Page 41 of The Omega Trials: Part Three

Much like I did at the beginning of the Trials, Merigold has been avoiding her alphas as much as possible. She’s been spending a lot of time in our wing, and I’ve found I don’t totally hate her company . . . . I may evenlikeher.

Plus, the gown fitting was a welcome distraction while my alphas meet with some of the most powerful men in the city. Ecker insisted I come along, but I declined. I am secure in my role within this pack now. I don’t need to be included in this meeting to prove it.

Another thing I don’t need proof of is the deep-seated misogyny that seems woven into the DNA of all powerful men. Maybe if this wasn’t our one shot, I would have taken him up on his offer, but it is. I’ll pick and choose my battles to win the war.

And I might as well look stunning while I do it. The black dress is truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn. The high-fitted waist tops a subtle mermaid skirt with a daring slit up one side. The off-the-shoulder neckline is capped with short sleeves and has a plunging V in the notched bodice.

“I’m out of pins,” Penelope mumbles under her breath, but before she can get up, I ask Merigold to grab them for her.

“They’re right next to that notebook—” I hold my breath, immediately regretting asking.Why did I just leave the diary lying out like that?

I’m internally cursing myself and praying Merigold doesn’t notice when: “Is that an azure aster?” Merigold tilts her head to get a better look at the leather journal without picking it up. “That’s the Azurite symbol. Is that from the vault?”

I swallow and debate my options. Merigold certainly has her flaws, but stupidity isn’t one of them. If I lie and she can tell, we might lose the fragile trust we’ve built. Something we can’t risk happening right before the ball. Same logic applies if I try to get away with only telling her half the picture.

We demanded she be brutally honest, so it’s only fair that I am too.

“No, it’s not from the vault. It was my great-great-grandmother’s. Four generations ago, she was an Azurite omega that ran away during the Trials.”

Merigold’s jaw literally drops. “Oh. My.God.You’re an Azurite omega.”

“Yeah.” I grimace with a half-shrug.

“No, no, you don’t get it.” She waves her hands frantically. “You’retheAzurite omega.”

“What do you mean?” I ask and feel Penelope freeze where she’s working behind me.

“Your great-great-grandmother was thelastAzurite-born omega.”

I try to process her words. “But what about Philomena?”

“She’s originally a Cobalt. All omegas since your grandma ran away have been from other families. The Azurites are terrified their bloodline is going to disappear. I’m assuming the Elders don’t know?” I shake my head. Her eyes grow wide. “Oh my god, do you know what this means?”

It feels like the blood drains from my face. “I have no idea.”

“Me either.” She laughs, almost manically. “But this gives us one hell of a wild card—or joker or—I don’t know card games!” she excitedly shouts. “All I know is this issomething.”

When the guys come back from the meeting, Merigold has already left and I’ve changed into one of Titus’s giant tee shirts that fits me like a comfy dress while Penelope works on alterations for the gown. I leap off the couch as soon as they enter.

“How did it go?” I wasn’t feeling too nervous until Merigold went to have dinner with her pack. The new information about the Azurites left me reeling.

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” Ecker shrugs and drops into the armchair.

I pry for more. “So, they agreed—wait, where’s Titus?” I look to the door like he’s going to walk in, right on cue.

Ecker gets an unreadable smirk on his face, and I turn to Bishop for clarity. He gives nothing away with a subtle lift of his shoulders.

“Is he okay?” My heart picks up pace anxiously, even though I know he must be fine if they are acting so lackadaisical.

“Seventeen, I think this is where you come in,” Bishop says encouragingly.

“Oh, yes, sir.” She squeaks and jumps up from where she’s working. “Omega, would you please come with me?”

“Okay . . .” I follow her to the door. Realizing we’re about to leave the wing, I ask, “Do I need shoes?”

She looks down at my bare feet for a beat, then says unconvincingly, “Um . . . no?”

“No, you’re fine,” Ecker says with more surety and a light laugh.

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