Page 35 of Omega's Fire

I keep my face carefully neutral. “The ceremony proceeds as scheduled.”

“Nash—”

“As. Scheduled.” I brush past her, heading for the ceremonialsuite.

Part of me knows that this is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but what choice do I have?

Pure fucking stubbornness is the only way I’ve ever got anything done. I’m used to being argued with. I’m used to not having my own space in the world. Everything I’ve had I’ve fought for by sheer force of will. I don’t really know how else to do this.

I take my place at the head of the table. The minutes tick by with excruciating slowness. The clock on the wall seems to move in slow motion, Sun shifts uncomfortably as the appointed time comes and goes.

The room grows warmer, the weight of expectation heavier with each passing minute. Still, I maintain my composure.

At 11:25, I check my watch with deliberate casualness. It’s stupid. There’s a clock on the wall, but I do it anyway.

By 11:45, he’s still not here and the door opens. Director Rowe’s expression is carefully neutral. She’s holding a tablet.

“Mr. Torres’s press conference is being livestreamed,” she says quietly. “He says he has no intention of attending.”

I take the tablet, curiosity and desperation to see my omega overriding self-preservation. Leo’s face fills the screen, fierce and beautiful. He stands before a crowd, microphone in hand, every inch the revolutionary I first met in this same room.

“I’m here to tell you the Bureau is wrong,” he says, his voice clear despite the recording’s quality. “I walked away from a ninety-eight percent match. You can do it too.”

The crowd cheers, and something in my chest splinters. He’s so certain. So goddamn beautiful it physically hurts to look at him.

I hand the tablet back to Director Rowe, my decision crystallizing with sudden clarity.

“The ceremony is canceled,” I announce, rising from mychair.

Annoyance flickers across her features before she schools her expression back to neutral. “Let’s talk in my office.”

I follow her down the corridors of the Bureau, ignoring the subtle glances that follow me as I pass. Finally, we get to her office and she shuts the door behind us, locking them all out. She gestures for me to sit in one of the sleek chairs across from her desk, but I remain standing. I’m so restless that I feel almost itchy.

“I let this go ahead because your request had already hit the press” she says, her tone deceptively mild. “But it was not what we discussed in our crisis management meeting yesterday.”

“I didn’t attend any crisis management meeting yesterday.”

“Precisely.” She settles behind her desk, folding her hands. “You ignored my messages. This situation has become a PR nightmare. We need to control the narrative before it spirals further.”

I run my hands through my hair and grimace. She’s right. I want Leo and I don’t mind losing a little pride to get him, but this isn’t just my life’s work, it’s other peoples’ too. The Bureau is a force for good, I am certain of it, despite what Leo thinks. He is doing a lot of damage to something that makes a huge positive difference in the world.

“I’m worried about the Bureau,” she continues. “That the great work we do is going to be undermined by this. I’m worried about the thousands of successfully matched couples whose bonds could be called into question because of this... spectacle.”

She’s right, and I know it. One high-profile rejection shouldn’t negate everything we’ve done.

And yet. I don’t know what to say. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. The path ahead isn’t clear.

“Mr. Torres is just one omega,” Director Rowe continues, her voice softening slightly. “One who was, perhaps, poorly handledfrom the beginning. His situation is unique, not representative of the system as a whole.”

I turn to look out the window, unable to meet her eyes. “They brought him to me in handcuffs.”

“An unfortunate escalation,” she acknowledges. “But one that doesn’t invalidate the underlying science. You need to make a statement, Nash. I know how hard this is for you.” She sighs deeply. “I’ll acknowledge that we made mistakes too. We were too heavy-handed with Torres, but you need to think of the overall good.”

She’s offering me a way out.

“The system works, Nash,” Rowe says quietly. “Millions of matched pairs prove that every day. What’s happening with Mr. Torres is the exception, not the rule.”

“I know,” I say. Two words and I hate saying them.

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