I keep my expression neutral, but something in my chest tightens.
"And what the fuck does this have to do with us?" I demand. "What do you mean, won't let her send the stupid letters?"
Sage's jaw tightens.
"New rules. Apparently Omegas without packs can no longer send letters, participate in recitals..." He pauses, something flickering across his face. "She's a dancer. Ballet, I'm assuming. Everything is being canceled because she's packless."
Ballet.
The word echoes in my memory.
The Omega in the forest—the one who moved like violence was choreography, who killed with the precision and grace of someone who understood their body on a fundamental level?—
She fought like an assassin but moved like a dancer…
"I don't know the details or why it's being hastily put into effect," Sage continues, "but..."
He trails off, and I watch something shift in his expression. His eyes go distant, unfocused, like he's looking back at something that still hurts to examine.
"All the letters," he says quietly. "She wrote them in dual. One to send, one to keep. And well... someone at the post officeleaked the letters. Hung them around where she was supposed to audition."
My stomach drops.
I don't want it to.
Don't want to feel anything about this stranger's pain.
But I remember the forest. Remember the bodies. Remember the way she walked away like nothing mattered anymore—like she'd already decided that caring was a luxury she couldn't afford.
"They got ruined in the rain," Sage finishes, his voice rough. "And well..."
"Well?" I snap, harsher than necessary. "You thought pity sex was the answer?"
He shakes his head.
"It wasn't pity."
The words are quiet.
Certain.
The voice of someone who's thought about this carefully and arrived at a conclusion he can't escape.
"It was because the look in her eyes made me feel like if I let her walk off... she'd cease to exist."
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence.
None of us speaks.
Not even me.
Because despite everything—despite the heir I've become, the weapon I've been forged into, the cold and ruthless leader who does what needs to be done regardless of the cost?—
I remember.
I remember being seventeen years old, standing on the roof of my family's compound, looking down at the ground forty stories below, and thinking this would be easier.
