Page 27 of Sweet Omega

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Pitra’s laughter echoed around Tarymn, grating on his nerves. “You’re just as worried about him as I am.”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Tarymn snapped. “I wouldn’t have offered to pick him up if I didn’t care. I told him to connect with me when he’s done.”

Relief burst out of Pitra in a loud exhale. “Oh, thank God. I couldn’t stand the thought of him crammed into a shuttle with a stranger. He’s such a timid little thing. He makes me want to wrap him up and never let go.”

Yeah. And his crippling social anxiety didn’t help, Tarymn thought with a weary sigh. He turned away, letting his gaze settle on the city outside the window. Towers gleamed under the fading light, and in the distance the silhouettes of the UA facilities rose above the skyline.

“Are you ready?” Pitra asked from the operator’s seat.

Tarymn sighed heavily.

“You don’t sound excited,” Pitra teased, laughter slipping through his words.

“I’m not,” Tarymn admitted. “I hate play days. I come because I have to. It’s part of being an alpha in the council. Fighting each other is the only way we know our place. It’s so barbaric.”

“I know, but it’s necessary,” Pitra said. “Even though we’ve moved away from pack life, there are rules we have to live by, or our society will crumble.”

Tarymn’s lips curled. “Rules or not, it doesn’t make the whole thing any less barbaric,” he muttered.

Pitra said nothing, focusing on threading the pod through thick traffic until he found a slot in the dome’s crowded lot. The pod eased to a stop. Tarymn slid out, his shoulders already stiffening as he approached the looming doors. He shoved one open, and the flood of bright light seared his vision, forcing him to blink rapidly as he descended the row of empty seats. No matter how much he claimed to hate their play day, the sphere always managed to steal his breath away.

“I thought I told you to take a break,” Deltta said as Tarymn stepped close to the cage.

“You know I couldn’t miss our play day,” Tarymn replied, his eyes sweeping over the other alphas already changed intotraining gear. On the far side, Langley was warming up alone, rolling his shoulders with lazy indifference. His lackeys were nowhere in sight.

Odd. They were usually glued to him like shadows.Tarymn’s eyes narrowed on the alpha as he said, “I wouldn’t want certain people thinking I’m weak.”

“Don’t lose your cool,” Deltta said, following his gaze. “We don’t need things to get worse before we figure out what’s going on.”

“I won’t,” Tarymn promised, giving Deltta’s back a friendly slap. “Let me find Wulfric, he said he’d be here.”

“We’ll be starting soon,” Deltta reminded him.

“I won’t take long.”

Tarymn walked around the cage and was about to push the double doors that led to the dressing rooms open, when he froze, mid-step, as familiar voices drifted toward him.

Pharyi. Biwen. Gyry.

His muscles went taut, breath stilled in his chest. He tilted his head, focusing on each word they were saying.

“Did he say why Deltta rejected the request?” Biwen asked cautiously. “Do you think they know?”

“No. Langley’s an incompetent fool. He doesn’t know anything,” Pharyi sneered. “He barely reads the documents I compile for him.”

“What do you think is going on?” Gyry asked.

“I don’t know,” Pharyi said. “But it doesn’t matter. Even if they uncover something, it won’t come back to us.”

Tarymn’s heart lurched, hammering hard against his ribs. Fuck.

He backed away quickly, retreating the way he came, pulse roaring in his ears. Pharyi. The bastard had been pulling the strings all along.

When he got closer to the cage, the roar of the crowd hit him like a wall. Deltta was already in the cage with Maxus, the two of them trading brutal blows while the other alphas shouted and cheered.

Tarymn sank into the nearest chair, his mind spinning. He couldn’t wrap his head around what he’d just overheard, each word still echoing in his mind. It felt unreal, like he’d slipped into a waking dream where nothing made sense.

Deltta emerged a few seconds later, sweat slicking his skin, a triumphant grin carved across his face. He fucking thrived on this, lived for it. Maxus trailed behind him, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms high over his head, still catching his breath.