Page 49 of The Omega Trials: Part Three

A half hour in, I’m able to make eye contact with Merigold from a distance. She swirls her glass of wine before taking a sip—our signal that everything is set on her end. My heart races. I keep having to wipe my sweaty palms on my dress.

“Relax, baby girl,” Ecker whispers calmingly in my ear, his hand on my waist tugging me closer.

I spot the Azurite and Cyan Elders crossing the room toward a small stage in the center of the hall. Watching them glide across the floor in their long black cloaks feels like watching executioners approach the guillotine.

I try to focus on the soothing feel of Ecker’s thumb lightly stroking my side. I look at Bishop and find his calm stoicism reassuring. Just like when I turn to Titus, his sharp alertness and eyes constantly scanning the room from behind his mask comforts me. They all help steady me in different ways. Together, they make me the best version of myself.

With a renewed sense of confidence, I return my gaze to the Elders as they climb the steps to the stage.

While they made their way, others moved in the crowd. Merigold discreetly shifted closer to us and Paisley as the Beryll alphas casually repositioned themselves between the Cyans and our pack. The Berylls don’t know the details of what’s to come, but they know that Merigold might need protection, so we’ve done our best to subtly flank her. Even though they don’t know the truth about Eric’s death, after the Loyalty Trial, they’re all ready to back Merigold against her alphas.

The Azurite steps up to the mic’d lectern, and I force my lungs to take a deep breath. I can practically hear the ticking of a clock in my head.

He begins his address. “Noble gentlemen and omegas, it is our great privilege to gather with this esteemed crowd to herald in another fine generation to the ranks of the Echelon of the Lourdes Bacleon.”

I can’t imagine the nerves Merigold must be feeling right now. Inconspicuously, I steal a glance at her. Her long blonde hair hangs in glamorous Hollywood waves down her back. She holdsherself tall and proud in a luxurious burgundy gown. She is the very essence of silent strength, beautiful but deadly.

She catches my eye, and I give her a small, but hopefully encouraging, nod. Her lips twitch with the subtlest of smiles. I hope she knows how proud I am of her.

“Courage, vigilance, intelligence, loyalty, and fortitude. These are the pillars of our great organization, the defining qualities that separate the noble-born from those of humble birth.” Azurite delivers his speech with genuine conviction.

As if any of this bullshit is righteous. There’s nothing righteous about manipulation, oppression, and classism. That now-so-familiar sense of injustice spirits inside me, replacing my churning nerves with anger.

“The packs we welcome today have been tried. They’ve been tested and have come back victorious. It is my great honor to announce the final score of the Trials and induct—” His voice cuts out despite his mouth still moving.

When he notices he’s is no longer amplified, he leans closer to the mic, but we can’t hear anything in the crowd. Instead, there are hushed whispers and people looking around, trying to see what the problem is.

Azurite taps the mic, and sound returns with the crackle of a speaker. But when he starts speaking, it’s not his voice we hear.

It’s Merigold’s.

A recorded conversation now plays loud and clear throughout the entire hall. Everyone stills and silents immediately, listening with intent curiosity.

“Yves, Yves?” It sounds like she’s trying to get his attention in the recording. “Yves Alexander Cyan, you can’t avoid talking about this forever,” she snaps.2

I look at Yves. He’s gone pale as a sheet, and his eyes are frozen wide in horror, as he must recognize the conversation.

“What’s there to talk about? What’s done is done,” Yves’s voice says on the speaker.

Merigold replies, “You didn’t have to kill him. Eric didn’t deserve that—”

“He got exactly what he deserved!” Yves shouts on the tape, and several people flinch in the crowd. His father, the Cyan Elder on the stage, tries frantically to pull wires out of the lectern, probably trying to turn it off. But that won’t work.

“He wasn’t loyal,” Yves tries to justify.

“He was loyal tome,” Merigold argues, and Yves only scoffs.

“You can’t be loyal to a whore.” His cold sneer still gives me chills despite having heard this all before.

But Merigold doesn’t let his disrespect get to her. She presses on, carefully crafting questions to implicate him and his father. “If he deserved it, then why did you get your father to cover it up?”

There’s a communal gasp in the crowd. It shakes Yves out of his stupor, and he tries to grab Merigold, but Titus and Griffin both jump in front of her to intercede. My heart pounds in my throat. Ecker pushes me behind him.

The recording keeps playing in the background. “I wasn’t going to go down because some bitch ass alpha decided to grow a conscience. There’s no room for that at the top.”

“There’s no room for morals?” Merigold laughs over the speaker. “Well, you said it, not me.”

The recording ends.

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