Walter

I feel little kisses on my cheek as I slowly open my eyes. I’ve slept soundly, sandwiched between Oril and Keion in my large nest. Normally, waking up like this, wrapped in warmth, pressed against two of my mates would fill me with happiness. Usually, I rise refreshed, my body loose and my mind light after a night of cuddling. But today is different. Today, there’s a heavy, uncomfortable sinking feeling in my gut, as if a gaping hole is silently eating away at me.

I stare at the white ceiling above, lost in my world of depression, my thoughts circling like vultures awaiting a meal. "What’s wrong? You seem down," Keion asks, his tone laced with worry as his fingers gently fiddle with my hair, twisting strands between his fingertips.

"Nothing," I mumble half‑heartedly, avoiding the matter. And it isn’t exactly a lie, I simply have nothing tangible to be down about. I don’t even know why I feel this way. Maybe it’s the whole second Omega situation. But it can’t be that. Yuerna assured me she has everything under control.

"What is that delicious smell?" Oril murmurs, sniffing the air, still half asleep.

I’m so wrapped in my stress that I hadn’t noticed there was a rich, mouthwatering aroma drifting through the room. Was someone cooking? It’s probably Yuerna. She’s an excellent cook. I doubt it’s one of my mates.

"Yuerna sure does know how to cook," I say, my stomach rumbling at the thought. Food has always been my weakness. I don’t like cooking, not that I can do it well anyway, but I love eating good food.

"What delicious smell are you guys talking about? I only smell bleach. Are the helpers coming in today?" Kei grumbles, sliding off the bed, his tight ass in full view. Not a bad view, honestly.

"Well, I think you should get your senses checked. I don’t smell bleach. Plus, Aunt Yuerna placed all the helpers on a very long paid leave until the Omega leaves, for some reason," Oril says, following Kei’s lead and sliding off the bed.

I drag myself reluctantly out of my comfortable nest. Normally, I’d sleep in for another hour, but food is what drives me out of bed today. Kei is the first to leave the room, while Oril and I follow later, dressed in something decent to walk around in. Unlike Kei, who is perfectly fine parading around in boxers or naked most of the time if Torin’s mother weren’t here.

"This place is spotless. I can smell the bleach now too," Oril says, still holding my hand as his eyes scan the sitting room to the kitchen, from where we stood on the spiraling stairs.

"It’s the cleanest this place has ever been since it was built," I say in awe. And I’m not being dramatic. The tall windows gleam so brightly I can see my reflection in them.

"Who even cleaned this place?" I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. I know it’s not Yuerna. She’s not the cleaning type.

"This food tastes like it was cooked by some Michelin‑star chef. Were you skimping on your cooking skills yesterday, Aunty?" Kei asks, biting into a piece of bacon, his plate resting on the island in front of him. His back is to us while he faces Yuerna.

"Is that to say my cooking is bad?" she asks, feigning hurt as she sips her hot chocolate.

"No, not at all. Your food was good yesterday too. It’s just... this is on another level. I can tell it was done with love," Kei says nervously, choking on his bacon as he tries to defend himself. I chuckle at my bozo of a Delta. He’s never been the best with words.

"Love? I’m not sure any of this food was done with love," Yuerna laughs, brushing off his compliment.

"What do you mean by that? Who cooked this food and cleaned this house?" I ask, settling onto a kitchen stool. Oril sits beside me, reaching for one of the many blueberry muffins laid out in the breakfast buffet.

"The little Omega that was outside," Yuerna says calmly, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. I feel Oril shift uncomfortably beside me, his body tense.

"When did she come?" I ask, clearing my throat, forcing a tight smile even as my stomach knots.

That Omega has been roaming in my house for hours while I slept soundly. She touched my things, moved through my space, and already I feel attacked. My sanctuary feels violated and my territory invaded.

"Is she the one that cleaned the house as well?" Kei asks, his eyes scanning the spotless counter, his voice casual but curious.

I roll my eyes internally. She’s already bootlicking, already proving herself, and she hasn’t even been here for a full day. "Yep, under my strict eye," Yuerna says, nodding with a proud smile, her tone dripping with satisfaction.

"Where is she now? I didn’t see her on my way here, and I can’t even smell her scent," I say, frustration curling in my chest. The thought unsettles me, she could pop out from anywhere, appear suddenly, and steal my pack right out from under me and I wouldn’t see it coming.

"Well, I had her wear a dissenting lotion hence you can’t smell her. She should still be in the laundry room, doing the washing. There’s quite a lot of clothes," Yuerna replies, putting her mug on the island, her calmness infuriating me. "Do you want to meet her? I can get her."

I shake my head quickly. "No, it’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t want to meet her just yet."

I bite into a banana muffin that Oril had passed to me, the taste exploding in my mouth, melting in a way that makes me feel like I’ve stepped into heaven. I hate that it tastes good. I hate that I love it. Why must this muffin taste so perfect? Why must this house be so spotless? Why must she be flawless in everything she does?

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. Augi got arrested last night. Apparently, he got into a brawl or something. Oracle went to bail him out this morning," Kei says nonchalantly, not even bothering to look up as he devours his stacked breakfast plate like a goblin.

I sigh, not even surprised. Augi gets arrested every other day. His lack of control, his constant anger, always drags him into fights for one reason or another. I tried to talk to him; it got nowhere so I gave up. The best I can do is to tend to his wounds when he gets back.

"Oracle must be hyperventilating out of anger. It’s the fourth time this month he’s had to pay bail money," Oril jokes, smiling faintly. His humor eases the tension, and for a moment, it feels good to see that some things remain normal, however bad that normal might be. Normalcy, even in chaos, is comforting.

"I should go change. My agent will be here soon, I have a photoshoot," I say, sliding off my chair.

Today’s shoot is for a perfume company, though I can’t even remember the name. I think back to when I first told my pack I wanted to be a model, years ago. They were supportive, of course, but concerned. It wasn’t common for an Omega to work, to pursue a career, to do anything beyond staying home and serving as an Alpha’s emotional support doll, waiting to be used. That’s what the institution taught us, that we were nothing more than playthings for Alphas and Deltas.

That’s part of the reason I chose modeling, a field dominated by Alphas and Deltas. I wanted to prove to that devil’s playground of an institution that I could be more than a plaything. That their plan of beating me into submission did not work. Even if I am sometimes a victim of my own emotions, I refuse to let them define me.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come in my career, but I strive for more hence I push myself harder every day. I want to carve out a place for myself in this world, to prove that I am more than what they tried to make me. And I will.