The Omega and The Arrogant Alpha (by Kylie) novel Chapter 267

Disagreement they could manage.

Defiance they could frame.

This unsettles them.

“You’re being dramatic,” one man mutters.

“I’m being precise,” I reply.

“I won’t do it,” I say. “Not like this.”

Silence stretches.

Not awkward silence.

Strategic silence.

They wait, hoping I’ll fill it. Hoping I’ll soften.

Then the first man leans forward, fingers laced together like a confession waiting to happen.

“Negotiations will proceed anyway,” he says. “With or without safeguards.”

The threat isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be.

“If you step back,” he continues, “others will fill the space. People who don’t care about process. Or fallout.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” I ask.

“It’s supposed to be realistic,” he says.

I sit with that for a moment longer than they expect.

This is the trap.

Visibility has consequences.

Absence has consequences too.

I’ve been choosing distance, believing restraint would limit harm. Believing that not lending myself to flawed systems would weaken them.

But restraint only works when everyone’s playing the same game.

Right now, they’re not.

“You’d rather do this without oversight,” I say, “than allow someone to slow you down.”

“We’d rather avoid paralysis,” the woman replies.

“Paralysis for who?” I ask. “You? Or the packs who’ll live with this?”

She doesn’t answer that.

I exhale slowly through my nose, the breath measured. Controlled.

Stepping back now wouldn’t be neutrality.

It would be abdication.

And people would get hurt in the gaps they’d happily pretend were unavoidable.

“I’ll agree,” I say finally.

Relief flashes across the table too quickly to hide. One of them exhales. Another nods like the matter’s settled.

“Conditionally,” I add.

They freeze.

“I won’t lead,” I continue. “I won’t sign. I won’t authorize. I won’t be used as cover.”

“That’s not how this—” someone starts.

Messages start coming in before I reach my office.

“Glad you’re back in this.”

“This will calm people down.”

“We feel better knowing you’re overseeing it.”

Overseeing.

I stop in the hallway and stare at the wall for a second too long.

I didn’t choose visibility.

It was forced.

That night, I sit alone at my desk, the room lit only by the lamp and the glow of my tablet. The compound is quiet, but it feels thinner somehow, like walls that used to hold sound have started letting it leak through.

A notification blinks at the corner of the screen.

Public statement released.

I open it.

Coalition Negotiations to Proceed Under Mediation by Savannah Vale

My name, bold and centered, already doing the work they wanted it to do. Lending legitimacy. Offering reassurance. Acting as a shield I never agreed to be.

I stare at it longer than I should.

“This isn’t oversight,” I murmur aloud.

It’s exposure.

And someone, somewhere, wanted me back in the open.