Page 13 of Knot All is Forgiven

"Woah, way to ease him into it." I scowl at Cyrus, then turn my gaze to Simon. "But yeah, I didn't realize it was her at first, but then I got a look at her face and realized she was an Omega. I followed the EMTs outside, and it hit me that she smelled like mango and limes. I knew I had to be there when she woke up."

A brief flash of excitement gives way to devastation. "She's going to hate us." Simon stands up and begins pacing the room. He's clearly in a motorcycle club, and a rough one by the looks of it, but he's pacing and pulling on his green hair like he used to when we were kids. "She told us. She knew. She knew." He spins and glares at Cyrus, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I told you! I told you it wasn't a good idea and to give her more time. I fucking knew this would happen!"

"Hey, calm now," I say softly. "We can't change it. We just have to fix it."

Cyrus crosses his arms defiantly. "Whatever choice we made, she's our Omega."

"Our?" Simon laughs. "There is no us. We haven't been a pack in a decade, dude. And what, we're just supposed to forget how messed up we are, try to fix everything, and pretend we're all good for Jordan?"

I can't deny that we're a mess of a pack, and I played a hand in that, but the way Simon is so quick to write us off hurts more than I'm willing to admit.

He pulls the front of his jacket nervously, but all I can see is a patch on his shirt underneath that says 'Slime.'

"Slime?" I ask incredulously. "Why does your shirt say Slime?"

"That's my name," he huffs, turning his back to me.

Cyrus rests his elbows on his knees and laces his fingers on the back of his neck. He mumbles something about morons under his breath.

"We can work out all the details later," I say placatingly. "For now, we just need to worry about if Jordan is okay and how we can break the news to her."

Simon… er, Slime? I should respect his wishes and call him Slime, but it may take some getting used to. My former packmate sits down and pulls his phone out of his pocket, jamming at it in frustration. "Yeah, boss, I won't be back in tonight. Nah, it turns out that girl I told you about is my Omega, after all. I gotta figure shit out with my pack. Mhm…. yeah. Nah, that's not a good idea…. Fuck, fine, yeah, sure. … No, that ain't necessary. …You can't keep saying they owe us one. You know they paid us back…. Fine, fine. Yeah, we'll take it." He hangs up the phone and looks between Cyrus and me.

"I got a place for all of us to stay if you want to work this shit out together."

Chapter six

It's been a longday. I worked through lunch like I usually do. Instead of going out and grabbing a fresh salad, I'm rocking the peanut butter sandwich sad desk lunch.

It is killing me that I cannot figure out this unidentified gene in Jordan Cross's genome. I'm making my head ache, and my eyes cross, trying to filter through other records to see where it popped up before.

But I've been at it long enough, and most of my coworkers have already left the Design Clinic, so I guess I need to call it a day. I can go home, grab a book, and spend the evening on the couch with my cat, Dae, short for Daedalus.

I understand that Daedalus was the father in the Icarus myth, but at least the names match.

I'm just packing up my messenger bag when my phone rings. "Dr. Valentine."

"Hi, Dr. Valentine. This is Ruby West from St. Michaels."

As I lean back in my chair, I brace myself for the unexpected. A call from St. Michaels could mean a long and unpredictable night. A mother is likely in labor, and I am the geneticist on call, so I have to be ready to test the genome. The Designers are very particular about it happening within the first two hours after birth, but I don't think there is sound scientific backing for that.

The Design Clinic is an interesting place to work. It is not without its controversies, most notably Plain Jane and the Perfect Omega, two instances where children were overdesigned to detrimental side effects. But since then, regulations have been put in place to limit the amount of Design work that can be done.

All proposed Designs have to be approved by a panel of physicians before they can be used.

It's not what I pictured myself doing when I went to med school. I wanted to be in research, and in a way I am. I just thought maybe I would be researching diseases or disorders and helping develop medicine for them. And while that isn't quite what I'm doing, I know I am making a difference in eradicating inherited diseases. I identify what each trait of the human genome does, which allows me to trick myself into thinking that my research won't be used for primarily cosmetic reasons.

"We have an Omega here who passed out at the grocery store. She had your card in her pocket, so we assume she's one of your patients."

"Do you have a name so I can look her up?"

"Jordan Cross."

I drop my phone.

It takes me a moment to scramble to get it back to my ear. My hands are sweaty, and I almost drop it several more times before I get out my next sentence."I'm sorry. Did you say you have an Omega named Jordan Cross?"

"Yes, sir. We're unsure why she fainted, and she's yet to wake up. We've confirmed she's not in heat, though she seems to have had a bit of a spike."

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