Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

NOW PLAYING: KNOW my loneliness- Nevertel

“We’re free!” Bea exclaims, her arms thrown wide as she spins in a circle. Her parents walk behind us, laughing joyfully at their daughter. Today we graduated from Dillon Falls Omega Academy with degrees to help us pursue careers in the world instead of packing up like so many of the other omegas we’ve met along the way.

Thinking about the pack program sends a pang of regret through my heart. I can’t even consider trying to find a pack until my birth family, leaders in the anti-designation movement, are brought to justice for the grievous sins they commit behind closed doors.

If I mate into a pack and my birth father finds out, I won’t be the only one to face his punishment. He will destroy my mates with no hesitation. I will never be able to live with myself if a pack is ever hurt because of me. The risk isn’t worth even a small taste of happiness.

“Stop with the doom and gloom, Oms,” Bea chides while she wraps her arm around mine. “We’re celebrating, not worrying about the future.”

“She’s right, sweetheart,” Bea’s mother, Shelby, says softly, linking her arm around my free one as we walk to their car. She and her daughter could easily be mistaken for twins. Both blessed with dark, curly hair and beautiful golden bronze skin tones. “You both have a plan for what comes next. Everything else is out of your control for the time being. So enjoy your success. You deserve to be happy about all you’ve accomplished.”

“We’re proud of you, kid,” Forrest, Bea’s omega father, chimes in. “Both of you.”

He’s tall for an omega, like me and Bea. We are all closer to six feet than most of the other omegas we’ve met. He looks like an ’80s heartthrob–or so his mates say–with dark brown hair that is shaggy on top and falls to his forehead. I’m almost positive the dimples at the corner of his wide smile are the reason his mates liken him to their teenage movie crushes.

While Bea looks like Shelby’s twin, she gets her attitude from her father. Forrest is a whirlwind of energy and sass. When I’d first met the male omega several years ago, I hadn’t been sure how my instincts would handle having three omegas in one house.

Growing up I was taught people of our designation were volatile, emotional creatures with no control over themselves and a deeply territorial disposition. Meeting the Powells quickly proved that to be untrue. Forrest and Bea both welcomed me into their house and hearts without question. I was the second daughter they were never able to have.

Their pack helped ease my transition into pack life. They showered me with kindness and love, compassion the depths of which I had never experienced. I will always be grateful for being placed with them after the DAU–Designation Activist Underground–helped me escape my birth family.

“Thank you,” I mumble. My cheeks warm beneath their praise. I still sometimes struggle to accept their freely given affection.

“Feed us!” Bea declares as we climb into the third-row seats of the SUV. “Then you and I have a concert to get ready for!”

I shake my head as we buckle in and join the line of cars leaving the academy. Her excitement is contagious and I can feel a smile stretching across my lips as I think of getting lost in the beat of pulsing music later tonight.

Staring out the window, I can’t help but remember the first concert we attended a few months after we started our second semester here at Dillon Falls. We’d gone to see Bea’s favorite band, Candy Courage, when they played a show in New York in the spring of our first year at school.

After their concert, Bea decided to major in business with a focus on music and arts management. A career driven by her need to get closer to the scene we both fell in love with.

I chose to pursue a degree in photography. Being behind the lens lets me showcase the world through my eyes. The hidden omega, forced to conceal so much of herself from the world, but still able to express what matters most. Still able to make a stand for what she believes in even if she has to do so from behind a mask.

My favorite shoots are always concerts and protests. Two events where you can see a multitude of raw emotions. Love, support, and passion. Even anger has its beauty if you capture the message behind the aggression.

I’m pulled back to the here and now as we turn into the parking lot of our favorite local diner. The thought of greasy burgers and a chocolate milkshake has my feet moving quickly across the pavement.

The Powells laugh as I wait for them by the door. They’re used to my food obsessions. My birth family never allowed me to choose what I wanted to eat. There were times I would go without any food as punishment for whatever slight my birth father had imagined that day.

After I escaped and settled into my new life as an omega, I took great joy in trying all kinds of new foods and eating as much as I wanted, as often as I wanted. They fully support my appetite and encourage me to be as food-venturous as I want. Whenever Bea and I go home for the summer, they always plan a short road trip for the pack with plenty of new restaurants to try along the way.

I hold the door open until Bea’s alpha father, Phoenix, takes it from my hands and ushers me inside. I can’t hide my smile as we sit around a large table. They are my family now. A fact I am eternally grateful for.

“Have you girls started packing for the move next weekend?” Shelby asks after we place our order.

Bea and I are renting a shared apartment in the city of Starburgh, a short drive outside of New York, where she will be working for the Soulbound Echo Studios record label.

I’m kind of terrified to be going to a new city and leaving the academy. When I was brought into the DAU’s designation protection program four years ago, it was the first time I’d ever moved. The first eighteen years of my life were spent in Witlan, New Hampshire where my birth family lives.

Moving to a farmhouse in upstate New York with the Powells was shocking to my already overwhelmed nervous system. Breakdowns, panic attacks, and nightmares became my new reality. My anxiety was at an all-time high until Bea and I moved into our dorms at Dillon Falls two months later. Only after I built a steady schedule and a safe space of my own creation did I manage to decompress.

Moving is one big, messy adventure. Or so I keep telling myself.

“We have all week to pack, Mom,” Bea replies with a roll of her eyes. She hates packing. Probably because she has so much stuff shoved into her bedroom back at the dorm. She’s going to have a meltdown when she realizes we have to also unpack all of it at the new apartment.

“Don’t wait till the last minute, bumblebee,” Forrest tells her. “You don’t want to have to pull an all-nighter right before you move.”

Bea waves him off but promises to put in more effort to start clearing out her belongings. I know I’ll wind up being roped into helping her later this week. She knows I love her too much to complain. I laugh as her parents tease her about her grudge against organizing, enjoying the peace I feel surrounded by my chosen family.

Lying on my bed later that night, after returning from the concert Bea’s dads surprised us with, I’m restless. My anxiety spiked from all of the changes headed my way.

-I’m losing the stability of my school schedule.

-We’re moving into a new apartment in a new city.

-Bea will be starting a new full-time job.

I think the latter is what bothers me the most because it means she won’t be at home as often. While loneliness is a familiar companion, a friend I grew well acquainted with after my big sister got married and moved away, I’ve grown used to having my extrovert bestie constantly at my side.

When I was first placed with the Powells, their vibrant chaos was overwhelming. Now, several years later, I’ve grown to love the life and joy my chosen family brings. There is always someone around to talk to. Someone who genuinely cares about your feelings and well-being.

Realistically, I know none of the changes in my life will take our closeness away from me. Even if they aren’t in the same house, or even the same city, I know all of the Powells are only a phone call away. I will still be able to rely on them for support.

My heart doesn’t seem to understand the memo my brain is sending though. Thoughts of the future leave me feeling untethered. Adrift in a sea of anxiety and inadequacy. Never feeling worthy of the love they claim to hold for me while also fearing they too will leave me behind.

Sighing, I try to force these derailing thoughts to the back of my mind. The omega representative who was my mentor at the academy warned me these types of mental spirals were a probability.

Unbonded omegas–especially those with a history of abuse, loss, or abandonment–need a pack to stabilize their mental health. The older you get the more your instincts compound the lingering effects of your trauma.

My mentor recommended I join the pack matching program to start building connections that can prevent me from spiraling, but the pack route wasn’t an option. Partially from the threat my past poses; partially because of the Fated connection I formed with a pack on my last birthday. If I were to ever feel safe enough to be courted, I would seek them out. My Fate matched mates.

As a child, I’d heard of Fated mates in whispered stories, but I never believed they were real. It wasn’t until my first year at Dillon Falls when one of the older omegas had her Fated connection present in the cafeteria that I realized those stories weren’t fairytales as I was led to believe.

At the age of twenty-one, everyone has a chance to experience the phenomena of a Fated connection, though not everyone is guaranteed to have Fate matched mates in the world. The connection comes in many forms. Some are very noticeable from the minute the connection appears, like meaningful tattoo-like marks or telepathic connections. Others take longer to appear, like shared emotions or dreams.

Even after witnessing omegas be blessed with Fated connections, I hadn’t ever thought I would have Fate matched mates of my own. Imagine my surprise when I turned twenty-one and used a pen to write on my arm, only to have someone respond to the message.

One Year Ago

Learning about the ins and outs of working in cinematography isn’t an invigorating topic for today’s advanced photography lecture. I’m bored out of my mind. My thoughts refuse to focus on a career I have no plans to take part in. Concert photography or photojournalism are the only routes for me.

As my thoughts wander, inspiration strikes for a tagline for one of the pictures I’d taken at a pro-pack protest last weekend. Quietly digging through my bag, I frown when I realize my notebooks aren’t inside. Apparently, I hadn’t returned them the night before. Oh well, the human body makes the perfect canvas in a time of creative need.

Grabbing the black gel pen sticking out of the front pocket, I scrawl the words onto my skin, sighing in relief when the weight of their presence leaves me feeling lighter.

‘The warmth of your scent feels like coming home.

The threads woven between us remind me I’m no longer alone.’

Half an hour later when the professor is wrapping up her lecture, my arm starts to tingle where I wrote on it. I momentarily grow concerned I might be having a bad reaction to the ink on my skin and quickly glance down at the words.

Seeing nothing wrong with my arm, I’m even more confused when I start to feel a sense of comfort and joy spread through me. Like getting hot cocoa from your favorite café on a cold day and realizing they put a dash of cayenne inside.

Bewildered, my eyes begin to roam around the room, but when the tingling starts to grow stronger, they snap back to my arm. Below where I wrote on my arm, words start to appear.

‘In the safety of your arms, I find my greatest joy,

wherever you go, no matter how far, my soul finally

knows where it belongs.’

My breath stalls in my lungs as panic builds low in my spine. No, please no, I silently beg as I stare at the words in shock. Tremors shake my hands as I gather my things, causing me to send my bag tumbling back to the floor when I try to pick it up.

Nausea churns in my stomach as I start to panic. I can’t have a Fated connection. It isn’t safe. They could–

Bam! The classroom door slams against the wall when someone opens it and walks inside. The next class is starting soon and I’m running late.

Walking into the hallway, I take a few deep breaths to center myself. All of my panic and worry are packed into a small box to be dealt with at home tonight. Right now I just have to focus on getting through the rest of my school day.

If you were to ask me to recount either of my last two lectures for the day, my mind would draw a blank. How could I focus with these words burned into my arm, reminding me of how cruel Fate can be? I barely remember waving goodbye as I left campus and beelined for my apartment.

The door slams shut behind me causing Bea to jump from where she sits at the table. “Oms?”

Here in the safety of our space, I let the feelings trapped beneath my skin free. Tears well in my eyes, dripping down my cheeks. Wordlessly, I slip off my coat and hold out my arm for my best friend to see.

She takes my hand, gently turning my wrist to read the words. “You have a Fated connection?” She keeps her voice pitched low, knowing me well enough to realize I am too close to spiraling into a full panic attack to handle her true excitement.

“Yes,” I choke out the word. I can’t even look at my arm without feeling as though I will break.

I’ve spent the past several years hiding behind a new identity after being forced to run from my hometown when I presented as an omega. My birth family are some of the most vocal and intolerant anti-designation leaders in the country. The DAU–a pro-pack, pro-designation group–helped smuggle me somewhere safer. They set me up with a whole new life, a new identity, and everything necessary for me to hide in plain sight.

So I can’t have any mates, Fated or otherwise. Not until my birth family no longer poses a threat to me and everyone associated with me.

I struggle enough knowing Bea and her family may one day be targeted to get to me. The thought of bonding to someone and my family finding them… I won’t do it.

Even though it destroys me to reject this connection, what choice do I have?

“No! I can see what you’re thinking and I won’t let you do that to yourself!” Bea glares. Her nails dig into my palm, grounding me through my panic. “Oms, I love you to pieces. You know I do. You’ve been my ride-or-die since the moment we met. So I’m going to be brutally honest, and it’s going to hurt to hear.”

She pauses, waiting until I meet her eyes. “If you set aside your connection to your mates out of fear, your parents win. They spent their entire life chipping away at your unique pieces so you’d fit their mold and join the other sheep they’ve converted. They are terrible, awful, vile people. Why are you denying yourself the possibility of the type of love people around the world dream about? Why are you letting your villains win?”

“I can’t, Bea,” I beg her. Imploring her to understand. “You grew up hearing stories from other anti-designation survivors, so you know what happens to anyone who defies my father’s vision. If he ever finds me… We both know I won’t survive a second time. And if I have a pack, even one I’m not bonded to, and he finds out? It would be selfish of me to put anyone else at risk. I won’t destroy someone else for a chance at my own happiness.”

Bea paces away from me in frustration. Her hands dig into her curls, tugging at the roots. Suddenly she stops and spins on her heel to face me. “So wait.”

“Wait?” I repeat.

“Yes, wait.” She closes the distance between us and grips both of my hands tightly in hers. “This connection is forever, Oms. You don’t have to meet and bond with them tomorrow. So wait. The DAU is already working extensively to find a way to take down not only your father but the entire oppressive system. What happens if you reject this bond and a year from now your father is behind bars and unable to ever find you? Are you willing to take that chance?”

Staring into the depths of her blue eyes, I take my first breath in what feels like a lifetime. She’s right. I was so lost in my fear and anxiety I hadn’t even considered it a possibility to delay getting to know them.

I could have that happiness with my mates on the other end of this Fated connection. I just have to ask them to be patient until I am safe enough to find them.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I won’t reject the connection. Yet.”

Bea whoops and spins me around. In her excitement, she knocks us both into the edge of the couch and sends it sliding across the floor several feet. “Oops.” She shrugs but wraps me in a hug. “Let’s figure out what you are going to say in response, then we will shelf all thoughts of mates and the future. We have a birthday to celebrate after all!”

I help her push the couch back into place before joining her at the table, leaving my arm laid out where we can both see the words. “Do you think it will stay there forever?” I murmur as I uncap my pen.

Bea cackles, her head shaking. “No, Omen, I don’t think it will be there forever. Oh! I’m going to take a picture! So you have something to remember them by until you feel safe enough to pursue the connection.” She grabs her phone and snaps several pictures.

“Perfect! Okay, let’s see. The first line was from you. An idea for a title for one of your photos?” she asks as she copies the words down on a blank piece of notebook paper. She’s been the sounding board for my work over the past two years so she recognizes my writing style. “The second line came from your mate? Together they sound like a poem. Or sappy song lyrics.”

Her pen stops on the paper as she turns narrowed eyes to me. “If you wind up mated to musicians and I’m not, I will be the saltiest bitch on the planet.”

I hold my hands up and roll my eyes. “You’ll have all the musician dick you want, B. That’s why you’re studying to become a manager in the industry, remember?”

“You’re right.” Her lips purse as she stares off into space with a dreamy look in her eyes. They say omegas are insatiable horny beasts and the description fits my best friend to a tee. I hope her future pack is huge so they can keep up with her appetite without over-exhausting themselves.

“So, your response,” Bea says, blinking. “You should tell them you are interested, but any pursuit can’t happen yet. And you can ask them to wait until you are ready to meet them.”

My attention turns back to the words on my arm and I know what I want to say. My pen shakes slightly until the tip presses into my skin below their response.

‘Despite the yearning in my heart, I cannot be yours.

Perhaps one day that will change,

but I understand if you do not wish to wait for me.’

Bea raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow my way. I know she disagrees with my choice to not ask them to wait but I don’t feel comfortable pressuring them when I have no timeline for my freedom. They deserve the chance to live their own life without the weight of my absence.

If that is the path they choose.

We wait in silence staring at my arm. Nothing happens. Fifteen minutes have passed when Bea asks if maybe I haven’t done it right. I shrug. “I don’t know what I’m doing. How does this stuff even work?”

Bea opens her laptop and does a quick internet search for details about communicating between Fate matched mates. There are entirely too many results and I’m grateful she is the one skimming them. I would be too overwhelmed by all the information.

“It says after the first time it is all about intent. So you have to write the message intending to send it to your mate. I think. Let’s try it.”

I pick up my pen once more and write over the letters again, focusing on sending the words to the mystery mate on the other side of the connection. My arm is warm as I finish the line and I know it worked this time. “I think you were right. It felt different this time.”

My stomach revolts as we sit and wait for a response. I jump in my seat when Bea claps her hands together. “Well, while I love sitting here staring at your arm, we need to start getting ready for a night on the town. So let’s move this party to the bathroom. It’s hair and make-up time! With music of course!”

Discovering my Fated connection was a surprise I was nowhere near ready to face. Fear of the future and panic over their safety overwhelmed me during those first few days. Several times I reconsidered Bea’s advice and almost reached out to end the connection.

Now, a year later, I’ve come to terms with the distance I’ve put between us. They don’t know who I am, and I know nothing about them aside from the single initial they use at the end of their messages. If my birth family were to find me tomorrow, they would be safe.

That is what matters most.

Our happily ever after can wait.