Page 2 of Knot Their Safe Haven (The Omega Rebellion Movement #3)

THE WEIGHT OF WATCHING THEM brEAK

~VELVET~

And watching him pretend he doesn't want to claim me every single morning we do this dance.

My wine-red dress hugs curves that shouldn't still turn heads at thirty-nine, but money and good genetics are a powerful combination.

The Louboutins click against the polished floor, each step echoing in the empty hallways.

Knox always gives me early access, says it's for the "safety of the Omegas," but we both know better.

He likes having me here. Likes the anticipation of seeing me before the masses arrive.

The sound reaches me first—flesh meeting leather in a rhythm that speaks of rage barely contained. I know that pattern, have heard it too many times from too many broken Omegas who've found their way to my Haven.

But this one... this one hurts differently.

Astraea.

I pause at the doorway to the Omega section, taking in the scene before me.

Silver hair plastered to pale skin, every muscle in her compact frame coiled with tension as she destroys the punching bag.

She's been here at least forty-five minutes based on the pool of sweat beneath her feet.

The girl always shows up early to avoid the Alpha crowds, but this is excessive even for her.

Mother issues. Always mother issues with this one.

The way she moves—controlled violence barely leashed—reminds me of myself at nineteen. Except I had foster families to rage against, not blood parents who should have loved me better.

"Should I ask who pissed you off?"

She's dripping, breath coming in controlled gasps despite the exhaustion written across her face. Even now, even furious, she takes precautions. Training in the Omega section where she belongs according to society's rules, making sure the Beta janitors will have an easy cleanup.

Always so considerate. Always thinking of everyone except herself.

The smile that crosses her face when she recognizes me makes something warm bloom in my chest—that dangerous maternal instinct I've been fighting since she walked into my Haven two years ago, barely seventeen and trying so hard to be strong.

"You already know," she finally answers, and I can't help but smile back.

"Mama Issues."

"When is it not Mama Issues?" Her laugh is bitter, too old for nineteen. "It honestly feels pathetic. Being nineteen and dealing with issues with your parent wanting to financially benefit from you versus what I'm sure so many other newly young adult Omegas deal with."

I want to tell her it's not pathetic. That trauma doesn't discriminate based on age or circumstance. That her mother's emotional vampirism is just as damaging as physical abuse. But I know she needs to voice this first, needs to purge the poison before I can offer the antidote.

She talks about her mother's greed, about Alphas who walked away, about the weight of being unwanted. Every word cuts because I see myself in her—not the specifics, but the shape of the wound. That fundamental betrayal when the people who should protect you become the ones you need protection from.

"It's getting worse, huh?"

I don't realize I've moved until I'm standing in front of her, close enough to see the exhaustion beneath the anger.

My purple curls frame my face—I'd touched them up last week, maintaining that perfect lavender shade that makes Alphas do double-takes.

But right now, I'm not the Rebel Queen or Scarlett or any of the masks I wear.

Right now, I'm just Velvet, watching another girl break the way I once did.

"You're reaching that limit, aren't you?"

"I've probably surpassed it one too many times." Her laugh is hollow, and watching her struggle to stand makes my chest tight. "But can you blame me?"

"I can't."

Because I remember my limit. Remember the day I decided I'd rather die than let them win. Remember Knox finding me in an alley, teaching me to fight back.

"Did you present an ultimatum?"

She explains how her mother sees boundaries as threats, how she's waiting for Astraea to find a pack just so they can spoil her . The audacity of it makes my blood simmer, but I keep my expression controlled.

"You don't think it's the heat suppressants? It's been two years now, hasn't it?"

Two years of poisoning herself to avoid what nature demands. Two years of fighting biology because the alternative—being vulnerable to any Alpha who catches her scent—is worse.

"If it is, I no longer have the energy to care." She tugs at her boxing gloves, letting them fall. "Like she said today, she's only waiting for me to meet my pack so they can spoil them."

"They can spoil her?" I can't hide my disbelief. "When she had five Alphas showering her with Dolce and Gabbana, Christian Louboutin, and every other luxury brand in the book, it wasn't enough? She wishes to now benefit from her Omega daughter?"

The fucking audacity. The sheer narcissistic delusion.

"Yup because she deserves it for raising me."

I shake my head, seeing the future that woman is building for herself—alone, bitter, wondering why all her children abandoned her when she never gave them anything but guilt and demands.

"She's going to be alone in this merciless world at this rate. She wants to grow old alone? Be an outcast from all her children. Does she not see her actions have consequences? That she's pushing you away?"

Am I talking about her mother or myself? These days, the line blurs.

Astraea tells me about her brother Leo's words, about being born into jealousy, about being unwanted from the first breath. My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms. If I ever meet this woman, I'll show her what happens when you break children for sport.

"Being reminded every day that your birth is but an error of your Omega Mother's state of mind is a constant reminder of what I DON'T want to become."

Smart girl. Turn the poison into purpose.

"You want children, Astraea." The words come out softer than intended as I touch her cheek, feeling the heat of exertion and emotion beneath my palm.

Because I see it in you—that capacity for love that survives despite everything. The way you care for Karma, for your dogs, for everyone in the Haven. You'd be an incredible mother.

"I know your Mother makes it difficult to even envision, but when you find a pack that aligns with you, together you'll be able to determine if children are the right path for you all."

"But..."

But what if they're accidents. What if history repeats. What if, what if, what if.

"Alphas are aware that most Omegas wish to give birth.

To celebrate the ability to live and provide their offspring a loving home.

" I think of my own complicated relationship with motherhood, with Icarus who the world doesn't know is mine.

"Our society makes it harder, especially with how the world has entered its dark ages, but with communication and the right pack, you'll discover what's best and if that includes children, it will transpire. "

"I just don't want to bring a child into this world by accident. Or to be a single omega mother raising a child in a pack that's only around to enjoy the monthly Heats us Omegas can't avoid."

"I know." I wipe what might be sweat or tears from her face, not calling attention to either possibility.

Because I know that fear. Have lived it. Have a son most people don't know about because I was terrified of what it meant.

She talks about wanting children born from love, and I have to smile at her hope. Even broken, even hurting, she still believes in love.

"But what if I don't find my perfect pack."

"No pack is perfect. Not a single one." My smile grows thinking of Knox, Malcolm, Adyani, and especially Alessandro.

All flawed, all complicated, all hovering at the edges of my life because I won't let them closer.

"But that's the beauty of it, Astraea. That a group of individuals with their various imperfections can come together and love a single person who is just as imperfect as them. "

I cradle her face, giving her the maternal touch her mother never provided.

"Like different strings of yarn, you begin to take those first weaving movements.

Interlock and entwine, coming together into a unique masterpiece one can't replicate.

You learn about each others' strengths and weaknesses and you come to love and admire those traits.

All these emotions of anxiety and uncertainty will fade, and in their place will form blossoming emotions of stability and hopefulness. "

Listen to yourself, Velvet. Take your own advice for once.

I press my forehead to hers, sharing strength, sharing hope.

"Being an Omega is never an easy journey, but it will be a rewarding one when you've not only embraced the beauty within you, but the amazing strength you can acquire as a whole with your pack at your side."

Even if I'm too scared to embrace my own.

"So until then, keep being your talented Rebel self. Just lead the government on a trail of failed meetups for added measure."

Her groan makes me laugh. "I got another one of those."

"Ah. Same."

"Wait! You still get them?" Her shock is endearing.

"Every quarter. You'd think now that I'm almost forty they would have given up. Before, they enjoy sending you brochures with ticking clocks on them to emphasize that your uterus is going to shit, so bang the closest pack you can find and have a baby pronto for everyone's peace of mind."

As if my uterus is public property. As if my worth is measured in breeding potential.

We joke about the tracking system, about being baby-making machines, but the laughter is armor against the truth—that even with all my power, all my money, all my connections, I'm still just an unclaimed Omega in their eyes.

Worthless after forty. Expired goods.

"You never found a pack right for you?"

"It's not like I never found a pack, my dear. There are plenty who've begged for my commitment, but alas. I never found one who matches my spark."