Page 5 of Knot Their Safe Haven (The Omega Rebellion Movement #3)

VOICES ACROSS OCEANS

~VELVET~

M y office looks like a paper bomb detonated at the epicenter of organized chaos.

Financial reports sprawl across the mahogany desk, legal documents tower in precarious stacks on every surface, and empty wine bottles—three, to be precise—stand sentinel among the devastation. The movement passed twelve hours ago, and I've been fielding calls ever since.

"The anonymous donation cleared this morning," Harrison's voice crackles through the speakerphone, my lead investor sounding equal parts excited and suspicious. "Fifty million, Scarlett. Fifty fucking million from a ghost."

I swirl the remnants of a 2015 Chateau Margaux in my glass, watching the burgundy liquid catch the lamplight.

My contacts have been out for hours, leaving my eyes their natural dark brown—almost black in this lighting. Her lavender locks are a frizzy mess, a contribution to her constantly running her hands through them like it’s going to make some significant difference.

Fifty million. Someone with that kind of money to burn on our movement, and they don't even want credit.

"Have we traced the source?"

"Shell companies within shell companies. Whoever this is, they know how to hide their tracks. Could be one of the seven founding Omegas using a different channel, or could be an Alpha with a guilty conscience, or maybe?—"

"Could be someone who actually gives a damn about changing things," I interrupt, exhaustion making me less diplomatic than usual. "Does it matter where it came from if it helps us protect Omegas?"

"It matters if there are strings attached we can't see yet."

Everything has strings. The question is whether they're chains or lifelines.

"Run the security protocols again. If anything seems off, we pull the funds." I massage my temple where a headache has been building for hours. "What about the government pushback?"

"Minimal so far. They're probably still processing what happened. We moved faster than they expected."

"Good. Let them scramble. By the time they mobilize, we'll have the infrastructure in place."

We discuss logistics for another twenty minutes—safe house expansions, legal team additions, medical facility upgrades.

Every word costs energy I don't have, but this is the price of revolution. You don't change the world from a comfortable position.

When I finally end the call, the office feels too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you notice your own heartbeat... breathing …your own loneliness.

Almost forty, fighting battles for everyone else while my own bed stays cold.

It hard to feel this heaviness.

This weight of being left behind because the rest of the world around you is moving forward to society’s standards.

Reaching peak of their promotions, getting married, being marked in a pack and starting a family without a hint of contraints.

Living the dream life and showing how happy and fulfilled they are.

Then there’s me…the anomoly.

Secret baby, lovers who wouldn’t dare come to the surface and scream to the top of their lungs that they’re association to me is more than business, and am I happy?

That’s the real question…am I happy with this life that feels so…unsatisfying?

Despite everything I’m doing. The plenty of lives I’m saving day in and out from selfish Alphas who couldn’t give a damn. My Safe Haven is the foundation…the root of everything…and yet…

Yet…I feel as if the world washed me away…no one would care…

The phone rings again, and I almost ignore it until I see the international number. Dubai. My heart does that stupid flutter it's been doing for fifteen years whenever I see that country code. With a sigh, I can’t help but pull myself of my self misery and press the phone icon to answer.

“Hello, my beautiful Scar.”

My lips twitch to a smile before I can stop myself.

"Using your real voice tonight?" I can't help the smirk that crosses my lips as his deep baritone fills the room. "That's playing dirty, Adyani."

The chuckle that rumbles through the speaker makes heat pool low in my belly.

Even thousands of miles away, through digital distortion, that voice affects me like a physical touch.

"Perhaps I'm attempting what you call a 'thirst trap,' habibti."

Habibti.

My love.

The way he says it, like I'm something precious,worthy of giving up a kingdom for.

"Unless you're planning to reveal your grand female transformation over a video call, this is just cruel."

"Never." Another laugh, softer this time. "When you see me as I truly am, it will be in person. Where I can watch your eyes, touch your skin, taste your?—"

"Adyani."

"Yes, Qalbi?"

My heart.

Always calling me his heart like he doesn't know it stops beating properly when he's not near.

"You can't just call me at..." I glance at the clock, "nearly midnight, use that voice that makes me want to do incredibly stupid things, and expect me to maintain any sort of professional composure."

"Professional? Is that what we are?"

"We're something." I take another sip of wine, needing the liquid courage. "I'm just not sure what."

My hope was to tease, but maybe the nonchalant in my voice matched with the effects of this wine and a stressful day makes it less obvious.

Silence stretches between us, filled with everything we don't say.

Can't say because I guess we’re both cowards…

I close my eyes and picture him—or rather, the him he used to be.

Six feet of lean muscle, deep olive skin that seemed to glow under desert sun, those incredible amber eyes that could go from warm honey to molten gold depending on his mood.

His face had been almost too beautiful for a man—high cheekbones, full lips, a jawline that could cut glass but somehow still seemed delicate.

The kind of masculine beauty that made people stare, made them question things about themselves.

How does that translate to female? Does she keep the height? The bone structure would be stunning on a woman. Those eyes framed by long lashes, those lips that always looked like they'd just been kissed...

"You're thinking about me."

His— her —voice pulls me from my reverie.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Your breathing changed. It always does when you're imagining things you shouldn't."

Observative…

"Bold of you to assume I'm imagining anything inappropriate."

"Aren't you?"

Yes. God, yes. Imagining what those hands would feel like now, whether her skin is still as warm, whether she still smells like saffron and a field of desert roses.

"Tell me about the movement," Adyani shifts topics smoothly, saving me from my own dangerous thoughts. "I heard there was significant anonymous backing."

"Fifty million. Harrison thinks it's suspicious."

"Harrison thinks everything is suspicious. It's why you pay him."

"True." I lean back in my chair, letting it spin slowly. "We're expanding operations. Three new Havens by year end, medical facilities in each, proper security protocols. Everything we've been planning for years is finally happening."

"And yet you sound exhausted rather than victorious."

Because victory feels hollow when you have no one to share it with.

"Just tired. It's been a long day. Long year. Long life."

"Velvet." The way she says my name, soft and concerned, makes my chest tight. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Astraea nearly broke today. Her mother is getting worse, and I watch her fracturing the same way I did at that age.

Kamari still has nightmares about her wedding day.

We have seventeen new refugees this week alone, all of them running from situations that make me want to burn the whole world down. "

I pause, swallow hard.

"And I'm about to turn forty, Adyani. Forty. Do you know what that means for an unclaimed Omega? I might as well be dead in society's eyes. Past my prime, past my worth, past any hope of?—"

"Stop."

The command in her voice makes me freeze.

"You are not defined by their narrow definitions. You are Velvet Morclair, who built an empire of safety from nothing. You are Scarlett, who makes powerful men tremble. You are the woman I gave up a throne for, even if you won't let me claim you."

A throne.

An actual throne, and he walked away from it to become her true self..and I guess be with me.

"I couldn't be there." The words tumble out before I can stop them.

"When you were going through everything—the surgery, the hormone treatments, the family disowning you—I couldn't leave.

The Haven would have collapsed, the Omegas would have had nowhere to go, and I chose them over you. I chose strangers over?—"

"You chose to save hundreds over one. It's who you are. It's why I love you."

Love. Present tense. After everything.

"How can this work when we can't be there for each other when it matters?

You needed me, and I was here. Knox's son—" I catch myself, even on a secure line some secrets stay buried, "Knox needed me during a situation last year, and you were dealing with assassination attempts.

Malcolm had that medical license review, and none of us could testify on his behalf because it would have exposed too much.

We're all so powerful in our own spheres, but we can't seem to?—"

"Come together?"

"Work as a unit. A real pack. It's like we're all planets orbiting the same sun but never aligning."

"Perhaps that's about to change."

Something in her voice makes me sit up straighter.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm tired of orbiting, qalbi. Tired of being apart. The movement passing changes things. The world is shifting. Maybe it's time we shift with it."

"Adyani—"

"I've been officially pardoned by my family. The price of my silence about certain royal indiscretions. I'm free to travel, free to be who I am, free to..." she pauses, and I hear her take a breath, "free to claim what's mine."

Claim. The word hangs between us like a blade.

"I'm not yours."

"No? Then why do you keep that white rose I sent three years ago pressed in your journal? Why do you wear saffron perfume when you miss me? Why do you touch yourself to my voicemails when you think no one knows?"

My face burns.

"How could you possibly?—"

"I know you, habibti. Every tell, every habit, every secret desire you think you hide so well."

"This isn't fair."

"What isn't fair is watching you punish yourself for being an Omega. For having needs. For wanting to be loved the way you deserve."

"I'm about to hit menopause, Adyani. My body is literally telling me my time is up. Gray hairs, hot flashes, the whole biological clock screaming that I missed my chance. How is that fair to you? To any of you?"

"Gray hairs?" She laughs, and it's not mocking, just fond. "Qalbi, I've been going gray since twenty-five. Royalty ages you. As for the rest—do you think I transitioned to have children? Do you think that's what defines us?"

"It defines Omegas."

"It defines what society thinks Omegas should be. You've spent forty years proving them wrong about everything else. Why stop now?"

Because I'm tired.

Fighting is exhausting…and sometimes I just want to be held and told it's okay to stop being strong.

"I should go. It's late, and I have an early meeting tomorrow."

"Velvet."

"Yes?"

"????. I love you. In every form, at every age, in every way. That won't change when you're forty or fifty or ninety."

I have to stop myself from sighing because though her words mean the world to me, it also hurts because we know the truth.

We’re always going to be at a distance…

"???? ????. And I love you." The Arabic rolls off my tongue, learned years ago just to be able to say it back to her. "But sometimes love isn't enough."

"It is when you stop fighting it."

We sit in silence for a moment, just breathing together across continents.

"Laylat saeidah, habibti. Goodnight, my love."

"Sweet dreams, qalbi."

The line goes dead, and I'm alone again with my chaos of papers and empty bottles.

Time is ticking and I’m reaching the age where Omegas become invisible, worthless, forgotten.

I pour the last of the wine, staring at my reflection in the dark window.

Still beautiful by most standards— money and good genes will do that —but I can see the signs. The fine lines around my eyes, the single gray hair at my temple I haven't plucked yet, the way my body doesn't recover as fast as it used to.

What am I waiting for? For them to realize they could do better? For age to make the choice for me?

The movement passed. The world is changing.

Omegas are claiming power, demanding respect, rewriting the rules.

So why can't I claim what I want?

Because wanting means vulnerability.

It means admitting I need them—Knox's steady strength, Malcolm's brilliant care, Adyani's fierce devotion, and hell, who knows if there’s anyone else out there for me to bring us together a unit, because at this rate, are we missing the glue needed to put us together?

That only forces me to admit the lingering truth.

I'm not the untouchable Rebel Queen. I'm just an Omega who wants to be loved before it's too late.

I stand, leaving the office in its chaos.

Tomorrow I'll clean up, face the investors, save more Omegas, fight more battles.

Tonight, I'll go to my empty bed and pretend I don't regret every wall I've built between myself and happiness.

The greatest rebellion would be surrendering to love.

Too bad I've forgotten how to lose.