Better Than Home

Soren sat stiffly in the chair, rubbing his arm where Kieran had gripped him earlier. The dull ache was nothing compared to the storm raging inside him. The office was silent, save for the faint crackling of the oil lamp on the desk.

Kieran stood across from him, arms crossed, his eyes sharp with frustration.

"You should stick to the menial work the other omegas are doing," he said coldly. "Running your mouth like that will only lead to trouble."

Soren scoffed, looking up at him. "Trouble?" His voice was steady, but there was fire in his eyes. "I'd rather cause trouble than die a stupid death, or worse, be violated because some commander didn't bother thinking about where he was sending omegas. Who came up with those strategies anyway?"

Kieran's jaw tensed.

Soren continued, his voice rising. "I know we don't matter to you. We never have. Our lives are always decided for us. But I can't sit by and watch the others be sent straight into enemy hands like cattle."

Kieran exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. Before Soren could react, he grabbed the omega by the collar and yanked him up with brutal force.

Soren's feet barely touched the ground, but he wasn't scared.

Instead, he let out a bitter laugh. "Go ahead." His voice was quiet, taunting. "Hit me too. That's how you keep us in line, isn't it? Keep us weak, keep us obedient. Go ahead, Commander Dain."

The words were sharp, but even as he spoke, something inside him cracked. His vision blurred.

Soren clenched his jaw, but it was no use.

Hot tears spilled over.

Not out of fear.

Not out of weakness.

But out of sheer frustration.

Kieran's face shifted, his anger fading into something softer. He reached out, but Soren slapped his hand away.

"Stop acting like you care," Soren snapped. "One second you're gentle, the next you don't give a damn. If you want to be cold, then be cold. I'd rather you hate me than act like this."

Kieran reached for him again. Soren shoved at his chest, pushing him away.

Kieran's patience snapped. "Stop it."

His arms locked around Soren, overpowering him with ease.

Soren struggled, but Kieran's strength was absolute. He forced the omega against his chest, holding him firmly.

The fight drained from Soren's body. His forehead rested against Kieran's shoulder, his shaky breaths muffled against the fabric of his uniform.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Kieran murmured, "I'm sending you back home."

Soren froze.

Kieran's thoughts swirled. The other commanders were already circling like wolves. He was brutal in war, but they were brutal in their politics. If Soren stayed here, he would be crushed beneath them.

But Soren shook his head. "No."

Kieran glanced down, surprised by the defiance in his voice.

"I'd rather stay here," Soren said. "I'm not going back."

Kieran frowned. "Soren..."

"I don't belong to them anymore," Soren cut in. "My parents sold me to you, Kieran Dain. I'm no longer their property."

Kieran didn't know what to say.

Soren swallowed hard. "At home, I was nothing but a price. A thing to be traded and if you send me back, I will just be sold to someone else. At least here, I..." He let out a small, bitter laugh. "I haven't laughed in years, Kieran. Not until I got here. I can talk to the other omegas. I can breathe."

His fingers curled into Kieran's uniform.

"If I have to choose…" His voice was quiet but firm. "Then I'd rather face the abuse here than go back to the prison I came from."

Soren pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Kieran's gaze. He lifted a hand to his face, tracing his fingers over the healing scars that marred his cheekbones and jaw.

"Look at me," he said quietly. 

Kieran's eyes studied the omega as he gestured toward another set of scars on his arm. "I got these from training. From cussing out alphas. From pushing too hard in drills. And I prefer them over anything else."

Kieran exhaled through his nose, his jaw tight. "Soren…"

Soren shook his head. "At least here, I know why I'm hurt."

Kieran sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Listen to me. You may have noticed that in my camp, omegas aren't just treated as breeders. I despise that system." His voice was full of conviction as he spoke. "I try to make sure my soldiers, no matter their rank, are decent people. That they treat their own with respect. Hatred belongs on the battlefield, not within our own ranks."

Soren frowned slightly, unsure of where he was going with this.

"You've only been here for less than a month," Kieran continued. "When we mix with the other divisions, follow the lead of the other omegas."

Something about his tone unsettled Soren. Was this a warning? 

Soren was too exhausted to ask. Instead, he let out a slow sigh and closed his eyes.

_________

A few days later in the morning, after Kieran and the other commanders finalized the revised strategy, Soren found himself seated in a carriage alongside four other omegas.

Hilda, who had quickly become his closest friend, sat beside him. Her hands fidgeted endlessly, fingers picking at the hem of her sleeve, nails gnawing at each other, her foot tapping rapidly against the wooden floor.

Soren was nervous too, but Hilda's tense energy was making it all worse.

She finally turned to him, her hazel eyes wide with fear. "What if we don't come back?" she whispered. "What if we get stuck there...to be bred like cattle?"

Soren clenched his fists but kept his voice calm. "We won't."

She gave him a sceptical look.

"We've gone over the plan," he reminded her. "We're being transported as 'goods' to a farmer who buys and sells omegas. According to our spies, his land is close to a major inland water supply. If we contaminate it, that takes out about 30% of their resources."

Hilda shuddered. "And then?"

"Then we wait for our moment and make our escape. The Sable River is our last contamination point before we leave enemy territory."

Hilda swallowed hard, glancing at the three other omegas. One of them, a young man Soren knew as Lance who came from Commander Valen's division. They sat in eerie silence, their eyes closed as if meditating. Maybe they were praying. Maybe they were just too scared to speak.

Soren didn't blame them.

This mission was as good as suicide if they were caught.

Hours passed. The journey was long, the road rough. The steady creak of the carriage wheels against the dirt road was the only sound for miles.

Then finally.

The border of Zendara came into view.

The carriage slowed as voices rang outside.

Border patrol.

Soren held his breath as he heard the soldiers approaching, talking to the two betas who were transporting them.

Then, minutes later, the carriage door swung open, and a thick, muscled man peered inside, his gaze sweeping over the five of them. His lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Fresh ones, huh?" He chuckled darkly, stepping back. "Poor bastards."

Soren didn't react. He forced himself to keep his eyes low, his posture meek, just as they had rehearsed.

The soldier exchanged a few words with their 'seller', the betas posing as the traders, before waving them through.

The gates groaned open.

As the carriage rolled forward, Soren felt it deep in his gut.

This was it.

His first mission.

And if they failed—

It would also be his last.