Page 6

“...refuse to be another statistic,”

Leo’s voice fills my bedroom from the television mounted on the wall.

“A prime match doesn’t override my right to choose.”

The camera pans across the university plaza, capturing the crowd of supporters surrounding the makeshift podium where Leo stands, beautiful in his righteous anger.

“ Thorndike represents everything wrong with the Bureau,”

Leo continues.

“the arrogant certainty that his desires trump consent. He doesn’t see omegas as full human beings with our own thoughts and feelings.”

I adjust my tie for the fourth time, studying my reflection while keeping one eye on the television. Despite the clear passion in his voice, Leo looks exhausted. There are dark circles under his eyes, tension in his shoulders, the slight tremor in his hands as he grips the podium. My heart aches for him. This is hard on him. I know it is. I wish I could make it easier.

My charcoal suit is perfect. I picked the fabric myself, stood through three fittings to make sure the shoulders sit just right. I’ve had this suit since the day I registered. It’s been hanging in my closet all this time, waiting for the right omega.

Not that Leo Torres will notice my suit. Or care. Or even show up to see it.

Well, I tell myself. He won’t care today, but in a year, he will. He’s going to look back at our bonding day photos with love and then he’ll notice.

“I stand here today as living proof that the Bureau’s system can be challenged,”

Leo’s voice rings with conviction as the camera zooms in on his face.

Despite everything, a small, irrational part of me hopes he’ll change his mind. That he’ll realize what I already know: we belong together. That he’ll walk through those Bureau doors at 9 AM, defiant and magnificent and willing to at least consider what exists between us.

And yet...

“You’re ridiculous,”

I tell my reflection, not entirely sure if I mean the suit I’ve been saving for him for ten years or the hope that this is going to be easier on both of us than I think it will be.

I switch off the television and reach for Leo’s binder on my dresser, the one he abandoned during his hasty retreat from our Bureau meeting. It smells delicious, just like him.

I flip it open, running my fingers over Leo’s cramped handwriting. There are notes on supposed Bureau policy violations and highlighted sections of my own published papers, annotated with colorful critiques.

“False equivalency,”

“cherry-picked data,”

“confuses correlation with causation.”

Despite myself, I smile. Leo Torres is brilliant. He’s not just passionate, but methodical and intelligent. I’m proud of how he is fighting me, oddly enough. I’m proud of his courage, his conviction and his refusal to be intimidated by institutional power. Even when that power includes me.

I close the binder, tucking it carefully into my briefcase alongside the formal bonding documents. Leo might not attend the ceremony but I’ll be there, even knowing I’ll be alone at the altar.

I straighten my already-perfect tie one final time, square my shoulders, and head for the door. I have a ceremony to attend and an empty chair to stare at.

The traffic is light and I arrive ten minutes earlier than I expect. I use my pass to let myself into the building and make my way to the west side of the building, finding Sun preparing the room.

“Dr. Thorndike.”

He greets me with his notes clutched to his chest.

“We’re prepared to begin as scheduled. Hopefully, Mr Torres will arrive soon.”

I raise my eyebrows. We both know Leo isn’t coming. He’s across town, holding forth about how evil I am.

“Let’s stick to protocol,”

I reply, adjusting my cuffs.

“We’ll wait an hour before recording his absence.”

Sun nods, something like pity flashing across his features before his professional mask slides back into place.

“Of course. Would you like coffee while you wait?”

“No, thanks.”

Left alone, I move to the ceremonial table with its arranged bonding certificate. Two signature lines. Two crystal glasses for the toast. Two platinum rings in a velvet box.

All empty. All waiting.

I google Leo’s name while I wait and find a live feed of his protest in the university square. Even as he denounces me, he is beautiful. Like most omegas, he is pretty with a delicate turn to his features, but he is more than just pretty. There is a fire in him that seems to give him almost a golden glow.

I am so in love with him already. Not even a day, and I am smitten. I suppose one day he is going to tease me about how the great Thorndike has it bad for an omega rights activist. And I’ll jokingly remind him that he didn’t even turn up to our wedding.

It’s hard now, but later it will be perfect.

The feed cuts off at around 9.45 and my stomach tightens in disappointment. I loved watching him.

I occupy myself with looking up and reading his old opinion pieces online, including the ones that aren’t very flattering of me. His conclusions are all wrong, of course, but there’s a sharp mind behind it.

I check my watch—9:58. Leo’s absence is a sure thing, yet I find myself straining to hear footsteps in the hallway.

Get it together, Thorndike. He’s not coming.

Instead of sitting, I move to the window, looking out at the Bureau grounds below. Small groups of people move between buildings. There are the officials in suits but I also spot a paired Alpha-omega couple freshly bonded and radiating that distinctive energy that comes from perfect chemistry. They’re looking at each other like nothing else exists in the world. That’s what I want for Leo and myself.

“Dr. Thorndike.”

I turn to find Sun at my elbow, tablet extended.

“It’s been an hour. I need to officially record this as a rejection ceremony.”

The time has passed both excruciatingly slowly and in the blink of an eye.

“Thanks, Sun. Go ahead,”

I say, my voice steady despite the hollow feeling in my chest. Some primal part of me was hoping he was going to turn up.

“Director Rowe has requested your presence in her office before you leave.”

His tone carries a hint of sympathy.

“Her assistant says it’s important.”

Of course it is. The Bureau won’t allow such a public rejection to go unanswered. Especially not when it involves me and Leo Torres of all people.

“Thanks,”

I say, gathering my briefcase.

“I’ll go now.”

I leave the empty ceremonial suite without looking back. Leo and I will be back here before long anyway. I know it.

Director Rowe doesn’t bother with pleasantries when I enter her office, merely gesturing to the chair opposite her desk.

“I suppose we knew Torres might prove resistant,”

she says straight away.

I settle into the offered chair and give her a shrug.

“I don’t suppose either of us are surprised.”

She fixes me with a measured stare.

“Perhaps you should have given it a few more days to schedule the ceremony.”

I shrug.

“Perhaps. He needed the opportunity to say no. Best to get that out the way quickly.”

“The question now,”

Director Rowe continues.

“is how to proceed. I know you love a challenge but I like things to run smoothly and this is far from smooth,”

she pauses, studying me carefully.

“I think it may be worth going straight to the cohabitation program”

I keep my expression neutral, though my pulse quickens slightly.

“I thought that was still in trial phase, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but showing promising results. Every single resistant omega showed significant bonding indicators after the two-week period.

“ Director Rowe’s voice remains clinical and unattached. “We’ve prepared one of the North Lake cottages already”

Of course they have. The Bureau excels at contingency planning.

What surprises me is my own reaction. Two weeks. Alone. Together. I can’t think of anything I want more. Maybe it’s more traditional to have the honeymoon after the wedding, but there’s no reason not to do it this way.

She slides the tablet across the desk, displaying an authorization form requiring my signature. I don’t hesitate. I pick up the stylus and sign the form.

Director Rowe nods, satisfaction evident in her posture as she reclaims the tablet. She checks her watch.

“The cottage is ready now. I suggest you proceed there immediately to settle in before Mr. Torres arrives.”

“When will that be?”

“A security team will escort him tomorrow morning,”

she clarifies.

“Given who he is, we anticipate some... reluctance.”

Something cold slides down my spine at the euphemism.

“I want minimal force used,”

I say, the words emerging more intensely than intended.

The director laughs suddenly, her eyes crinkling.

“Of course. You’re being a perfectly protective alpha already, . I promise we’ll be careful with him.”

We shake hands and I head home to pack. Back at the apartment, I take my time getting everything together.

I have lived alone in this same apartment ever since I took up my first teaching position at the university. I considered moving when I took up my job at the Bureau but I’ve been comfortable here. It’s always been perfect for me. Now I’m wondering if it is perfect for both of us.

I’m going to leave this apartment as a bachelor and come back to it as a married man. My life is about to fundamentally change. I pack up two week’s worth of clothing as well as some books that I think Leo will like and grab the best wine from my wine rack.

It’s a two hour drive out to North Lake. I stop only at the market to grab groceries. The Bureau will have ensured that the cottage is fully stocked but I am an excellent cook. I’d like Leo to see that I can look after him in more ways than one.

By late afternoon, I’m standing on the wide porch of the cottage, taking in the pristine view of water stretching toward distant mountains.

Inside, the space has an open living area with comfortable seating, state-of-the-art kitchen, and automated lighting and heating systems. A wall of windows faces the lake, framing the view.

The bedroom stops me short. It is dominated by a single king-sized bed positioned to face the lake view. One bed. Deliberate. Unavoidable. Presumptive. Perfect.

I unpack my clothing and pack it away in the dresser, leaving space on the left of each drawer for Leo’s things. Then, I return to the main room, unpacking the books I’ve brought and setting the groceries away in the kitchen.

The television remote sits on the coffee table. I hesitate, then pick it up, switching on the screen. It automatically tunes to a news channel, and there he is again, Leo, now being interviewed by a serious-looking beta journalist. The segment is title.

“Leo Torres vs. Omega Match Bureau”

“This is about more than one match,”

Leo is telling the interviewer, his hands animated as he speaks.

“This affects thousands of omegas every year.”

“But what about the science?”

the interviewer asks.

“It doesn’t matter,”

Leo counters immediately.

“It still doesn’t justify forced bonding.”

I sink onto the couch, my chest heavy as I watch him. He believes every word with such conviction. He has built his entire identity around fighting this system. He has no idea what’s coming for him.

The interview continues, with Leo masterfully answering increasingly challenging questions. He’s brilliant, articulate and passionate. My heart swells. I watch him until the interview ends and then I switch channels, hoping for me but find nothing.

I turn off the TV and silence rushes back in, but my mind is full of Leo.

I want to make this easier for him somehow. I want to soften the blow of what’s happening. I want to create conditions where he might, eventually, choose to stay rather than feel forced to submit.

Leo will hate this at first. I know that. I’m not a fool. He is going to hate me for being part of it. The knowledge sits like a weight in my chest. I know the hate will be temporary but I hate that we are going to have to go through it. I suppose it is unavoidable.

I prepare tea and move to the large window overlooking the lake. My fingers trace the rim of my teacup as I imagine Leo seeing this view. I think he will appreciate the beauty of it.

I inhale deeply, anticipation coursing through me. My body hums with an energy I can barely contain. Even Leo’s hatred is preferable to his absence. Even his defiance feels like connection.

My reflection stares back at me from the window glass, superimposed over the sunset landscape. I barely recognize my own expression: the intensity burning in my eyes, anticipation evident in the set of my jaw.

I’ve never wanted anything—anyone—the way I want Leo Torres.