Prophecy

I met Remington Tate when I was only fourteen years old. My parents were killed in a border raid, leaving me under the reluctant care of the pack's foster system—a glorified excuse for emotional neglect and hard training.

They thought they were getting a warrior out of me, but my wolf was nowhere to be found and that made me an anomaly. A burden, a disgrace... an omega.

You'd think I killed somebody with the way everyone started treating me. People whispered, elders avoided eye contact and the other kids made sure I knew exactly what they thought about me.

All that bullying and neglect made me a shy, insecure little girl who would simply accept the bullshit that came my way with my head down and my mouth shut.

Until Remington.

He was three years older than me. Strong. Already carrying the scent of a future alpha. He was the first one who looked at me and didn't see a defective person. He saw a different kind of warrior with another set of skills. He taught me how to punch with my whole body, how to climb trees with bare hands, how to speak back without flinching and how to go for the killing shot every time.

He was brave, confident and kind. And he had a thing for the underdogs. The runt of the pack, the weakest link. Whether it was a person—me—or a little duckling, or a baby bird or even a snake that wouldn’t hatch, he couldn’t help himself. He always had to do something about it. And I loved that about him.

We quickly became more than just training buddies, he was my best friend for a long time and even if I always liked him, nothing romantic happened between un until a few years later when I turned eighteen and the bond happened.

I still remember the exact second it snapped into place. My body locking. My breath catching. His eyes—widening like he'd felt it too. I Immediately knew it was fate. And it was fucking beautiful for a while.

Just one year, that's all we had.

"Thank you for coming," Remington says after those prolonged seconds of silence, snapping me out of my thoughts, "The rogue attacks in other packs are getting worse. And they're targeting omegas, kidnapping them. You’re not safe out there, Ivy.”

I knew about the omega attacks already, from word of mouth, but an Alpha talking about it just makes it more real.

"Did you gather every single omega in the pack for a meeting here?” I ask, Remington shakes his head, “Oh, just me? Why? And how did you even know I’m back?”

“People stopped harassing me about you a few years ago, but it kicked back up around a month ago. They’ve been asking me about you nonstop, so I knew it meant you were around again,” he responds, looking at me with tired eyes. Ha! For the first time ever, I’m glad people are so incredibly annoying, “And no, I didn’t gather every omega here, but I am helping them. In other ways.”

He always says so much without saying shit. The older the got, the less words he started using, until he just started talking in fucking riddles like the rest of the Council.

“Hm… what makes me so special, Alpha?” I ask with a mocking tone, fluttering my eyelashes to him. I see his mouth get even tighter, “Am I still getting blamed for everything bad that happens in the world?”

“You’ll know in a minute,” he responds.

“Nah, I’d like to know what I’m going up against before walking inside the Lion’s den,” I say, crossing my arms. I don’t think he suddenly cares about me, so many years later, “Did you tell everyone in the Council I’m back and that means trouble? Or did they just feel the air changing and started cursing my name again? Tell me or I’ll walk away.”

A beat passes, then he takes a deep breath and relaxes his body just a little bit. Finally, he doesn’t look like a rigid statue.

"You know why they’re scared of you, Ivy. It’s because of the prophecy,” he responds quietly, making me bite the inside of my cheek.

The prophecy.

The one that speaks of a powerful omega with fire in her blood who was only born to bring chaos wherever she goes. Like a curse.

I always thought it was just a story the elders told to keep lowborns like me shameful and quiet, not wanting to be seen as the chaotic omega in those ancient books. For a long time, it worked on me, it made me feel ashamed just to be alive.

After a while, though, I just stopped giving a shit. Every time someone brought up the prophesy to me, I would roll my eyes and respond with a bad word because that became my defense mechanism.

But then… my wolf finally woke up.

It was like fifteen years too late and she was filled with so much chaotic energy, it made me reconsider absolutely everything.

And now, I have to keep my mouth shut and be very, very careful around that subject.

"I’m not exactly an omega anymore," I admit, waiting to see if there's any surprise in his eyes, but there isn't. Of course, he feels it. And the Council will feel it too. That’s why I have to be careful but honest to an extent, "Alright then, Alpha, let’s get going. I have plans tonight.”

I turn to head inside, but Remington's voice stops me.

"Happy 26th birthday,” he says, surprising me a lot. I did not expect him to remember my birthday or my age, not at all. But I simply murmur ‘thank you’ and continue walking, “Ivy…”

I sigh and turn my head just enough to look at him.

"What?”

"I never stopped feeling the bond,” he admits. My spine stiffens, my breath stutters in my throat, and my fingers curl into fists at my sides.

How dare he say that to me after everything? Those are useless words. Borderline cruel, actually.

"I don't care," I spit out, turning back around and starting to walk once again. He follows me this time, "The bond doesn't mean anything anymore. You made sure of that."

Remington doesn’t respond because there’s nothing he can say. He stopped being outspoken and brave when he turned eighteen. That’s when he became a politician who’s always saving face.

He’s nothing but a fucking piece of chess now. A waste of time. A waste of love. I bet he wouldn’t stop to save a baby bird anymore, he would probably kill it now, since it doesn’t bring any benefit to his beloved Silvan empire.

I take the final step and open the door before he has a chance to give me some more bullshit I don’t need.

I don’t want his politeness, I couldn’t care less about an apology. I don’t need shit from him.