Page 124 of Knot Their Omega

My eyes further dip, forcing me to acknowledge the line beneath.

Estimated Life Expectancy:

3-6 Months without treatment.

I’m forced to swallow the lump in my throat, but the dread in my chest only further descends with the next line.

Treatment/Preventative care:

Incurable

“Fuck…” The words leave my lips because that’s the only thing I can get out without feeling like I’m drowning in devastation.

“This… this isn’t some sort of scare, right?” Nathaníel questions in disbelief.

“I’ve tripled check,” Dr. Malcom reveals. “I’ve done extra analyses that aren’t normally covered during initial pack review bloodwork.”

He takes a moment for his words to register in our frazzled minds.

“When you guys were hitting puberty, they tell you that rut blockers aren’t a long-term solution. They’re short term. To aid in controlling your urges so you don’t become addicted to theirchemical balance,” Dr. Malcom revealssternly. “There’s a reason why they emphasize that when you’re in your teens.”

He looks between us as his expression looks more dire.

“The chemicals in these products are heinous to an Alpha’s hormonal system. You’re forcibly trying to stop your body from doing what it’s naturally created to do when placed in situations where you’re in an Omega-heightened environment,” he explains. “Even short-term usage has an onset of effects that causes internal damage more than a physical set of symptoms and side effects that make you visibly ‘sick.’ Alphas think we’re being nagging medical professionals, but they emphasize how dangerous these drugs are, and you guys just brush it off. Even go to compare yourself to Omegas with their line of contraceptives and how they come out just fine.”

He shakes his head in dismay.

“Let me tell you the hard truth with these preventative shit. If it’s not made naturally with weaker components, most of these medications are filled with carcinogens. Those are the shit that gets into your blood and becomes a long-term toxin until your vital organs are affected. You know why that shit doesn’t happen to Omegas?”

“W-Why?” I ask.

“Their Heats send a specific hormone that cleanses their blood. Compared to a normal woman who would have their period every month, Omegas have their Heat. The overstimulation in those few days spikes the hormonal antidote that floods through their bloodstream, cleansing any toxins that may try to remain and become cancerous. It doesn’t mean they’re not at risk of side effects or long-term effects, but their bodies are genetically made to prevent such.” He looks at both of us. “Alphas are NOT made to fight those hormonal spikes.”

“But what about the contraceptives and shit Omegas have to use,” Nathaníel argues. “Aren’t those riddled with risks?”

“They are, but you’re not thinking like a business person would.”

“Business person…” I whisper as my brain is one step ahead.Piecing things together, one by one.“There’s no benefit to an Omega being sick or unwell… versus an Alpha… No one gives a shit if we rot and die.”

“Bingo,” Dr. Malcom declares. “Not to say your importance in this world is insignificant because status, power, and finances all play a significant role in whether someone will live or die. In the general aspect, Omegas are threatened to be extinct at the current rate predicted by population analyses, making them a sacred race that needs to be protected at all costs.”

He looks at his desk and loads of files before him.

“Everyone is reviewing this movement as some sort of drastic power struggle to make Omegas seem more important than they are, but none of you are grasping just how vital having an Omega is going to be in a few years. How Omegas will soon be given the choice of having more than one pack to appease because there is just not enough to go around. You’re all going to realize that Alphas are the weakest link in this world without an Omega to help balance your own urges and needs. You think the government is doing this just to teach your cocky breed a lesson on how to treat an Omega?”

“Maybe,” I mutter, but deep down, I know they’re not. There’s a deeper reason. One they don’t want to give us the privilege to find out the easier way.

Dr. Malcom leans further back into his chair, staring in my direction.

“Do you know what happens to Alpha who doesn’t fuck get a whiff of an Omega’s scent in 90 days?”

“No…” I whisper, feeling Nathaníel’s gaze on us.

“They go feral.”

My lips dip in a deep frown as I envision the primitive side of my Alpha instincts kicking in enough for me to lose my damn mind.

“Feral, as in you’ll go from being the famous talent manager everyone fights to get a mere phone call from to a manic, growling, naked man on all fours who will live the rest of your life in a cage,” he summarizes while he picks up a pen and spins it between his fingers. “Or maybe the government will decide they don’t want to waste tax dollars on keeping you alive in captivity, so they’ll electrocute you,” he offers. “Before an audience, of course. You’d be a good puppet for entertainment.”

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