Page 111 of Omega Hunted

“Soren.” My voice cracked clean in half on his name, and I didn’t bother hiding it. “Are you asking me to bond you on paper, or asking me to marry you?”

“Both.” A small, wet laugh escaped him. “I’m asking for both. I want it official. I want my name changed from Kastor to something that was never built to own anyone. I want Asha to grow up never once wondering whether she belonged to a bloodline instead of a family.” He pressed his forehead back against mine, and I felt the bond flare warm and steady between us, matching the racing thump of his heart under my palm. “I want us to be real. On paper, in the registry, everywhere anyone could ever look. Not because someone forced it. Because I asked, and you said yes.”

“Yes,” I said, before he’d even finished, because there wasn’t a version of this where I said anything else. “Yes, to all of it.”

I asked The Archivist about registration the same night I asked about everything else, sitting alone in my office so Soren wouldn’t watch my face while I read the answer.

IRONPINE: We want my name as the official registered Alpha father for our daughter, Asha. Can you help?

Pause.

THE ARCHIVIST: You’d owe me even more than you owe me already

IRONPINE: I’m willing to do whatever it takes without us going to Boston.

THE ARCHIVIST: What names?

IRONPINE: Cassian Raines, alpha. Soren Raines, omega. Asha Raines, first daughter.

There was a short pause, and then a message flashed up

THE ARCHIVIST: Done.

IRONPINE: ?

THE ARCHIVIST: You are an official daddy.

IRONPINE: Just like that?

THE ARCHIVIST: Yes

IRONPINE: Thank you

A document came through, dated a month before, with my details in the space next to Soren and with Asha’s name below.

I printed that one out too.

Twice.

THE ARCHIVIST: FYI, Wren Dalton is circling what’s left of the Kastors.

IRONPINE: How bad.

THE ARCHIVIST: The Kastor Fam is a mess. Two cousins are already suing each other over board seats at the foundation. One shipping partner pulled a triple nine-figure contract this morning and cited leadership instability. Three people have asked me, off the record, whether the dead brother had children before he died.

IRONPINE: Do they know about Asha?

THE ARCHIVIST: Not yet. That’s the only reason you’re not dealing with a bigger problem than Wren Dalton right now.

I read it twice before I let myself breathe out. The family Soren had spent his whole life afraid of was eating itself alive without him anywhere near the room, and for the first time that felt like something other than luck.

IRONPINE: Are we safe from the Daltons?

I meant, was Soren safe, and I waited as The Archivist paused. The Daltons hadn’t given any indication they knew that Asha had Dalton blood, but secrets never stayed buried long.

THE ARCHIVIST: I’m assuming there’s a connection between the Daltons and your omega?

I wasn’t going to say anything explicitly, but The Archivist was way too invested in this story not to have seen the obvious connections. I wasn’t going to confirm or deny, and I changed the subject.