Chapter 185

Sarah POV

Zane warned me about Scott, but I didn’t realize how much he was downplaying his half-brother’s less desirous qualities, to put it mildly.

Actually, he gave me the creeps, and I can’t help but think that if I’d been told about Scott, if I’d met him before Zane and I announced our engagement, I might not have agreed to mate Zane.

To Zane’s credit, he never tried to hide Scott from me, not even that his mother was an omega. Frankly, if she were still alive, I’d break my engagement. Can you imagine? An omega in-law?

It seemed almost as if I could smell her omega filth on Scott, as though it were seeping from his skin. Of course, I can’t blame Scott and Zane’s father for bedding her, breeding her. We all know what they’re like.

The worst part of the evening was he seemed to want to TELL ME about her! Why in the world would I care that her name was Amanda and that she liked to walk in the park.

I also can’t help thinking that this evening was some sort of test. Could I stand to sit there and make small talk with his omega-born half-brother? If so, I’m sure I passed.

Zane does have some odd ideas about equality among wolves and with humans, but I don’t suspect him of being an omega sympathizer. In fact, I like some of his odd ideas. I would like to help make the territory a strong place for my children to grow up in, and Cavendish Territory is almost 30 percent human.

I’ll see to it that my children go to the right schools and meet appropriate partners, but having human friends is not out of the question, not at all. I’ve met some perfectly lovely humans, and they do seem to have strengths outside the realm of wolves to make up for their obvious weaknesses.

When I told Ella about Scott some months ago, she seemed more intrigued than horrified. She and I never talk politics. I remember she showed me her handbag, which had been made by an omega cooperative, Omega, Inc., I think she said. I told her she should keep that to herself, and she just laughed.

I had to put Olivia’s journal down and just let all that hatred settle in my mind.

Did Zane ever explain to Olivia that omegas made up the Luna Temple? If so, did it make any difference to her? Can that sort of bigotry actually be overcome?

I realized my phone was in my hand about ten seconds before I was dialing a familiar number. I really expected it to just go to voicemail, but Melissa answered.

“Sarah? What’s up?”

“I want to interview an omega on Let’s Talk!”

“Oh, dear. Sarah, that’s very dangerous.”

“There’s an omega cooperative that makes handbags and probably other leather goods. Omega, Inc.” With my free hand I opened my laptop and found it. “I’m looking it up now.”

“Me too.”

We were quiet while the site loaded up. It was a streamlined site with a simple explanation of their mission. Omega members took a vow of chastity, which meant, I read, that they would not have sex outside of a mate-bond. They did indeed work with leather goods to raise money for the cooperative.

What I found most interesting was what the site lacked. There was no page listing major donors. There were no photos of people’s faces, just figures working on scraps of leather. There was one artistic shot of a male omega’s hands pounding grommets into what looked like leather pants.

Faceless, nameless, unclaimed.

“They’re in Orleans Territory.”

“Makes sense. Looks like they basically took over an island about fifty years ago, like some sort of leper colony.”

“You sound angry. Are you OK?”

“Do you wolves really not understand that omegas are born the way they are? It’s infuriating to me that even wolves who support human equality treat omegas like abominations.”

“You’re talking about a lot of generational prejudice. Every wolf has the birthright to say to themselves, ‘I’m not an omega,’ and take comfort from that. Is it right? No. It’s not.”

“I want to interview one of these omegas. I want to talk about the good work they’re doing.”

“And when you lose your public voice, your online image?”

“If I can’t talk about this, what good is my public voice?”

“If you talk about it and no one listens, it is worth the sacrifice?”

“So, you won’t help me with this?”

“I never said that. Look, we’ll need to lead up to this in stages. We’ll do some segments on wolf equality, and we can discuss omegas tangentially with other wolves in need, orphans and the poor, that sort of thing. And then when we do talk to one of these artisans from the cooperative, if we can get someone to do it, we’ll talk to a male omega.”

“Why?”

“It’s sexist as all get-out, but male omegas are just not as scandalous as females, probably because they can’t have pups.”

“So, you’ll help me.”

“Looks like it.” Melissa laughed. “You just don’t do things by halves, do you?”

“Guess not.”

“Look, I’m going to be over your way in two days. Wanna meet for lunch?”

“Sounds good.”

We exchanged details and hung up. I sat on my bed and felt daring and terrified at once. I reached for Olivia’s journal, but then I ended up going back online instead.

I searched for Scott’s mother, Amanda. It took a while, considering I had to read through reams of comments, none of them flattering, about omegas, but eventually I found a link to an article someone had cut from a newspaper and scanned in.

Omega Dies in Hit-and-Run

Amanda Rivers, omega mother to Alpha Zane’s half-brother, Scott Cavendish, died last night in a single-car accident.

“Death would have been instantaneous,” Detective Ysir Afsed told us when we called him. “She was pinned between the car that hit her and a brick wall.”

There were no witnesses to the accident and details about the car are few. Analysis of the black paint revealed a popular brand, and the tire marks from where the car skidded before impact show a popular tire brand.

Alpha Zane has offered a $10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest of the driver of the car. When asked for comment, he said only, “I am sorry for my brother and ask that the public give him privacy to grieve for his mother.”

And that was it. There was no follow-up article I could find, except for a small announcement of the funeral. It all seemed so sad and small.

I didn’t trust Scott. I didn’t like Scott. I couldn’t help but feel for a boy whose mother was treated as a social pariah, killed in a senseless accident and then quickly buried and forgotten.