Page 80 of Omega on Fire

CHARLOTTE

Taking a deep fortifying breath, I watch as the red light on the camera ignites, a silent signal that my face will be broadcast to millions across the world. My fingers still tremble slightly in my lap, but I curl them into fists, drawing strength from the four men surrounding me and Brookes’ unwavering presence at my side.

“My name is Charlotte Matthews,” I begin, my voice steadier than I expected. “I am an Omega. And I am not a survivor.”

The weight of those words settles over the room like a physical presence. Behind the camera, Josiah gives me the smallest of nods, and I feel Moses’ hands on my shoulders, anchoring me to this moment.

“Two months ago, I was abducted on my wayhome from work. I was dragged into an SUV by traffickers. Drugged. Caged. Raped. Tortured for weeks—sensory deprivation and starvation, mostly. They did everything they could to weaken me, to make me compliant for what came next. I was forced into a drug-induced heat and subjected to reproductive testing.”

The words taste like ash in my mouth, but I force them out anyway. The world needs to hear the ugly truth, not some sanitized version.

“I was taken because I was visible. Because I was loud. Because I challenged the idea that my designation made me weak.”

I see Beaux shift against the wall, his eyes darkening at the memory. His fists clench at his sides—my unhinged Alpha, always ready to fuck some shit up for me.

“Senator Justus Blaine thought he could silence me. That’s right. Senator Justus Blaine. He thought he could sell me like property. He thought he could make me disappear.” The corner of my mouth lifts in a defiant half-smile. “But he failed.”

My voice grows stronger with each sentence, fueled by the righteous anger I’ve carried since the day they pulled me from that cage.

“I survived. I was rescued. And now, I am here,speaking out—not just for myself, but for every Omega who never got the chance.”

I lean forward slightly, making sure my eyes connect directly with the camera lens.

“Senator Blaine isn’t just a corrupt man in a suit. He is the architect of a system that dehumanizes Omegas, that profits off our pain, that uses our biology as an excuse for violence, subjugation, and silence.”

I pause, turning my gaze briefly to Brookes. My best friend. My first family.

“He took my best friend, Brookes Daniels, and had him tortured because Brookes dared to speak in my name. Because he dared to love me like a brother. To support me.”

Brookens’s eyes shine with unshed tears, but he lifts his chin defiantly despite the yellowing bruises still marking his beautiful face. The blanket shifts slightly, revealing bandages on his wrists where they’d bound him so tightly the skin had split.

“He hurt Brookes to punish me. To send a message.” I feel my nostrils flare, heat building in my chest. “I heard that message loud and clear. This is my reply.”

I straighten my spine, feeling Moses’ grip tighten slightly on my shoulders—not restraining, butsupporting. Reminding me that I’m not alone in this fight anymore.

“You don’t get to hide anymore. You don’t get to talk about Omega protection while building cages. You don’t get to pass laws designed to enslave us while calling it care. You don’t get to profit from trafficking and call it order.”

I punctuate each sentence by tapping my finger against the desk before me.

“No. More.”

The room is so quiet I can hear the soft whirring of the camera. I close my eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath that carries the mingled scents of my protectors. When I open them again, my gaze is unwavering.

“I am not the only one. There are thousands of us. And every time one of us disappears, the world shrugs. Well, I’m done with an indifferent world shrugging.”

Teagan has stopped pacing, his hazel eyes fixed on me with an intensity that would be unnerving if I didn’t know the depth of his commitment to our cause.

“I’m done waiting for the right time, the right platform, the right man to speak for me. I am speaking now.”

My voice rises—not in desperation, but in certainty.

“And to the Omegas watching—the ones still in cages, locked away in homes where there’s no way out—know this: we will come for you. We will find you. We will not rest until every last one of you is brought home. If you want out, we will help you. There are organizations like the Have Faith Foundation you can reach out to.”

I feel my lip curl slightly, anger flashing hot in my chest.

“To the people who let this happen, who turn a blind eye for a paycheck or a promotion—your time is up.”

I pause, letting the silence stretch taut like a wire. When I speak again, my voice drops lower, my tone is a promise laced with warning.

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