After My Mate Made Me an Omega

The first meeting was scheduled for ten a.m. in the conference room I used to prepare the night before—checking alliance records, reviewing scent-diplomatic protocols, making sure I knew which envoy preferred direct address and which required the formal third-person. Cassandra walked in at 10:03 with no files and a smile that looked rehearsed.

I stood against the back wall with the refreshment tray. Omega duties. The Nightridge envoy, Marcus Vane—Alpha Roland's second son—sat across from her with two of his pack's trade coordinators. I'd negotiated with Marcus four times. He respected precision. Hated empty pleasantries.

Cassandra opened with pleasantries.

"Welcome to Ironvale," she said, her voice warm and bright. "We're so honored to host such distinguished guests."

Marcus's expression didn't change. One of the coordinators glanced at me. I kept my face blank.

Cassandra continued. "I wanted to personally ensure that our alliance remains as strong as ever. If there's anything Ironvale can do to support Nightridge, please don't hesitate to ask."

Marcus leaned forward slightly. "Actually, there is. The grain shipment clause in the trade agreement—section four, subsection two. We'd like to renegotiate the seasonal allocation."

Cassandra blinked. "Of course. We can certainly adjust that."

I went very still.

Marcus pulled out a document. "Specifically, we're requesting an additional fifteen percent during winter months, given the increased demand from our northern border packs."

"That sounds reasonable," Cassandra said. She was nodding. Actually nodding.

The trade coordinator on Marcus's left—a woman named Iris who I'd worked with directly—looked at me again. Her scent shifted. Not anger. Concern.

I knew why. The fifteen percent Marcus was requesting would violate the resource-balancing clause I'd built into the original agreement. The one that protected Ironvale's reserves during lean seasons. The one that kept the alliance equal instead of extractive. Cassandra had just agreed to gut it without even reading the file.

Marcus's scent changed too. Not satisfaction. Confusion. Like he'd expected resistance and wasn't sure what to do with the absence of it.

"Wonderful," he said slowly. "We'll draft the amendment and send it over."

"Perfect." Cassandra's smile was bright and empty. "And please, send my regards to Alpha Roland. We so value Nightridge's friendship."

Marcus stood. His coordinators followed. As they passed me on their way out, Iris met my eyes for half a second. Her expression said everything her mouth couldn't.

The door closed. Cassandra exhaled and touched her hair. "That went well, I think."

I said nothing. Set the untouched refreshment tray on the table and left.

That evening, Desmond came to the Omega quarters. He didn't knock. Just opened the door and stood in the frame, his face tight.

"You're off table service," he said. "Effective immediately."

I looked up from the cot. "Why?"

"Because I said so."

His jaw was doing that thing it did when he was angry but trying not to show it. I'd seen it a hundred times. Usually right before he blamed me for something that wasn't my fault.

"Understood," I said.

He stared at me for a long moment. Like he was waiting for me to ask what I'd done wrong. I didn't. Finally, he turned and walked away.

I pressed my hand against the floorboard and felt the box hum.

Small, I thought. Telling.

The twins' visit came two days later. Georgina escorted them to the garden herself, her hand on Maddox's shoulder like she owned him. A Delta followed three steps behind. I was already waiting on the stone bench near the roses.

Maddox saw me and pulled free. Ran straight into my arms. Dawson followed, slower but just as sure. I held them both and felt their wolves press toward me—harder than last time, urgent and insistent.

Then Desmond appeared.

He walked across the lawn with two wrapped boxes, his stride easy and public. Loud enough for the perimeter wolves to hear. "There are my boys," he said. His voice carried. Warm. Fatherly. Performed.

He knelt in front of them and held out the boxes. "I got you something. Open them."

Maddox took his box slowly. Unwrapped it. Training gear. Small, fitted for a child, but real. The kind Betas wore. Dawson's box held the same.

"You're going to be strong," Desmond said. He was smiling. "Both of you. Future Betas of Ironvale. Just like I promised."

Maddox looked at the gear. Then at me. Then he stepped to my side and pressed against my leg, the training gear still in his hands.

Dawson did the same. He didn't say anything. Just looked up at Desmond with that direct, unfiltered gaze children have before they learn to lie.

Desmond's smile tightened. "Don't you want to say thank you?"

"Thank you," Maddox said quietly. He didn't move away from me.

Desmond stood. His scent shifted—just slightly, just enough for me to catch. Frustration. He looked at me. At the twins pressed against my sides. At the way their wolves were straining toward something he couldn't see.

"You're welcome," he said. Then he turned and walked away.

Georgina's expression was ice. But she didn't say anything. Just gestured to the Delta. Time was almost up.

I knelt in front of the twins. Cupped their faces. "What did I tell you?"

"Trust what our wolf knows," Maddox whispered.

Dawson leaned in close. His breath was warm against my ear. "Mama. Dad smells wrong."

I went very still.

"Not like pack," Maddox added. His voice was small. Confused. "Not like home."

Dawson pulled back and looked at me. His eyes were too serious. "You smell like Alpha."

I didn't correct them. I kissed their foreheads and let the Delta take them away.

Then I sat alone in the garden and felt the pressure at the base of my spine coil tighter.

The healer-coordination meeting was the following afternoon. I arrived early with the refreshment tray and set it on the side table. Cassandra swept in three minutes late, wearing whites that were almost but not quite the right shade. The senior healer, Maren, sat at the head of the table. She'd trained under my mother's recommendation. Worked with me for six years. Her face was carefully neutral.

The junior trainee—a girl named Lila, maybe twenty, with perfect hair and a family connection to Georgina—sat across from her.

Cassandra opened the meeting with another empty smile. "Let's begin. Are there any issues we need to address?"

Maren's voice was calm. "Yes. Emergency supply allocation. Lila requisitioned half the winterroot stock for a training exercise. We need that reserve for actual emergencies."

Lila's chin lifted. "I was told I had discretion over training resources."

"Not emergency reserves," Maren said. "That's protocol."

Cassandra looked between them. Her fingers tapped the table. She had no idea what winterroot was used for. I could see it in her face.

"Well," she said slowly. "Training is important. And Lila is doing excellent work."

Maren's scent shifted. Fury, barely contained. "With respect, Luna, emergency protocol exists for a reason."

Cassandra's smile thinned. "I'm sure we can make an exception."

I set down the refreshment tray. The sound was quiet but deliberate. Every head in the room turned.

I looked at Maren. Then at Lila. Then at Cassandra.

"Winterroot takes six months to cultivate," I said. My voice was calm. Even. "If we deplete the reserve now, we won't have coverage until next spring. But training exercises can use dried stock from last season's surplus without compromising emergency capacity. Lila gets her training resources. Maren keeps the reserve intact. Everyone's needs are met."

Silence.

Maren's shoulders dropped. Relief.

Lila looked at Cassandra. Waiting for her to object.

Cassandra's smile didn't reach her eyes. "That sounds... fine."

I picked up the tray and walked out.

That evening, Georgina revoked my kitchen access. No reason given. Just a new lock on the door and a note slipped under my quarters: *Omegas use communal facilities only.*

I sat on the cot and pulled up the floorboard. The box hummed beneath my fingers.

Not yet, I thought. But soon.

I was done absorbing.

I was ready to spend.