"You haven't introduced yourself," I point out, letting a hint of challenge enter my tone.
"No," she agrees, seeming amused by my observation. "I haven't."
We're interrupted by the buzz of my phone — probably Carter wondering where I am.Again.The sound breaks the tension in the room, and the woman steps back slightly, giving me space.
"You should finish your paperwork," she says, her tone shifting to something more professional. "We'll have plenty of time to talk later."
"Later?" I echo, but she's already turning to leave, her movements as precise and controlled as when she entered.
At the doorway, she pauses, looking back over her shoulder. "A piece of advice, Ms. Abercrombie?" Her lips curve into that knowing smirk again. "Sometimes the most effective rebellion isn't in how loudly you fight, but in how strategically you choose your battles."
With that cryptic statement hanging in the air, she's gone, leaving only the faint scent of jasmine and the echo of her heels clicking down the hallway.
I stare at the empty doorway for a long moment, my mind racing with questions. The forms in front of me suddenly seem less important, less binding, as if that brief encounter has shifted something fundamental in my understanding of what's possible.
An Omega with that much presence, that much control over her own destiny — it challenges everything I thought I knew about our place in this hierarchy.
My phone buzzes again, more insistently this time. I pick it up to find three messages from Carter:
"Where are you?"
"Holmes is getting pissy."
"If you're starting trouble without me, I'm going to be very disappointed."
I can't help but smile at his messages, even as my mind continues to process the strange encounter. Something tells me I've just stepped into a game much bigger than the usual academy politics — one with rules I don't yet understand and players I can't identify.
Looking back at the forms, I notice something I missed before: a small symbol in the corner of the last page, barely visible unless you know how to look for it. It's not part of the academy's usual letterhead — just three interlocked circles, rendered in such light grey it's almost invisible.
The devil's in the details, my father's voice reminds me.
I trace the symbol with my fingertip, wondering what other surprises this day has in store. One thing's certain: that purple-haired Omega is more than she appears, and something tells me our paths are going to cross again soon.
With a hesitant breath, I look at the pen in my grasp, and back at the papers before me. The sound of the pen hitting the pile of unsigned documents leaves a thrum of defiance through me.
“Maybe she’s right,” I whisper to myself, hoping to be as convincing when I’m confronted about not singing the fine print. “Rules are meant to be broken.”
Past Meets Present
~ELIZABETH~
My phone buzzes with another text from Carter as I exit the administrative office.
"Second floor, east wing, near the dance studios. Don't keep us waiting too long."
I type back quickly.
"Meeting you later. Need to handle something first."
His response is immediate.
"Documents taking that long?"
"No."I reply, hesitating before adding,"Just need to think. The forms...they'd mean another Thanksgiving without seeing Dad and…"
I pause again, wondering if I’m sharing too much of my life by admitting that. I swallow the lump of anxiety filling my throat, deciding if I want to learn to be a good Omega, I have to be willing to open up a little as well.
“My Dad was a bit disappointed when I said I wouldn’t be allowed to go to Thanksgiving this year because of my mateless status…so…I just don’t want to sign them yet. Delaying the inevitable but…um…”