Page 7 of Carmichael's Omega

I can't trust an omega. Never again.

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I shift back to feet just after cresting the last rocky hill before the packhouse. Long and low, the tan, adobe, and terracotta building is shaped like a fortress.

"Alphason," the wolf patrolling our interior border nods in acknowledgment.

"Papáhome or here?" I ask him.

"At his home,Jefe," comes the quiet answer.

"Renee and Nico?" I ask.

"Enla casa grande,Jefe," he responds. "Alpha asked for privacy."

I suppress the growl. I moved out of myPapá'shouse years before I left for college. It'sPapá'splace to get away from the unrelenting pressure of being Alpha. Still, I hate to think of Nicolás and Renee at the packhouse instead of with our father.

I wonder if Cassidy is left out of her family? Do they accept an omega truly? Or is she forced to beg, cajole, manipulate, and defraud her packmates into guaranteeing her safety?

I roll my shoulders, uncomfortable with the thought that Cassidy has to act like... well, an omega.

I walk the rest of the way to the packhouse. At the doors, I hesitate. When I swing them open, I cringe a little. The scent of weed and sex floats through the air, even here, at the main entrance. In the teen quarters, I know it'll be worse.

I would never bring Cassidy here.

Hell, I would never bring anyone here. It's fucking embarrassing. This is what happens when the Luna dies.

Fuckingomegas.

It's with a heavier step that I walk to the back. Just like I thought, the air is thick with smoke. I can hear the sounds of fucking from the alcove to the common area.

“Carm!No mames!" Nico stumbles toward me, his eyes a glassy red. As nude as I am, he has two females stoned on the couch.

They are pack; young teenagers, but a couple of years older than Nico. They reek of more than one male. My wolf curls his lip. Trash.Putas.

Chale. I can't ever bring Cassie here. I catch Nico when he falls into me, laughing and high as a kite. I was him not so long ago. Then I realized that not one of these females loved me, and I sure as fuck don't love them. I still fuck them. Fucked them. No female appeals to me anymore but the one I can't have.

"Why'ya home?" Nico slurs.

"To see how my pack is," I tell him in a grating, deep voice. Too deep. Nico pulls away, looking comically surprised. The two females prove to be more sensible than I thought, both practically running from the room.

"What's wrong, Carm?" Nico coughs.

"Where'sPapá?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

Nico scoffs. He walks to the couch and sits, slumped and forlorn. The once-beautiful black lacquer coffee table in front of him is stained and filthy. A blunt, still lit, sits on an old copy of Hustler.

"Gone. As usual. Walked in here... couple of hours ago. Looked. Left."

"He didn't say anything?" I snap out.

"Wasn't like this," Nico says quietly, waving his hand around his head.

I know it wasn't. The air wouldn't have been choked with pot smoke. Or fucking. It would have at least resembled a normal pack. But oncePapáleaves, he stays gone, sometimes for days. Business, he calls it, but who knows what he's really up to for hours on end? Sunk into a depression at home, missingmama, most likely.

"Where's Renee?"

Nico shrugs. "I don't know,Jefe."

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