Page 84 of The Omega Archives: Part Two

He thought I was strong?

“I can’t imagine it was tea parties and dresses like most of the omegas I’ve known partook in.”

I chuckled. “Definitely not.”

“So instead I’ll be angry for you. Wait to be even more angry for a little while likely,” he said honestly. “And then we’ll act. We’ll move forward.”

“You’re angry.”

“I’malways angry for…”He paused.“For people I care about.”

“And now I am one of those people.”

He shrugged.“Do you want to be?”

For somereasonwhen he looked at me with such grief and understanding in my eyes.I did.Markosomehow, justunderstood in a way that even wordscouldn’texplain.

“I’m angry too,” I whispered.

“Good.”

Good?

He lifted his chin towards the punching bag set up in the room. It looked well-used and faded in spots.“We can use angry. Angry can be good. Go on. You said you needed to get some anger out now. Hit it. Itwon’thurt your hands.”

I looked down at my small fists. I never hit anyone before.

The only things I’ve hit ever were the books, and even those were handled with care in the archives. The thought alone made me want to giggle.

But there was still venom in my chest brewing at the thoughtof thattoo.Everything was takenaway from me. My life. My job. My omega.

So much in no specific order.

“Hit it,” Marko encouraged.

Before I could overthink it anymore, I swung back and hit the bag.

It was a rough felt and vinyl material.Itdidn’thurt, but Idid feel the impact against the flats of my knuckles.

“Good,”Marko said again. I almost swore I saw a corner of his mouth flinch into a smile. But I had to be imagining things after our heavy conversation just a second ago. Iwasn’tsureI’dever seen Marko smile.“All right then. Whenyou’reready.”

Ok. Again.

I grunted as I punched the bag.

Marko paused, fixing my thumb again soitwasn’ttuckedinwards before letting me go back at it, not stopping me. Hedidn’tstop me as I went at it.

Once I started, Icouldn’tstop. I let all my frustration and confusionthat hadbeenbottled upfor days finally come out with each swing. I had held it all together for too long.No matter what happened,foryearsI assured myself that it wasokay.

I was fine.

I was safe.

I could do this.

But Idon’tthink I ever was ableto fully believe myself. And that made something inside of my chest ache.

Now that I was here surrounded by peoplewhoeven if they werealphasseemedto genuinely care for me, a stranger they barely knew…

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