Your Omegas Are Mine 1| Euodia's Sun | Omegaverse Apocalyptic Reverse Harem

64- Beginning of Chapter 21

Quinn

What had she done?

Mocked death, kissed life goodbye, allowed her soul to stretch greedy fingers into the air and beg for privilege, for things she did not have. How could Quinn allow herself to speak to an Omega as if he were an equal in a world where she did not matter? Where her words did not matter, her thoughts did not matter, and her life did not matter?

Blasphemy.

Her voice had soared, stung, and bitten into their throats, had been rude, impudent and everything wrong. She'd let her guard down in Hemlock, allowed the strength to return to her. The hope that there was someone for her had poisoned her mind. For sweet moments, she'd believed that she would have a partner in this forsaken world.

Zen had been everything—hope, love, a life lost, a life regained.

And now she knew he was Euodia's tortured pet, the seventh King of their world, a famed abuser. The thought destroyed her, made breath escape her throat raw and raspy. How fucked up, how cruel. How could Quinn stand before him without shame, colouring her cheeks and memories twisting her mind? How could she look at him knowing the things he did to girls?

How could he be hers?

Zen was a tyrant to the Alphas, a King that laughed at despair, a King destined to be with his six. And he had fooled her again and again. Her eyes prickled with tears. Wet and ragged, it wheezed out of her throat—dry and rough like sandpaper. Her rant had been one of a cornered animal, hissing, biting, and desperate for them to understand. For the world to understand, for her to understand.

Zen was not hers, and he would kill her.

Quinn didn't want to go out with her head off and begging 'please'. She had seen the girls cry, dragged across the ground, kicking and screaming. Electrocuted for mistakes, tortured for nothing, at the very least the men here did not take her. But abuse had no excuse. Please, I'll do better. Please, I was only listening to your orders. Please, I'm innocent and this is all a mistake. Please don't kill me.

They were rulers that did not care for the lives of the women.

And Quinn would go down screaming her truth. With the noose around her neck, she'd speak of their torture, their lack of mercy. Their fucked up patriarchy. That they were the monsters that they hated, the people they so despised. History had repeated itself once again. And regardless of their knowledge, of their understanding, of their experience—hatred drove them to do the same.

But before that, it was time that she ran, about time when she didn't give a fuck about their rules, their needs, their wants. She'd die trying, and that would be Quinn's way to go.

In the wastelands, with the Lonely.

Why stay? She wondered, fingers catching on her frock, breathing heavy, pants escaping. The healing of her leg. The reputation of the Alphas. The dangers of the Lonely. The harsh, ever-changing weather. Zen, her soulmate. Her eyes trailed up to the sky, to the spin of thunder clouds. But it didn't matter anymore, did it? Nothing did.

So why should Quinn give a damn about the consequences? She ran.

If what Zen said was true, if he was that desperate for an Alpha, then the seven would be here. The Kings would arrive and they'd trap her in their pretty little cage—a lab rat, a little pet, an Alpha to suck dry. Quinn pursed her lips, the residual fear from Euodia already spinning through her veins. Euodia stank of it— the wobbling, crazed hatred, the rising anxiety, the pungent scent of dread.

With food, water, and washing, it would be like seeing a ghost of their past. She could lie through her teeth, spit stories of genetics. A cousin. But no one would be kind to someone that so heavily resembled their tormenter. Zen might accept her, for he'd known her with bruises painting her cheeks and blood dripping from her lips.