Page 35 of Redeeming His Omega Mate

As I turned to leave, Damian’s hand gently caught my arm. I froze, glancing back to find him watching me intently, his eyes searching mine.

“Tala, are you okay? You look…flustered.”

“Yeah, of course.” I quickly shrugged my arm free, hyper-aware that people might be watching. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

I led Damian to the town hall, where Omegas were already pouringin and settling down at long communal tables. I’d planned for him to sit with the community leader, but that plan was quickly derailed when a group of excited children tugged at his coat, insisting he join them and tell stories about past Alphas. Ironic, I thought.

Shaking my head, I made my way to the community leader’s table instead. Brad, a man in his late sixties with silver-streaked hair, greeted me warmly. I’d known of him for some time, though we’d never had a personal conversation. His reputation as a voice of wisdom and calm in the slums preceded him.

“You’ve done something remarkable today,” Brad said, his deep voice cutting through the hum of conversation. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen this kind of attention from the pack leadership.”

I offered a polite smile. “It’s long overdue.”

The town hall buzzed with conversation as the community lunch carried on, warm bowls of stew being passed from hand to hand along the long wooden tables. Laughter rose and fell, mixing with the clatter of spoons and the rustle of shifting chairs. Each time someone laughed, a little warmth settled in my chest. Everyone sat shoulder to shoulder, sharing food, stories, and the comfort of familiar company. Children ran between the tables, their giggles spilling into the air as they ducked and weaved around the legs of smiling adults.

My eyes flickered to Damian, who was laughing at something one of the kids beside him had said. A small smile tugged at my lips. He was good with children—patient, easygoing, and attentive. Watching him, I had no doubt he’d make a great father. The thought stirred an ache in me, followed by guilt. But I pushed it down, turning my attention back to my food.

The first sign of trouble came in the form of hushed murmurs rippling through the crowd, harsh whispers, tight-lipped expressions, and glances edged with disdain. At first, it barely registered with me. But then, Damian stood, and the murmurs faded. All eyes turned to him as he stepped forward, commanding the room without a single word.

His gaze swept across the hall, and I saw genuine joy light up his face as he took in the sight before him. This was more than just agathering. It was history in the making, something no leader before him had dared to do.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice steady and deep. “First, I want to thank each of you for being here today,” he began. “I know you have no reason to give us your time, not after everything. For too many years, we have failed to do what is right.”

A hush settled over the crowd as his words took hold. He let the silence stretch. Then he continued, his tone solemn.

“Words alone can’t make up for the pain this pack has caused you. I know that trust isn’t freely given, and I don’t expect it. But what I do want, what I will prove, is that things can be different. That we can be better.”

Some heads nodded in quiet agreement. Others remained still, arms crossed, eyes wary.

“What about the supplies you promised us?” A sharp voice laced with suspicion cut through the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention to the back of the hall.

“The supplies will be distributed by the end of the day,” Damian assured. “No one will leave empty-handed.”

A few shoulders seemed loosened at that, and some of the tension in the room ebbed. Damian continued his speech, speaking of unity, change, and a future where no one in the pack would have to suffer as they had.

Then, an Omega rose. He was old, his face lined with years of hardship. His fists clenched at his sides.

“You think we’re fools, Alpha?” His voice was cold, heavy with anger and bitterness. “My father died in the Omega-Beta war. My mother suffocated because we couldn’t afford to leave the polluted sectors. My younger sister—” his voice cracked slightly, but he pushed on. “She died because the medicine that could have saved her was too expensive. And where were the Alphas then? Where were you?”

A wave of unease swept through the crowd. The room felt tighter, the air thick with the weight of the building tension. Expressions shifted to grief, anger, and pain, all stirred by memories of their past.

Another Omega stood. “He’s right! Where were you, Alpha, when I lost my home in the storm last year?”

Then another. And another.

One after the other, they rose, voices raised in grief and anger, demanding answers that no apology could ever truly give.

My gaze darted between each Omega who stood, struggling to grasp how we had shifted from a light, carefree lunch to this. I barely had time to process the change before one of the volunteers appeared at my side, her face pale.

“Tala,” she whispered urgently. “The supplies. They’re gone.”

A sharp chill ran through me.

“What?” I breathed, my pulse quickening.

“The storage crates… they’re empty. Someone must have taken everything.”

Brad turned to me, his expression tightening. “The supplies are gone?” His voice was barely above a whisper, laced with fear. “If the Omegas find out that there are no supplies…”

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