Page 44 of Sacrifice

Oberon shrugs, the epitome of nonchalance. “That’s just life with an omega, Nero. You’ll get used to it.”

It’s supposed to be reassuring, but it reminds me that I’m still an outsider here. I’m proposing to join a pack bound by instincts and desires that I’ve only begun to understand. My own alpha urges claw at the inside of my chest, demanding dominance where I must offer partnership.

“Right,” I say, my mind battling between the primal urge to claim and the knowledge that I must adapt. “That’s just life with an omega.”

“Want a drink?” Oberon gestures towards the bar, a casual offer that I’m grateful for. It gives me something to focus on besides the tension coiling in my gut.

“Sure,” I respond with forced lightness, trying to shake off the gravity of my thoughts.

We settle onto the opulent sofas, the plush fabric a stark contrast to the hardness that’s taken residence inside me. Through the suite’s window, Oasis glimmers against the encroaching dusk, the Mojave sprawling beyond like a promise or a threat—I can’t decide which.

Silence stretches between us, heavy and expectant, until Oberon clears his throat. “Nero, I never got to thank you…for helping the girls at Dreamland.”

His words throw me off balance. I frown, unsure how to take the gratitude for something I’m not even certain I’ve done. “I don’t feel like I did all that much,” I admit, looking into my glass rather than meeting his eyes.

“Before you stepped in, Caius was letting those girls get abused by staff and customers alike.” His voice is flat, matter-of-fact, but there’s an undercurrent of anger there that resonates with my own. “Once you had your hand in things, the abuse stopped…well, right before Aisling escaped, anyway.”

Thinking of Aisling—of what she endured before finding sanctuary with Gunnar and his gang—stirs something fierce and protective within me. The knowledge that I played any part in ending her suffering, in stopping the abuse of any omega, fills me with a reluctant sense of pride.

“Guess I did something right then,” I murmur, finally lifting my gaze to meet Oberon’s steady one. “I just wish I could’ve done more sooner.”

“Sometimes it’s about doing what you can, when you can,” he replies, raising his glass in a silent toast to unsung victories and the hope of better days ahead.

I clink my glass against his, the sound echoing like a vow. We drink, and for a moment, we’re just two alphas sharing a quiet understanding in the eye of the storm that’s our lives.

“Actually, I should be thanking you,” I say, setting my glass down with a soft clink against the marble table. “For getting me in touch with Vance, for helping me escape Pacific City.” My mouth twists into a wry grin, thinking of the narrow escape and the odd turn of events that lead me to where I am now.

Oberon waves a dismissive hand, chuckling in response. “It was nothing. We look out for our own, and you…” He pauses, his eyes thoughtful as they lock onto mine. “You’re one of us now.”

The weight of his gaze is like a physical touch, grounding and real. It’s an acknowledgment of the shift in my world, the choices I’ve made leading me to this moment.

“Are you alright with it?” I ask, the question hanging between us like a challenge—my place among them still new, still uncertain.

Oberon leans back, his posture relaxed but his attention sharp. “I am. It feels like it was meant to be,” he admits, a rare vulnerability slipping through his usually guarded demeanor. “I’ve known for a while that you’d end up being one of us.”

“Have you now?” I can’t help the skepticism that laces my tone. Foresight isn’t something I put much stock in—not in a city that thrives on chaos and power plays.

“Sure have. You had a certain…chemistry with Ais the first night you met at Dreamland.” Oberon smirks, and there’s a glint in his eyes that speaks to unspoken stories and shared secrets. “But then again, that’s Ais for you. She has a way of charming the pants off anyone who crosses her path.”

“And Gunnar?” The memory of tangled limbs and shared breaths with both Aisling and Gunnar still leaves me off-kilter, a sensation that’s foreign yet intoxicating.

“From what I can tell, yes,” Oberon answers without hesitation. “Gunnar doesn’t let anything happen he’s not okay with. Not these days.”

I nod slowly, digesting this. Gunnar’s approval means more than it should—more than I’m willing to admit even to myself. “And the proposal? What’s his take on that?” The words slip out before I fully register the tension they evoke.

Oberon’s posture stiffens ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing as he considers his answer. It’s a subtle shift, but I catch the change instantly—we alphas are attuned to the slightest hints of discord.

“Marriage is…complicated,” Oberon admits after a beat. His voice carries a weight that belies the casualness of the conversation. “Gunnar knows what needs to be done for the pack, for the city. But there’s always more at play—the bigger picture, the world’s demands. It’s never just about him and Aisling.” He exhales a humorless chuckle. “Bla bla bla…you know how it goes.”

“Yeah, I get it.” I lean back into the plush sofa, the leather cool against my skin. The pull between duty and desire isn’t unfamiliar to me. “The tug-of-war between personal wants and greater needs. It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Always is.” Oberon gives a rueful smile, one that speaks volumes about the sacrifices made in the name of power and position. “Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever get a moment of peace. Just a damn second where it’s not about strategy or survival.”

The pause between us stretches, filled with unspoken understanding. It’s the life of an alpha—constant vigilance, endless battles. But tonight, for a fleeting moment, I want to imagine something different.

“Does he want to marry Aisling?” The question escapes me before caution can catch it, raw and loaded.

“One day, I’m sure he does,” Oberon nods. “And you know…pack marriages are changing all the time, those bonds getting more and more common. But—”

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