Page 6 of Omega's Formula

Sara’s phone buzzes. Then mine again. She glances at the screen and her eyebrows rise.

“Erik.” Her voice has shifted into business mode. “You need to see this.”

She turns my phone toward me. The Bureau’s official app displays a notification banner.

CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE BEEN MATCHED.

I feel a flush of irritation. Oh wonderful. Another useless omega for the Bureau to waste my time with.

“I can’t be bothered to deal with this one. Just review it and see if they’re suitable. Then I’ll look.” Sara opens her mouth, but I keep going. “Myversion of suitable. Not yours and certainly not Anna’s.”

“It’s a prime match, Erik,” Sara says. “98.8%”

“No, it’s not,” I say automatically. That’s impossible. No one is 98.8%, but I take the phone and scroll down.

Compatibility: 98.8%, prime match

Name: Nolan West

Initial meeting scheduled: Wednesday, 2:00 PM, Bureau Downtown Office. Attendance is mandatory for prime matches. Failure to attend may result in penalties.

It does say 98.8%. It must be a mistake.

Then the name registers.

Nolan West.

I know that name. It surfaces from somewhere in the back of my mind, familiar in a way that makes my jaw tighten.

“Well?” Anna leans across the table, trying to see the screen. “What’s the compatibility?”

“Ninety-eight percent,” Sara says before I can respond.

Anna’s mouth drops open. “Holy shit.”

“Language,” I murmur automatically, still staring at the name. Nolan West. Where do I know that name from?

“Don’t give me that.” Anna’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Ninety-eight percent, Erik. Do you know how rare that is? That’s like winning the love lottery. Oh my god. I am so glad you waited. You were right. I was wrong. This changes everything.”

I’m too thrown by the match percentage to enjoy the rare event of Anna admitting she is wrong about anything.

“It’s just a number.” But my mind is already working through the implications. Prime matches are mandatory. Refusing would mean legal challenges, public scrutiny, potentially criminal charges. This better be a decent omega for once.

“Just a number?” Sara shakes her head. “The Bureau’s algorithm isn’t wrong. This isn’t just compatible, this is—”

“Where have I heard that name?” I interrupt.

Sara’s expression shifts. She pulls out her own tablet and starts typing.

“You recognize it too.” I say. “Who is it?”

“Just checking something.” Her fingers fly across the screen. Then she stops. Goes very still.

“Sara.”

She rotates the tablet toward me slowly. “Nolan West. Filed a claim against Nilsson Industries four years ago regarding intellectual property theft.”

The memory slams into me. How could I forget the name?