Page 71 of Omega Hunted

“Raff sounds like someone who could have changed my life.”

“He tried to save everyone from the system,” Cassian said quietly. “He was a free omega who grew up in Quebec, in a mixed pack that believed omegas were people before they were anything else. He had parents who adored him and made friends everywhere he went. He used to tell me he was one of the lucky ones, and he never forgot that luck wasn’t something every omega got to have.”

He smiled, but sadness shadowed it.

“He hated injustice. Didn’t matter whether it was aimed at him or someone he’d never met. He couldn’t walk past it. He challenged people when they made jokes about omegas, called out ORT officers who thought they knew better because they were alphas, and argued with commanders who treated rescued omegas like they were problems to solve instead of people who’d survived hell. He hated what the SED stood for, wanted to fix everything, and he tried.” Cassian shook his head, the smile lingering. “Some of the attitudes inside ORT weren’t much better than outside it. Most of the team were good people, but every organization has its bad ones. ORT liked a beta on every extraction teams. They didn’t carry the alpha dominance frightened omegas reacted to, and they weren’t pulled around by omega scent or heats in the same way we were.”

He paused for a while, his eyes bright with emotion. “But omegas… Goddess… there were alphas who questioned whether an omega should be operational, who thought he’d only got his place because someone wanted diversity on the teams, or that he’d become a liability the moment he bonded.”

His expression darkened.

“The worst part was that Raff never seemed surprised. He’d sigh, smile that smile of his, and patiently educate them until they either shut up or walked away. He always believed people could be better than they were.”

Cassian stared into his coffee.

“All he’d done was be born an omega, and people still found reasons to make him feel less. That was with a loving family, a good education, legal protections, and a badge on his chest. And then they sent him inside that warehouse and took him from the world. From me.”

His eyes lifted to mine, full of quiet sorrow.

“Then I see you, Soren.” He swallowed. “You didn’t have any of that. You weren’t only marginalized or underestimated. You were hunted, imprisoned, drugged, used, and taught that your only worth was what your body could give other people.” His voice roughened. “I honestly don’t know how you’ve survived it.”

I couldn’t bear the compassion in his eyes.

“Some days,” I whispered, “I’m not sure I did.” I couldn’t stay still, and the chair scraped against the floor as I stood, one hand braced against the table until my balance settled. My back had stiffened while we’d been talking, and Asha shifted low inside me. I crossed to the window, drawn by the white world outside. Snow drifted beyond the glass, swallowing the pines and the mountain beneath a haze of white, until my tears blurred the rest.

“Please don’t cry,” he murmured.

“I can’t stop.”

“Soren.”

I kept my eyes on the snow.

“I don’t know what to do with everything you’re telling me.” My voice barely carried beyond the glass. “I keep thinking about Raff, and how much you loved him, and…” My throat tightened. “I don’t know why that makes me want to cry.”

I heard his footsteps cross the kitchen, and he stopped beside me instead of behind me, close enough that I could feel his warmth without him touching me. He held out one hand, and I took it, and when his fingers closed gently around mine, warm and so careful, he gave the smallest tug. I followed him without thinking, letting him lead me back towards the table until he sat down again.

“Come here,” he said and patted his knee.

I pointed at his lap, then back at him. “I’m bigger every day now. I’ll squash you.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “You won’t.”

Cassian reached for me then, one arm sliding around my waist while the other steadied my shoulder. He watched me, as if he was waiting for the slightest sign I wanted him to stop. When I didn’t, he lifted me just enough that I found myself perched across his thighs. Somehow between the last time I’d sat on his lap and this, I’d become bigger and increasingly useless.

Asha objected with a solid kick.

“Oh, honestly,” I muttered, shifting my hips. “We’re trying.”

Cassian laughed under his breath and adjusted his grip without a word, broad hands supporting more of my weight until I wasn’t balancing anymore. There wasn’t enough room for me to sit properly because of my stomach, so I ended up half sideways, one arm draped over his shoulder while my legs stretched towards the empty chair beside us.

It wasn’t graceful. In fact, it was probably the least elegant cuddle in the history of cuddles, but it was perfect, and I buried my nose into his neck. He smelled of coffee, woodsmoke, and pine, all wrapped up in wolf.

Home, my cat whispered.

His chin rested on my hair, and neither of us spoke. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear. One of his hands settled between my shoulder blades, rubbing in slow circles that weren’t trying to soothe me, yet somehow reached places inside me I hadn’t realized were still hurting.

The other rested across my side, never pinning me in place. Never stopping me from leaving. Just… there.