Page 15 of Omega's Fire

Something cold slides down my spine at the euphemism. “I want minimal force used,” I say, the words emerging more intensely than intended.

The director laughs suddenly, her eyes crinkling. “Of course. You’re being a perfectly protective alpha already, Nash. I promise we’ll be careful with him.”

We shake hands and I head home to pack. Back at the apartment, I take my time getting everything together.

I have lived alone in this same apartment ever since I took up my first teaching position at the university. I considered moving when I took up my job at the Bureau but I’ve been comfortable here. It’s always been perfect for me. Now I’m wondering if it is perfect for both of us.

I’m going to leave this apartment as a bachelor and come back to it as a married man. My life is about to fundamentally change. I pack up two week’s worth of clothing as well as some books that I think Leo will like and grab the best wine from my wine rack.

It’s a two hour drive out to North Lake. I stop only at the market to grab groceries. The Bureau will have ensured that the cottage is fully stocked but I am an excellent cook. I’d like Leo to see that I can look after him in more ways than one.

By late afternoon, I’m standing on the wide porch of the cottage, taking in the pristine view of water stretching toward distant mountains.

Inside, the space has an open living area with comfortable seating, state-of-the-art kitchen, and automated lighting and heating systems. A wall of windows faces the lake, framing the view.

The bedroom stops me short. It is dominated by a single king-sized bed positioned to face the lake view. One bed. Deliberate.Unavoidable. Presumptive. Perfect.

I unpack my clothing and pack it away in the dresser, leaving space on the left of each drawer for Leo’s things. Then, I return to the main room, unpacking the books I’ve brought and setting the groceries away in the kitchen.

The television remote sits on the coffee table. I hesitate, then pick it up, switching on the screen. It automatically tunes to a news channel, and there he is again, Leo, now being interviewed by a serious-looking beta journalist. The segment is titled “Leo Torres vs. Omega Match Bureau”

“This is about more than one match,” Leo is telling the interviewer, his hands animated as he speaks. “This affects thousands of omegas every year.”

“But what about the science?” the interviewer asks.

“It doesn’t matter,” Leo counters immediately. “It still doesn’t justify forced bonding.”

I sink onto the couch, my chest heavy as I watch him. He believes every word with such conviction. He has built his entire identity around fighting this system. He has no idea what’s coming for him.

The interview continues, with Leo masterfully answering increasingly challenging questions. He’s brilliant, articulate and passionate. My heart swells. I watch him until the interview ends and then I switch channels, hoping for me but find nothing.

I turn off the TV and silence rushes back in, but my mind is full of Leo.

I want to make this easier for him somehow. I want to soften the blow of what’s happening. I want to create conditions where he might, eventually, choose to stay rather than feel forced to submit.

Leo will hate this at first. I know that. I’m not a fool. He is going to hate me for being part of it. The knowledge sits like a weight in my chest. I know the hate will be temporary but Ihate that we are going to have to go through it. I suppose it is unavoidable.

I prepare tea and move to the large window overlooking the lake. My fingers trace the rim of my teacup as I imagine Leo seeing this view. I think he will appreciate the beauty of it.

I inhale deeply, anticipation coursing through me. My body hums with an energy I can barely contain. Even Leo’s hatred is preferable to his absence. Even his defiance feels like connection.

My reflection stares back at me from the window glass, superimposed over the sunset landscape. I barely recognize my own expression: the intensity burning in my eyes, anticipation evident in the set of my jaw.

I’ve never wanted anything—anyone—the way I want Leo Torres.

Leo

The battering ram takes my door off its hinges at around five AM. I’m dreaming—something about my sister —when the crash jolts me upright. Before I can fully process what’s happening, men in black tactical gear swarm the office, weapons drawn. The floor is cold beneath my feet as I scramble up from my mattress, wearing nothing but my boxers.

“Leo Torres?” A tall officer steps forward, voice muffled by his helmet’s visor.

My heart hammers against my ribs. “What the fuck is this?”

“By order of the Omega Match Bureau, you’re being remanded to mandatory cohabitation under Regulation 47.B-3.” The officer recites the words mechanically, like he’s done this dozens of times. “You have the right to bring personal items, but all communication devices will be confiscated. Please get dressed.”

I stare at them in disbelief. Three armed officers. For an uncooperative omega. Like I’m a violent criminal instead of a law student who skipped a bonding ceremony.

“This is illegal,” I snarl, backing up until I hit the wall. “You can’t—”

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