Page 36 of Omega's Fire

“We need to address the press,” Director Rowe continues, breaking into my thoughts. “Present a united front. We can spin this to show that we were right all along.”

She moves back to her desk, pressing the intercom. “Tell the communications team that we’ll be ready in ten minutes.” She turns back to me. “I’ve taken the liberty of having a statement drawn up.”

The director opens her desk drawer, retrieves a piece of paper and pushes it across her desk. I take it, and finally sit down. The restlessness in my legs has turned to heaviness. I am suddenly exhausted.

The statement isn’t terrible. In fact, it’s brilliant. We’ve been saying for years that omegas always have a choice, that it’s not about force. What better way to prove that than to have Nash Thorndike graciously accept the rejection of a prime match?

The door opens before I can comment on her words admitting a small team of Bureau communications staff and a camera crew. They begin setting up equipment, pointing thecamera and boom my way.

“Dr. Thorndike will be giving a statement clarifying the Bureau’s position on matching and individual choice,” Director Rowe informs them. “We’ll go live as soon as Dr Thorndike has memorised the statement.”

“I haven’t agreed to this yet,” I say quietly, for her ears alone.

She meets my eyes, her gaze steady and certain. “Are you going to disagree?”

“No. I’ll do it.” I don’t have a choice. How ironic.

I read the statement again and again until I have the words drilled into my head and I give them the go ahead.

The camera crew counts down with their fingers. Three, two, one. The communications director gives me a thumbs up. Rowe nods from behind the camera crew.

The red light blinks on. I straighten my shoulders, adjust my tie, and paste on my most convincing smile.

“Good morning. I’m Dr. Nash Thorndike.” My voice comes out steady despite the storm inside me. “I want to clear up some confusion about recent events involving the Bureau’s matching program.”

I take a breath, reciting the carefully scripted lines.

“The Bureau has always maintained that compatibility is a scientific reality, but we recognize each situation is unique. Mr. Torres’s decision demonstrates the flexibility built into our system. We never force bonding. We only ask for proximity and opportunity so that everyone has the chance to find their one perfect mate.”

A drop of sweat trickles down my spine beneath the expensive suit as I continue.

“Studies show that prime matches result in successful, lasting bonds. One failed case doesn’t invalidate thousands of happy pairs.” I smile at the camera as if this is going exactly the way I want it to. “The Bureau respects individual choice. We simplyprovide the data. What individuals do with it ultimately remains their decision. I am grateful to Mr Torres for giving the match a chance. We spent almost two weeks together testing the bonds. Ultimately, Mr Torres has decided not to continue with the bonding. I respect that choice. It was always his to refuse or accept.”

Leo’s face flashes in my mind. His fierce eyes. The curl of his lip when he’d spit out my arguments back at me.

My fingers tighten imperceptibly on the paper still held in my hand. “The Bureau respects Mr. Torres’s decision. We wish him well, as do I.”

The red light blinks off. Director Rowe nods, satisfied. “Well done, Nash.”

I nod mechanically, suddenly desperate to escape the stifling office.

“We’ll need to discuss your research schedule going forward,” Director Rowe adds as I turn to leave.

“No,” I reply, the words hollow.

“Excuse me?”

“No,” I say. “I’m going home.”

“Perhaps a leave of absence might be sensible.”

“Sure,” I say. I feel completely hollow. I can’t face her. I can’t face this place at all. I turn back to her and breathe deeply. “Actually, I quit. I can’t do this. I’ve read your statement. You can’t ask me to do any more.”

It’s no great surprise when she just purses her lips and says, “Accepted.”

She lets me go with a frown, already turning her attention to the communications team, to the next stage of damage control.

I make it to my car, waving politely to the journalists outside but ignoring their questions. I start my car, drive home and it’s only when I’m inside in my own home with my face buried in Leo’s shirt that I finally let myself fall apart.

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