies," she says, a dangerous edge to her voice that I've only heard a few times before. "I've got something better."

"What's that?"

A small, predatory smile curls her lips. "The truth." She squeezes my hand. "Rest now, Brookie. You're safe."

As I drift back toward unconsciousness, I hold onto that promise. I'm safe. For now. But Senator Blaine's words echo in my mind, a dark promise of his own.

Sooner rather than later.

The game has changed, and despite Charlotte's confidence, I can't shake the feeling that we're outmatched. But we survived. Both of us. Against the odds.

And sometimes, survival is the most powerful defiance of all.

I come to again to the low rumble of voices. The warm cadence of conversation that feels both foreign and oddly comforting in my current state. My eyelids still feel like they're weighted down with concrete, but I manage to pry them open.

Charlotte's still beside me, her fingers flying over a laptop keyboard, but we're no longer alone. My blurry vision gradually sharpens, revealing four imposing figures stationed around the room like sentinels.

The air feels thick with their presence—Alpha and Beta pheromones mingling in a potent cocktail that would normally set my Omega instincts on high alert. But strangely, I don't feel threatened. Just overwhelmed.

"Char—" The word scratches out of my throat like sandpaper.

Charlotte's head snaps up, and she immediately sets the laptop aside. "You're awake again."

"I told you if you are all in here together it would be too much." Charlotte tsks at the men, though there's no real heat behind her words.

One of the men—holy fuck he's massive, with beautiful dark skin and arms covered in tattoos—scoffs. "Brookie has to meet your pack, Harley. He's family now."

My brain short-circuits. Pack? Did he just say pack?

"Pack?" I croak, looking at Charlotte with what must be comically wide eyes. Well, as wide as my swollen eyes can open.

Charlotte fumbles with her words, something I've rarely seen her do, then looks up at the men with a smile that transforms her entire face before turning back to me. "Yeah, Brookie. My pack. This is Teagan, Moses, Josiah, and he who is not to be named." She sticks out her tongue playfully at the large man, whose response is a rumbling growl that ripples through the room.

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