Oracle

A COUPLE HOURS BACK- EARLY MORNING

"You took your damn time," Augi mutters, stretching his arms behind his head as we step out of the police station into the chaos of the city street. Cars honk while people rush past and there he is complaining like a spoiled child. "I had to sleep in that smelly place because of you."

I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s pouting, lips twisted, eyes narrowed, the male equivalent of a sulking toddler. It sends me over the edge.

I spin, grab his collar, and yank him closer. Augi is built like a tank, broad shoulders, muscles stacked, so I know this doesn’t scare him. He just stares at me, confused, and that confusion drives me further into rage.

"How long will you keep carrying on like this?" My voice is sharp, slicing through the noise of the street.

He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off, raising my voice, not caring about the onlookers. "Twelve point five million. That’s how much it cost to get the guy to drop his charges. And in total this month alone, you’ve cost me close to fifty million. How long will you keep draining us? Gambling away half our assets wasn’t enough for you, now you want the rest?" The words pour out of me harsher than I intended, but I don’t stop.

Augi’s eyes widen, shocked, and he yanks my hand off his shirt, pulling back defensively. His face is a mess with two black eyes instead of one, a busted lip and a nose that’s probably broken. He looks like destruction personified.

"I didn’t ask you to bail me out. I called for Oril, not you. So don’t hassle me for something you chose to do," he snaps, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats, trying to look casual but failing.

I glare at him, my chest burning. "Augi, I’ll be honest since no one else wants to be. You’ve turned into a violence‑loving maniac with the thinking capacity of a toddler just learning to walk. There was a time you were something great, when everyone in this country knew your name as the greatest hockey player to ever exist. But that was six years ago. Six years. Since then, you haven’t scored a single goal in the ring. You don’t do jackshit other than cause problems for everyone around you. You’re behaving like a child who has to be cuddled, whose mess we have to clean up every single time. If you want to keep spiraling into destruction, fine. But don’t drag the pack down with you. Especially Walter, one of the only people, other than Kei and Oril, who actually care about you right now."

A silent breeze washes between us, carrying the weight of my words. Augi keeps his head down, staring at the pavement. I know I’m being cruel, but I don’t care. He needs a wake‑up call. He’s on a path of self‑destruction, and everyone else keeps saying, "It’ll be fine, just give him time. Remember that incident six years ago." Time? He’s had six years. Six years of excuses, six years of pity. At this point, he’s milking it. If he doesn’t get back on his feet now, he never will. The damage will be beyond repair.

I hope my words cut deep. I hope they do something.

Augi raises his head, eyes burning with rage. "Fuck you!" he spits, lifting his middle finger at me before stomping off down the street, his back rigid, his anger radiating like heat.

I stand there, stunned, my chest hollow. "I guess my words didn’t do a thing but make it worse," I sigh, watching him retreat. He doesn’t have his car, and he thinks he’s too good for a bus. How is he even planning to get home? Whatever. I shouldn’t care. He isn’t my problem anymore. I did my job. I got him out of jail.

Clutching Augi’s release documents, I cross the road toward my sleek black Aston Martin. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I shut the door, shutting out the noise of the city.

I pull out my phone and dial Torin, my boss, my pack leader. It takes three agonizing rings before he answers.

"How did it go? Is he out?" Torin’s voice is tired, heavy, like he’s already carrying too much.

"Yes, he’s out. But I had to pay twelve million, plus hospital bills, so the guy he hit would drop the charges."

"Alright. It’s good he’s back. Maybe increase his hours with his therapist. Instead of every Friday, book him every day, before or after practice." Torin yawns, his tone detached. Even he knows it won’t help. He just wants the illusion of control, something to ease the guilt of not doing more.

"Okay. I’ll arrange that." I say clenching my phone. "Good. It’s good to see I can always count on you."

I bite back the bitterness rising in my throat. That’s because I’m always your dog. These are things you, as pack leader, should be doing. But no, keeping Daddy’s legacy alive is always more important.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I re—"

"-I got to go, Oracle. I’m going into a meeting. Tell the pack not to wait up for me, I won’t be back for a couple of weeks."

Torin hangs up before I can even answer. "Wait up for you? Please. Ain’t nobody doing that anymore," I scoff, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

I start the car, the engine purring like a beast, and drive back home. By the time I reach the underground garage of the building, I’m too drained to move. I spend three whole hours parked there, doing nothing but soaking in the silence. The concrete walls echo faintly with the hum of engines above, but down here it’s just me, my thoughts, and the suffocating quiet.

The only reason I don’t stay longer is because I want to cuddle with the white veil the omega gave me at the gala. I know it’s strange, cuddling with a veil like it’s a lover, but it’s been my only support system this past month. I don’t even know why. It doesn’t carry a scent, nothing tangible to comfort me. Maybe it isn’t the veil I’m obsessed with at all. Maybe it’s the Omega who wore it.

I only ever saw her back with her short hair brushing her shoulders and the image haunts me. I would give anything to see that little thing in my arms.

Wait. No. This is insane. I’M INSANE.

Never in my life have I desired an Omega. I always thought I’d die alone, and I was fine with that. What solidified it was when Oril became Walter’s scent match but I didn’t. Rare, considering most twins share the same scent match. It was fine with me, I didn’t want romance then. But now? Now I feel desperate. Desperate enough to crave even the name of that Omega.

She’s probably with a pack of her own by now, showered in love, adored and cherished. The thought of her being with someone who isn’t me throws me into an abyss. My chest tightens, my stomach twists. I need to calm down.

"Oh my gods, I’ve lost my mind," I mumble, pushing open the penthouse door. "What the—" I stop dead.

Did we change the cleaning team? The house is spotless. Cleaner than I’ve ever seen it. And scentless meanin the rest of the pack must be out, which is good. I need alone time.

~.....~

I walk down the hallway, eyes scanning every detail. The windows gleam, the floors shine and the air feels unnaturally sterile. Suddenly, I hear footsteps. Water splashes behind me. I turn quickly. At first, I think I see a floating bucket. Then I notice the pair of legs beneath it.

"This is odd. Is this the new help or somethi—"

Before I can finish my thought, the person slips. The bucket tilts. Dirty, soapy water crashes down on me like a tidal wave. I’m shoved onto my back, waterboarding me in filth.

This is it. My end. I’m going to die drowned in laundry water. What a way to go. My life had good parts and bad, but the bad outweighed the good. My only two wishes now are that I’m buried with the veil and that somehow, I get to see that Omega from the gala again. The water stops and my eyes snap open. I see nothing but a black void.

It happens. I wasn’t being dramatic. I’m dead. Just when I am coming to terms with death a bright light hits my face followed by a sound before I see them: the most beautiful pair of siren‑like brown eyes. Eyes filled with life, yet shadowed by exhaustion the bags beneath them betraying sleepless nights.

Was this an angel coming to save me?

I want to reach out and touch her cheek, but I can’t move. All I can do is stare, terrified to blink, terrified she’ll vanish if I do. She’s gorgeous. Short brown‑black hair brushing just above her shoulders. She reminds me of the Omega at the gala. I never saw her face then, but this... this is what I would have dared to imagine she looks like.

"...I’m sorrry... sorry," she stammers, scrambling to her feet. But the floor betrays her and she keeps slipping, falling back onto my chest. Each time she collides with me, electricity shoots through my body, setting my heart ablaze.

"Sorry... sorry... sorry," she repeats, frantic, until she finally manages to stand.

No. Please. Please don’t leave just yet. Please stay. Don’t go. Not yet. I scream it in my head, desperate, but my body refuses to move. I’m paralyzed, trapped, staring as my little angel glides away. Every step she takes burns me.

What is this? What’s happening to me? This can’t be death. I’m still here, still in the hallway. Which means she’s real. The way a single look from her froze me, the way my body ignited under her touch, this must be it. I think I found her. I think I found my fated mate.