Page 17

CHAPTER 17

RESISTANCE TIES

The carriage hits another pothole, sending a jolt of pain through my lower back. At five months pregnant, finding a comfortable position seems impossible. I shift on the cushioned seat Kazuul insisted on for my journey to Eastbridge Trading Post, trying to ease the pressure on my spine.

"We'll arrive shortly, honored consort," the driver calls back, his tone carefully respectful.

It still feels strange being addressed this way by other humans. Just months ago, I was their leader. Now they bow and speak to me with the same deference they show oni officials. My hand drifts to the swell of my belly where the baby kicks and rolls beneath my palm. Each day its movements grow stronger, more defined. The oni healers seem both impressed and puzzled by how quickly this half-human, half-oni child develops.

My own body has changed too. My temperature runs hotter, my sense of smell has sharpened, and according to the healers, even my blood chemistry has shifted to nourish the hybrid life inside me.

The carriage slows as we reach Eastbridge's checkpoints. Through the window, I watch the guards—both human and oni—move with practiced coordination. Commander Thorne's new security protocols are clearly working.

"The Warlord's consort approaches!" The announcement triggers a flurry of activity as guards and officials rush to form a proper welcome line.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at the display. These visits used to mean something entirely different to me. Once, I would have been cataloging guard rotations, memorizing patrol patterns, looking for weaknesses to exploit. Now I'm here to inspect the very systems I once planned to sabotage.

The officials greet me with deep bows as I step from the carriage, my rounded belly impossible to hide beneath my formal garments.

"We're honored by your presence," Administrator Chen says, her back ramrod straight as she hands me the first of many reports I'll review today. "The distribution improvements you recommended last quarter have shown remarkable results."

I scan the numbers as we walk. "Transport losses down thirty percent. That's better than expected."

Chen nods, clearly relieved by my approval. "Your security recommendations have been particularly effective for the northern routes."

"What about the western sector? Those numbers still look high."

"We added more oversight last week," she assures me, her fingers tightening on her tablet. "Next month's report should show improvement."

We spend the morning inspecting everything—storage facilities, distribution centers, processing plants. Officials follow me like anxious shadows, carefully noting every suggestion I make. My position as Kazuul's "honored consort" gives me authority over human settlements throughout his territory—power I never imagined a claimed omega could hold.

It's during our midday inspection of the central granary that I see it. Just a simple marking carved into a support beam. To anyone else, it would look like a decorative pattern, but I recognize it instantly—a resistance signal. Contact requested. Operative present. Priority message.

My heart slams against my ribs.

I keep my expression neutral, my eyes moving past without lingering. Years of resistance training kick in automatically. I continue my conversation with Chen while my mind races, scanning for potential contacts among the warehouse workers, noting surveillance blind spots, calculating risks.

What catches me off guard is the sudden twist of fear in my gut. Not fear of discovery, but something more primal. My hand moves to my belly before I can stop myself, a protective gesture that feels completely foreign to the resistance leader I once was.

"Honored consort?" Chen's concerned voice breaks through my thoughts. "Is something wrong?"

I smooth my features. "The baby's just active today," I say, the truth serving as perfect cover. "Please continue."

The rest of the inspection feels endless. Part of me focuses on my official duties, while another part identifies the most likely resistance operative—a maintenance worker with the hard hands and watchful eyes of someone with combat training. But there's a third part of me now, one that keeps evaluating threats not to myself, but to the child growing inside me.

When we reach the water purification facility, I make my move.

"I'd like to examine the filtration controls more closely," I tell Chen. "Continue to the next inspection point. I'll catch up shortly."

Once the administrative group moves ahead, I approach the control panel where the maintenance worker is making adjustments. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine for a split second—just long enough for understanding to pass between us.

"The flow metrics have improved fifteen percent since your last visit," he says at normal volume. "Though the pressure still needs manual adjustment occasionally."

"Show me the control sequence," I say, stepping closer as he opens the access panel.

His body blocks any surveillance cameras as he leans in, his voice dropping to barely a whisper.

"Haven Valley sends regards. We've established extraction tunnels in the north. Three claimed omegas rescued last month."

My chest tightens. Haven Valley—my home, my people—still fighting, still operating despite my absence. I should feel proud. Instead, I feel a strange mix of longing and apprehension.

"Your leadership has been missed," he continues, pretending to adjust controls. "Your replacement keeps things running, but lacks your vision."

I make notes on my tablet, maintaining our cover. "Current focus?"

"Extracting omegas from breeding facilities and forced claims. We've developed medical procedures for pregnancy termination with full omega recovery. Reintegration protocols are working well."

Pregnancy termination.

The words hit me like a physical blow. My hand flies to my belly where the baby kicks, as if sensing my sudden tension. Five months ago, I might have celebrated this development—a way to free omegas from the biological chains of forced breeding. Now, the very thought fills me with horror.

"Transportation window tonight during shift change," he continues, oblivious to my reaction. "Twenty minutes to reach the tunnels. Medical intervention within three hours of arrival. Full reintegration within five days."

He's not just giving me information. He's offering me extraction. A way out. A way back to my old life.

"Haven Valley has kept your position open," he adds, disguising his words as technical data. "Your strategic knowledge of oni territory would be invaluable, especially after your time in captivity."

The choice before me is impossible. Return to the resistance, help save omegas from the fate I've endured, end this pregnancy that began with force—or remain in my new position, continue improving life for humans in Kazuul's territory, and protect the child that, despite everything, I've grown to love.

"System assessment complete," he announces at normal volume, closing the control panel. "Pressure regulation is functioning within parameters."

His eyes meet mine briefly, waiting for my answer. I keep my face composed, though my heart pounds so hard I'm amazed he can't hear it.

"Continue regular monitoring," I say evenly. "I'll check the complete metrics next quarter."

Disappointment flickers across his face before his professional mask returns. He understands what I'm not saying—I'm neither accepting nor rejecting, just delaying. He nods and steps back, maintaining our cover despite the complication I've become to his mission.

I rejoin the administrative group, walking with measured steps despite the trembling I feel inside. The baby moves again, pressing against my ribs. The fierce protectiveness that sweeps through me is like nothing I've felt before. This child—created through force but now cherished—has become more important than ideologies or old loyalties.

I finish the inspection on autopilot, giving recommendations and reviewing protocols while my mind churns with the weight of the choice I'm facing. Administrator Chen and her staff bow deeply as I depart, promising to implement every suggestion I've made—changes that will genuinely improve life for the humans living here.

As my carriage rolls back toward Crimson Fortress, the full weight of what's happened finally hits me. The resistance I once led now represents a threat to what I hold most dear. Their "solution" to my pregnancy—offered with the best intentions—fills me not with hope but with dread.

I spread my hand across my belly, feeling the strong movements beneath. Whatever the circumstances of conception, this child is mine. The choice crystallizes with sudden clarity—I will not sacrifice this life, not even for the cause I once lived for.

The realization should feel like betrayal, and in some ways it does. I've become what I once scorned—a claimed omega accepting her place, protecting her half-oni child, choosing stability over freedom.

Yet I can't deny that my position in Kazuul's administration has created real improvements for human settlements that years of resistance activities never achieved. Food reaches hungry mouths. Medicine saves lives that would have been lost. Protection exists where there once was only exploitation.

And most unsettling of all, Kazuul himself has become someone I never expected—not just a captor but a partner whose approach, while still built on conquest, creates better conditions than what I saw in the Emperor's domains.

As Crimson Fortress appears on the horizon, its massive structure glowing red in the sunset, I face the truth of what I've become. The resistance leader who once saw these walls as the ultimate symbol of oppression now returns to them with something close to relief. The omega who began as a sacrifice now wields influence she never thought possible.

The baby kicks again, strong and determined. My path forward seems suddenly clear. I will protect this child. I will use my position to help those I can. I will find a middle way between resistance ideals and conquest reality.

It feels like both betrayal and growth, uncomfortable yet necessary. As we pass through the massive gates of the fortress, I straighten my back and prepare to tell Kazuul about the security breach. The conversation ahead will test the partnership we've built, but I no longer dread facing him as I once did.

The warlord who claimed me as his prize has become an ally in protecting something neither of us expected—a future that doesn't fit neatly into the categories of conqueror and conquered, but offers something new that neither side imagined possible.