Page 67 of Omega's Faith

I sit beside her on the couch, watching her fingers work the yarn. She's always been able to create beautiful things from simple materials. Blankets and sweaters and scarves that keep us warm in winter. Things made with love and patience and skill.

We sit in silence. The click of her needles is soothing, familiar. How many evenings did we spend like this when I was young? Her knitting, me reading, Dad in his chair with the newspaper. Simple. Peaceful. Everything my life is not anymore.

"I failed," I say quietly.

"Oh, sweetheart." Her voice breaks just a little. She sets down her knitting, but won't meet my eyes. "You needed space to think. That's understandable."

"Mom—"

"But you know you have to go back." The words come out rushed, like she needs to say them before she loses courage. "He's your alpha now, Jonah. You belong with him, not here. I know he’s not what you want. He’s not what I want for you. But that doesn't change the vows you took. For better or worse."

"This is definitely worse."

She finally looks at me, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears. "Your father and I... we've talked about this. Prayed about it. You can't stay here, sweetheart. Not permanently. This isn't your home anymore."

"Mom—"

"You belong to Alexander now. That's God's design. An omega leaves their family and cleaves to their alpha." She's reciting scripture, but her hands are trembling. "Even if he's..." She stops, swallows. "Even if he's not what we hoped for you."

"You mean even if he's a drunk who doesn't want children and thinks we're a cult."

"Jonah." My father's voice from the doorway makes us both jump. He stands there in his work clothes, solid and unmovable. "Mind your tongue."

"It’s not untrue, Dad."

"You're speaking disrespectfully about your alpha." His tone is gentle but firm, the same one he uses when teaching.

“Dad—”

"Jonah."

That tone again. The one that means *stop talking, you're overstepping, remember your place.*

Mom puts her hand on my knee. “We love you darling, but we don't get to pick and choose which parts of God's plan we follow." But her voice breaks on the words. "Oh, Jonah. My sweet boy. This isn't what I wanted for you."

"I know."

"But wanting doesn't change what is. You're married. Your place is with your alpha. These are facts we have to accept."

"And if I can't?"

She reaches over, takes my hand. Hers is cold, trembling slightly. "Then you pray for strength until you can. That's what we do. That's what I did when your father made decisions I disagreed with. That's what you'll do with Alexander."

Dad stands in the doorway watching us. I don’t want to say anything. I don’t want to hear him say my name like that again, but there is a difference here. I don’t know why they can’t see it.

"Dad has never been cruel to you."

"No. Never. He's a good alpha, a godly man." She squeezes my hand. "But even if he hadn't been, my place would still be with him. That's the covenant we make."

I think about Alex at our wedding, sober and trying. The way he'd held me during the first dance and the way he'd taken care of me during my heat, bringing water and food, washing my fevered skin with cool cloths.

Then I think about him drunk and bitter and mocking.

"I have a meeting with Diana on Tuesday," I tell Mom. "To discuss terms."

“You can’t get divorced,” Dad says.

“I won’t.”