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"Uh... a Beta," he said.

"Well, plenty of Alphas coming through now with the Empire in control. Not so good for an old Beta like me. This Estria isn’t the peaceful place it once was, as I'm sure you know. But then again, maybe everywhere in Ekdol is the same now."

"I'm leaving, too," Lars said. It felt like he was trying to convince himself.

"Where are you headed?"

"Out of the country," he replied, feeling strange.

"You have clearance?" she asked.

"Clearance?"

"It was in the infocast. They've shut the borders. No one in or out without special clearance."

Clearance? What kind of clearance would he need? Could he really go through with this?

They reached the checkpoint, which was congested with a line of people waiting to pass through. The guards waved in a convoy of Xyletian trucks, and soldiers in wolf form inspected those making their way out. He tensed as two wolf guards padded down the line, sniffing at the dirt. They paused for a moment in front of him, raising their noses in the air. Lars pulled his coat tight, hoping that Phoenix's scent would properly hide that he was an Omega. He didn't want any extra attention. Obviously, he hadn't thought this plan through. The wolves continued on.

He and the woman neared the front of the line. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a fold of papers, and when they reached the inspection officer he held out his hand.

"Papers, please," he demanded, and she gave them over to him. The officer turned to Lars. "Put the luggage down and have your papers ready. Any baggage, ma'am?"

"Just the one my friend here is carrying. You can set it down, young man."

Lars froze. He watched as the officer unfolded the woman's papers. They were marked as identification, with a photograph of her, fingerprints, a paw stamp, and a yellow marking that indicated her status as a Beta.

"Ah... I need to..." He slowly set the trunk down. "I forgot my..."

When no one was paying attention to him, he left the line. He walked quickly, praying that the officer wouldn't send someone after him.

Stupid.

How could he leave? He felt stupid to think it would be possible. He had no way of navigating this world—he could barely even find his way to the border of a one-road town. He had no protection, no escorts, no power. He was an Omega, and he bore the permanent scent marking of the Greer brothers. Eventually, someone would find him out—if he wasn't kidnapped before that. He was a naive fool to think it would be so easy.

He quickly ducked down a side street, needing to calm his racing heart. He peered back around the corner and was relieved to find that he wasn't being followed.

The worst truth was that Phoenix was right. Of course he was. Even if he had somehow made it out of the town, made it miles from here, he would've ended up being sick for the two Alphas. His body would never let him leave them. His body would always be tethered to theirs, no matter how much his mind tried to pull away and protect himself. He really was helpless. How did he expect to help the Ekdolian people? Just what could he have done? He couldn't even save himself.

He refused to cry, even though he was ready to burst. It was painful, but at least it was one decision he could still make for himself.

When his nerves had calmed, Lars returned to path to walk back to the banquet building. It felt as though a layer of stone had settled around his heart, encasing it. He wondered what would've happened if he'd never been captured by the Greer brothers to begin with, and realized the situation probably wouldn't have been so different. They'd told him the neutral zone had been compromised, that Xyletia already held the government there. Perhaps his fate had always been to stay in the shadows, locked away to exist as not much more than a breeder for whatever high-born Alpha would've claimed him to legitimize their right to the Ekdol throne. Perhaps it would've been the same even if Ekdol had never been invaded.

"They told me I could get one more ration portion! Please, my mother needs this..." A young boy stood defiant in front of a group of soldiers operating a food ration cart. He held a package of rations under his arm and was waving a fold identification papers with his other hand. Lars slowed his pace as he passed by.

"Then your mother should be here," the soldier said. "Get a move on, kid."

"She's sick. I have her papers here! They said I could collect another ration if I had her papers!"

"Shut the hell up and get a move on, I said!" The soldier swung out and caught the boy in the side of his head with the back of his hand. The boy stumbled to the ground, dropping his package which burst open, scattering dried ration wafers across the stone. He groaned and scrambled to pick them up, but one of the soldiers slammed his boot against his side. He tumbled over, coughing. The soldiers then proceeded to smash the wafers into dust with their heels. The line of people pretended not to see, each person collecting their packages and quickly moving on.

The boy clutched his stomach with tears in his eyes and moved to sweep up what he could salvage of the pulverized rations while the soldiers watched, snickering.

Lars was unable to hold his anger. These were his people, who he was supposed to support and protect. He couldn't just let this happen. Maybe he had no power to do anything about it, but he wasn't thinking about that now. He moved forward, reacting without thinking.

"Give this child what he needs," he demanded, putting himself between the boy and guards. "You have no right to deny him."

The guards laughed. "Walk away, unless you want to be put down."