Omega

Chapter 4

I reached home alive and unharmed, which was good considering the day I had. I gracefully scrambled out of the classroom as the bell rang. Gracefully scrambling is an action I’ve perfected over the years. It consists of getting my books ready five minutes before class ends, sliding out of my seat as if I peed myself and didn’t want anyone to know, and walking out like the floor was covered in glass and I forgot to wear shoes that day. All my other classmates decided to wait until Cain exited first (in hindsight, a more respectable option), which he did right behind me. But as I wondered if screaming would help, he walked past me, slowing his steps only slightly near me. My heart beat faster than normal until I got back to my sanctuary. Logan wanted to escort me everywhere which I declined, and Daciana was most unhelpful, adopting unnecessary hysterics when I failed to see the gravity of my problem that had me comforting her. I walked inside and threw my bag near the coat closet; homework could wait as my mind was preoccupied. The scent of pasta wafted into the air. I strolled into the spacious kitchen to find, as I suspected, my dad stirring a pot while in his red apron.

“Dad?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” my dad greeted only taking his eyes off the pot of sauce momentarily. Pasta was the only thing my father knew how to make and that took fervent attention. I pulled a large bowl out for the salad I was silently assigned to make. We were werewolves, yes, but even wild-born wolves eat roughage.

“Where’s Mom?”

“She left before I was home. Apparently there was a development of some sort. She just told me she was on her way home now. So dinner is al la dad tonight.”

For weeks, rogues had begun frequently venturing closer into the pack’s territory. Rogues had always roamed around occasionally, especially around the borders, but more were threatening the pack. Law stated that werewolves living in a certain area had to deal with the rogues or risk fines and prosecution from the government if humans were harmed. My mom helped to decipher their statements for the alpha when they were interrogated. She was a certified psychiatrist when we lived outside the pack and planned to have her own practice. Now, she spent most of her time deciphering incoherent mumblings. Why she found it interesting left me amazed.

Just as my father and I settled into our dinner preparation corny joke battle, my mother burst through the door with more grace than I ever hoped to possess. She walked immediately into the kitchen and, upon seeing us almost finished with dinner, sighed in relief dropping her purse on the ground next to the table.

“You guys are simply the best. I knew I could count on you two!”

My dad turned off the stove to give my mom a very inappropriate kiss in front of me. I opted to set the table instead of gouging my eyes out with a red hot iron.

“Still impressionable over here!” I called out washing my hands. My mother bumped me to the side to wash her own, snorting, “Oh please! You’ve probably gone farther than that today alone.”

Well, the option was proposed to me, I thought silently, blocking any connection I had to my parents. They were both Unshifted meaning their ability to mind link was lower but in such close proximity to me, there was no difference. Now, it seemed my refuge was being invaded by unwanted guests. When that happened, normal people took a step back; I accidentally tripped into the darkness with a shovel and a dream. When we were all seated picking through our salads and twisting our spaghetti, I grabbed my shovel and crept forward.

“Do you guys know what an omega is? Have you ever seen one?”

My dad perked up at the off topic question. “Why would ask that question?”

I shrugged staring at the sliver of steak in my spaghetti sauce with determined interest. “Well, I may have met one today.”

My dad took a moment to consider the question. “Well, I’m sorry, Sweetheart, my family has been out of the pack for generations.” I knew that. Dad was old (somewhere in his seventies though just now getting gray hair) and had never even seen many pack members until his daughter had to become one. But my dad being the level-headed optimistic he always was, took it all in stride and packed us up securing a job at the bank and never looking back, except for a football game every now and then. It would make sense he had no recollection of omegas. “I know very little about omegas; but I do know most folklore, however distorted they become, stem from some accurate telling of the past. Where did you meet this person?”