Alpha Omega

The Underground

Dominic P.O.V

Kiya's face falls. "What do you mean?" 

Janet is shaking, "R...royals." Kiya takes her into her arms, rubbing the older woman's arms to comfort her.

Ty gasps then goes to crouch before the older woman. She whimpers, but Ty takes her wrinkled hand in both of his, "We aren't here to hurt you." He says softly. 

Kiya is staring in shock, just like all the other Omega's posed to run from the door. Here is the next Alpha of the largest pack on the continent, kneeling before an elderly Omega. 

The woman shakes her head, "Boy, just you being here has doomed us. It does not matter that you came to the underground, all that matters is that we are in your way. We've been seen. Pack law dictates we are now to be sentenced." 

Tyron shakes his head, "Maybe Pack law needs to change." 

I watch Kiya intently as tears spring in her eyes. she lifts one of her arms from the older woman to wipe her tears away and sniffs, "They want to help Janet. They...they're my friends." 

I growl, but say nothing to this. This is her world. We asked her to trust our judgments outside, but, as she said, the Omega's, in their minds, are not a true part of my pack. We can discuss the 'friends' label later. 

Janet nods before pulling her hand away from Ty. Ty stands smoothly and Kiya mouths 'thank you' to him as he does. He winks, looking the woman straight in the eye, "I won't tell if you won't."

Janet harumphs, then turns to the crowd, flapping her arms about as she marches back up the steps, "Well, there's no use waiting around in the damn laundry room all day! It's hotter than the ninth circle of hell down here! What are you all gawking at? Never seen a royal before?" 

The old woman smirks at us over her shoulder and Kiya bursts out laughing as the crowd scatters. I think I have a few ideas where Kiya got her sense of humor from. 

Kiya takes my arm and Ty's, expertly navigating the piles of clothes littered about the room. The man from before, Dorian, follows behind us. He has light-brown hair cut short and streaked with gray and vaguely familiar blue eyes. He looks nothing like his niece. In fact, even once the smells of detergent and soap disappear, he still doesn't smell related to her. I growl in frustration. Kiya looks at me from the corner of her eye but I avoid looking at her. 

We walk out of the laundry room, through a narrow room with folding and ironing tables set up on each side, take a left down another corridor so narrow I bang my shoulders on the shelves a few times. They have filled the floor to ceiling shelves on both sides of the corridor, filled with laundry products. I can't imagine how we could need this much detergent and soap just for laundry! I'm mulling over this until we exit the corridor and I find myself in a commercial kitchen. 

Janet is standing behind a stainless-steel bench with knives and pots hanging from a rack above her head, "Sit down boys." She indicated to a few cheap bar stools stacked in the corner. They are wooden and chipped and the metal legs are so rusted I worry it'll give out under me. 

"We're fine standing," I say, crossing my arms. 

Kiya rolls her eyes, probably knowing what I'm thinking. Everyone in the kitchen comes over to her, and for a few minutes, we are all but forgotten as she is engulphed by the Omegas. I have to fight the urge to growl every time she is engulphed in a hug by a male. They can't all be her uncles. Since the majority of wolves are male, I was losing the battle fast. 

Janet appeared before me. The woman was so tiny she barely made it to my chest. She holds out a plate of twisted pastries coated in icing sugar. 

"Have a Chiacchiere, they're good for jealousy."