Page 60 of The Omega Archives: Part One

I couldn’t stop staring at them, feeling myself start to sway on my feet.

The hot alum has me sweating.

That must be it, considering not only should I not be thinking that they are attractive. They are the guy’s pack I was seeing.

They were alphas.

Danger.

Slamming the yearbook shut, I quickly shoved it back onto the shelf and made my way towards my desk, cleaning up the final pieces of paper left from my project.

My eyes again caught on a piece of paper. No, not just one piece. Multiple. Because I was good at my job and when it came to projects, once I started, I couldn’t just stop.

I found the name in more than one place the more I looked for it.

Davidson.

The last name and initials that I thought looked correlated or with similar signatures on collected documents turned over to the archive relating to the Prestford legacy went into a pile. Most of them detailed one thing.

Omega funds.

More specifically? The large amount of donations being given to Omega Havens and other omega works and services by the Davinson family.

And I was starting to be unable to think it could be any other Dvainson family than the one I knew. Because their names were all right there.Everywhere,along with big fat quotes right alongside those big fat checks, they are congratulated in big money articles, detailing how happy they were to support such an important designation that needs to be kept safe and protected.

Yet none of that made sense. Or rather, it did.

Too much.

But then there was the other question of why… Why was Cal and his pack looking into these kinds of funds? Just like the Davidson’s.

Just like them.

I forced myself to look away from the papers and research, shoving them into a folder. I needed to stop this. I was fine and I was… happy.

Was that what this feeling was recently?

Huh. I smiled.

I needed to stay happy and to do that, I needed to keep myself as far away from my past as possible. It was that easy.

I would just pass along all the other information to Cal like I said, and tell him that’s that. I’m done.

He’s the one that was always on me about taking a break after this project anyway.

I peeked up to my computer screen.

The alumni database was uploaded. The favors made to be formed like business cards just as I suggested to Mr. Wolfern were ordered from the print shop.

Everything was done. Finished. Complete.

Not a single task was left.

A weight I very much knew I was holding, lifted off my shoulders. My breath came out shaky as I swallowed and let my head hang as if I’d just run a marathon.

It certainly felt that way.

The project wasn’t one of the most complex I ever done, but one week was faster than I ever managed before.

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