This alteration allows them to coexist more easily within the broader society of betas, leading to a reduction in the violence and animosity that, for so long, preceded the rejection, discrimination, and even eradication of Alpha-Omega populations.
‘Gold pack omegas’ and ‘rogue alphas’ (the alpha children of gold packs) are modern terms for those unaffected by the Institute’s injections. Before the Institute’s inception, and currently in the Global East, these individuals remain unlabeled, as they represent the natural presentation of the population.
The injection, alongside other experimentation on the Alpha-Omega population, has also led to developments such as the princess bond, and the more notorious dark bond—an unintentional consequence of attempting to rebalance bonds via the princess bond.
The Institute has stated that they no longer actively engage in the alteration or ‘betterment’ of the Alpha-Omega population.
SIN
We’d been free for a week, and things still felt surreal.
I kept waking from dreams where I was back in Anarchy—of the cool, damp air, the tenseness, stares of prowling alphas, the constant need to watch over my shoulder. Even when I woke, it took a few seconds to remember that the walls around me were wood instead of stone, that the safety wasn’t a trick.
The cabin felt like a kind of heaven, far beyond anything I’d ever dared to dream of. It had three floors—the top the smallest, with a single room tucked beneath the roof. The second floor held four bedrooms, and the main level was an open, beautiful space that let the whole pack exist together, with a large deck at the back.
A perfect house for a pack who had spent years trapped.
We had what we needed, at least for now. The Kingsman pack had stocked the fridge until it was almost absurdly full of meals, and Umbra had insisted on leaving us alotof bananas and ice cream, which was great, but I wouldn’t have complained about anything after years of prison crap.
They were also organizing furniture and nest supplies for us—things for the cabin, and eventually for the garden, once we were ready to think that far ahead.
Leading out onto the wooden deck at the back of the cabin was a sunroom, half inside the house and half outside, with windows set into the ceiling. From there, you could see the forest stretching away from us, and at night the stars framed by dark branches. There was a hot tub just beyond it, steam rising into the trees when the air turned cold.
That was where Crescent had built the nest.
Ournest.
It was a perfect place for a pack that had spent so much time in prison. We’d barely touched the bedrooms, sleeping either in the nest or on the couches in the open-concept living room.
One morning, after having passed out to superhero movies Phantom was binging, I’d woken to the burning smell of Karma and Crescent trying to figure out how to make breakfast. As I blinked bleary eyes, tucked in lovingly with blankets and a few pillows, I saw Phantom stumbling from the nest, clearly having been woken too. I’d grinned as he’d barrelled into the kitchen to wrestle the frying pan from Karma before he started a fire.
We were all together in this beautiful place.
Thiswasheaven.
Even the location was perfect. From almost every room in the home, there was a view of the trees outside. I loved it when it rained. The faint patter against the sunroom glass was deeply comforting, and in the main living space, Phantom kept a constant stream of ambient sounds or movies playing on the big TV. It was good. I needed the noise—I think we all did—but it mattered that the noise was something we chose, something we controlled.
During the day, we worked on setting up the house, which mostly meant building Crescent’s nest into something that felt permanent. Soft layers piled high, and string lights woven carefully throughout, their glow warm instead of harsh. She’d hung threads along the walls and attached to them were keys, charms, sunglasses, and other little objects she’d claimed as hers. There were also piles of hats, and she’d pick out a different one daily in case she had to go outside.
We’d added Karma’s art wherever there was space, splashes of colour that somehow fit perfectly. And for me, they found paintings and prints of nature—forests, skies, and oceans.
I was still working on how to nest. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I’d buried that instinct for so long. For now, it was enoughto watch Crescent work it out, to see her excitement as she found something perfect for me, or for her.
Of course, thefirstinstallation added to Crescent’s nest, was Vandle.
Her wounded alpha.
The Kingsman pack had sentsomeoneover to check on him, and though the alpha hadn’t looked like a doctor with those piercings and tattoos up his neck, he stitched up the gashes and dressed them better than we’d managed. Then again, how unprofessional he looked was probably a blessing in disguise—the fact he wasn’t wearing a lab coat might have been the only reason Vandle let him touch.
The rest of us had mostly recovered with sleep, though we were still carrying a few scratches. The bruise on Crescent’s cheek was already fading, which was good—because every time I saw it, I felt like I might crack a tooth from how hard I clenched my jaw.
Vandle had been getting more frustrated by the night, though, as one (or more) of his packmates were relentlessly fucking Crescent into the sheets right beside him. He was forced to watch, tense and unable to join in because of his wounds.
So, she took the opportunity to explore something Iknewmade her nervous. But with her pack lead injured, she had more dominance over the situation, and I think that was what gave her the confidence to climb over him, and lower herself down between his legs.
She wanted me there, holding her hair back—maybe for comfort, or because of the guidance I couldn’t help but offer as I watched.
I think we might have added a day or two to Vandle’s healing process, but I don’t think he cared as she took the tip of his cock between her pink lips.