Page 69 of Omega Hunted

A quiet laugh escaped him.

“He talked.” I blinked. “Constantly.” The smile reached his eyes now. “I’d say something, and Raff would answer with a story that somehow involved three complete strangers, two dogs, a detour of fifty miles, and somewhere we’d stop for pie on the way home.”

“He liked pie?”

“He liked everything.” Cassian shook his head fondly. “At our old place in the city, we’d go out for groceries, and by the time we’d reached the checkout, he’d know the cashier’s daughter’s name, and that the woman behind us in the line bred goats, and if he saw them again he’d ask them for more news about weddings, or goats, or someone’s husband.”

I laughed.

“He remembered all of that?”

“Every single detail.” He snorted. “He’d happily spend twenty minutes talking to a stranger while I stood there wondering if we’d ever get home.” The humor lingered on his face, but grief rested beside it now instead of swallowing it whole.

Silence settled comfortably between us. I expected it to hurt. Instead, it felt important, as though Cassian was finally remembering the man for me, not the tragedy.

I wrapped my hands around the ridiculous wolf mug. “Did the bond happen with him immediately?”

“Yes,” he narrowed his eyes. “But I was already…” He gestured vaguely at himself. “He had this extraordinary gift of making the world feel worth saving.”

His gaze drifted around the kitchen, seeing another time.

“If we came home after an operation, there’d be music playing at our old apartment the second he stepped through the door, and he’d be dancing while he cooked, despite having absolutely no sense of rhythm. He’d read passages out loud from whatever book he was halfway through because, apparently, I needed to hear them right away. He loved the snow, though, and every time it snowed, he’d declare it the perfect excuse to light the fire, make hot chocolate, stay in pajamas all day, and ignore the rest of the world. That’s why he found this damn mansion in the middle of nowhere. He always said it was the perfect place to curl up under a blanket and read a book, among other things.” He smiled, and this time there was more love than grief in it. “I used to tease him that he was trying to domesticate my wolf.”

“Was he?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Did it work?”

Cassian smiled briefly, but there was nothing warm in it. “I think I’m only just beginning to realize maybe it did.”

“And he was successful in the ORT?”

He frowned. “Yes, but he wanted out of the ORT, and I understood why. He said it had stopped being about the omegas.” His expression hardened. “That they’d just become numbers. Twelve rescued meant a successful operation, no matter how many we failed to reach. No matter who got hurt. No matter what happened to them afterward. They paraded every rescue as proof we were the good guys while people behind desks decided which lives were worth risking and which ones were acceptable losses.” His jaw tightened. “He was right, but it was too late, and Raff died because someone made that calculation.”

“Omegas really are on their own,” I whispered, grief hollowing me out. The ORT and its connected Haven Network had been the last hope, the one place that was supposed to stand between omegas and the SED, between us and the alphas who believed they owned us. Even when I’d known they couldn’t save me, I’d believed they were saving someone.

Now even that small hope was gone.

“Raff wanted this place to be a home, somewhere we could help omegas without answering to the ORT.” His expression tightened. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s why he became expendable. Maybe they knew we were halfway out the door. Maybe they thought losing Raff would break me enough that I’d stay, bury myself in the work and let them use my grief to keep me loyal.” He looked at me. “They were wrong. And maybe that’s why you being here feels right.”

Something in Cassian’s voice changed before he’d even finished the thought, and a small smile touched his mouth. Whatever he’d remembered, it mattered to him. “Can I show you something?”

“Another library?” I teased gently, as whatever question had been sitting in my chest eased.

“Better,” He said and offered his elbow, and I took it, letting him lead me down the hall to his office. I stopped dead on the threshold the second I saw the images that cycled silently across four screens, each one showing a different stretch of snow-covered road, tree line, fence, or approach to the house, motion sensors and thermal overlays and time stamps ticking over in the corners as if the house itself never stopped watching.

“You can see everything?” I asked.

“I have to make sure the system works before I hand it over to the Haven Network.”

“When are you handing it over?”

He frowned. “Not yet.”

“Yet?” I asked, not that I wanted an answer.

“It’s not ready.”