All Chapters of The Omega Agreement: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The morning feels different before I even open my eyes. For the first time in what feels like months, the weight pressing against my chest isn't responsibility of my office and it isn't another problem waiting to be solved. It's a warm body curled against mine that, judging by the way she's managed to steal three quarters of the duvet again, has absolutely no regard for personal space. I let my eyes drift open slowly, expecting to find Sierra asleep with her face buried against my shoulder the way she has been most mornings since we brought her home the first time round and since she started seeping in our bed, but instead I find an empty pillow nestled against me and the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the room. I frown instinctively, pushing myself upright as I glance towards the bathroom before hearing laughter drifting through the open balcony doors. It's bright, genuine laughter, the kind I haven't heard from her in far too long, and before I realise what I'm doing I'm a

Sierras POVThe afternoon slips by far quicker than I expect, the sunshine growing warmer overhead as more and more people fill every corner of the pack grounds. Somewhere behind me a local band begins playing another upbeat song, children immediately abandoning whatever game they were playing to dance terribly in the middle of the grass while their parents clap along, and I can't help but laugh when one of the younger warriors ends up being dragged into the middle by three determined little girls who clearly aren't taking no for an answer.He's built like a tank, covered in tattoos and has probably terrified half the rogue population at some point in his life, yet somehow he's now wearing a flower crown while attempting whatever dance move they've convinced him is fashionable. Judging by the amount of laughter echoing around the gardens, he's failing miserably.I wander between the stalls with a smile that refuses to leave my face, stopping every few steps because somebody wants to s

Sierra's POVThe room is strangely peaceful considering I'm about to give birth.The walls are painted a soft cream, the curtains pulled back just enough to let the afternoon sunshine spill through the windows, and somewhere outside I can hear birds singing as though today is no different from any other. It almost makes me laugh. My entire world is changing one contraction at a time while nature carries on as though nothing extraordinary is happening at all.Maybe that's the funny thing about life. The biggest moments rarely arrive with fireworks. They simply happen, quietly slipping into your story before you realise everything has changed and before you can change it back, it changes you into someone you never thought you could be. Another contraction builds low in my stomach, stealing my attention before I can follow that thought any further. I close my eyes, drawing in a slow breath exactly as the healer showed me during all my birthing classes, refusing to tense against it even

Sierra's POVSix months.It's strange how quickly life changes without you even noticing it happening.One day you're counting the hours until you can go back to a dungeon bedroom, not talking to anyone and feeling so lonely and in pain that you wish everything would slow down or stop completely, or you are counting down the hours until your son arrives, wondering whether you're ready to become somebody's mother, and the next you're chasing a six-month-old little boy across a blanket because he's somehow decided rolling is the greatest invention known to mankind. All the while changing his nappy.Every single day Noah discovers something new, whether it's his own feet, the sound of his laugh or the fact his father is apparently the funniest person to ever exist. I could spend an entire afternoon pulling ridiculous faces only for him to blink at me like I've lost my mind, yet Nikolai walks into the room, lifts one eyebrow, and our son erupts into the biggest fit of giggles imaginable.

Aspens POVEleven months agoPeople always assume working in a coffee shop means you spend your day drinking overpriced lattes and chatting with customers. They're wrong. Ninety percent of my shift is spent steaming milk, pretending I didn't hear someone ask for a cappuccino with no foam, wiping down tables that somehow become sticky five seconds after I've cleaned them, and wondering whether caffeine should count as a personality trait. Personally, I think it should. Some people have hobbies. I have coffee, books and an unhealthy habit of mentally redesigning small businesses in my head that don't belong to me.I glance up at the clock above the pastry cabinet before reaching for another takeaway cup. Three more hours. Three more hours until I can lock the till, head to the back of the shop and see Willow, and then head back to our tiny flat and decide whether I can justify putting the heating on or if another blanket will do the job instead. Payday isn't until Friday, the electricit