Bygone Love For The Alpha

The Stench Of A Rogue

"Oh, no, Alpha Ezra," my father's voice trembled, his words delicately balanced between deference and apprehension. He grasped the weight of the situation, knowing the potential storm of controversy that could swirl around an Alpha offering his services to omegas. It threatened to cast Ezra as a valiant figure, and the omegas as opportunists, unfairly reaping the benefits of the Alpha's generosity. The tension in my father's demeanor was almost palpable, a steady thrum of unease beneath the surface of his interactions with the werewolves.

My mother turned to me, her gaze tender yet filled with understanding. In the depths of her eyes, there lay a well of empathy, a reservoir of shared experiences. She recalled those moments from my childhood when I hesitantly accepted rides from Ezra. Her silent expression spoke volumes, conveying her awareness of the unpleasant memories this offer had stirred within me.

I summoned my resolve, determined to lift my parents from the weight of their distress. "That's incredibly kind of you, Alpha," I spoke, my voice steady but tinged with a quiet determination, "But we'd rather walk to the cemetery." All eyes in the vicinity swiveled towards me, including those of Ezra and Caleb. Caleb remained a stoic pillar, his expression unchanged, but there was a subtle softening in Ezra's gaze as it met mine. His brows knitted, intently absorbing my words.

"As you can see," I continued, gesturing towards my modest car, "We do have our own means of transportation." Ezra turned to glance at it, nestled just outside the house, before shifting his focus back to me. "We could have easily taken my car if we wished. However, my parents find solace in the act of walking, so we'll be making our way there on foot. Your offer, though, was truly heartwarming. We can't express how much we appreciate it. Please accept our deepest gratitude." Inadvertently, my final words dripped with a hint of sarcasm, more than I had intended, drawing a stern look from my parents.

“Umm, what my daughter means is that…” My father's voice wavered as he attempted to step in for me, attempting to smooth over the situation. However, Ezra intervened with a gentle smile, his understanding gaze directed towards my father, effectively halting any further attempts at explanation.

"Please, Mr. Hunter, there's no need for any explanations," Ezra responded, his tone gentle and understanding. He shifted his gaze towards me, but I quickly averted my eyes. It unsettled me when he extended his kindness towards my family. Those moments when his gaze softened upon me were particularly difficult to bear. They unearthed emotions I'd long buried. I wished he could be more like Caleb, distant and unaffected, as it would make it easier for me to move forward.

"If that's your preference, I completely understand," Ezra continued, placing a reassuring hand over his heart. "Actually, my Beta and I would be honored to accompany you to the cemetery on foot, if you'd allow it," he added, his gaze returning to me as if he was seeking my approval.

My mother readily agreed, her decision made in an instant. It didn't really matter if I were on board with it or not. After all, it wasn't as if my opinion held much sway in the matter. So, I chose to keep my thoughts to myself, falling back into my accustomed position, trailing behind them.

The cemetery wasn't too distant, a mere ten-minute journey, and we arrived there swiftly. Along the way, a procession of omegas came forward, paying their respects to Alpha and Beta. They expressed gratitude for their presence at the funeral, acknowledging the significance of their attendance. There were moments when both Ezra and Caleb turned to seek my gaze, but I steadfastly avoided meeting their eyes. Especially after my bold, perhaps too-bold, sarcasm earlier - a remark I knew my father wasn't likely to let slide. The weight of it all settled heavily within me, a tangled mix of emotions swirling beneath the surface.

As we arrived at the cemetery, the presence of Ezra and Caleb momentarily slipped my mind. The stark division between the resting places of the Pack's omegas and the werewolves was something we couldn't forget. We weren't permitted to share the same sacred ground. Our cemetery sat somewhat neglected, perched on a slight incline. In truth, calling it 'built' was perhaps a stretch; it was more a collection of weathered features. An ancient, rusted gate, its age easily spanning a century, creaked mournfully. A few meters of fence on either side of the gate stood in quiet solidarity, their metal surfaces bearing the scars of years exposed to the relentless moisture. Unlike the well-maintained werewolf cemetery, ours received no such attention.

I noticed the state of neglect, and to my surprise, so did Ezra. This place was unfamiliar to him. Both he and Caleb stood beside me, their brows furrowed in shared concern. Meanwhile, the other omegas, along with my parents, cautiously ventured further into the cemetery, eyes fixed on the treacherous ground. The rain from the previous night had left it muddy and slick, making each step a precarious endeavor. The atmosphere was heavy with an unspoken melancholy, the dilapidated surroundings mirroring the somber occasion.

"Caleb, do you know when this cemetery was last inspected for maintenance?" Ezra queried, glancing at his Beta.

Caleb nonchalantly shrugged, "I don't think it's been tended to since you came into power," he replied.

I couldn't help but let out an exasperated eye roll. "Let's face it, it's never happened," I voiced my discontent, my frustration palpable. Both of them turned to me, their attention fully captured.

"We omegas aren't exactly on the receiving end of special treatment, are we?" I remarked, my gaze firmly fixed on Caleb. Unlike last night, he seemed to be at a loss for words in Ezra's presence.

"Look, it's kind of you both to honor us with your presence, but I don't think this is a place suited for someone of your stature," I stated, my tone flat. I wasn't seething with anger, just thoroughly exasperated.

Ezra's expression darkened at my words. As an Alpha, he likely wasn't accustomed to such directness. Meanwhile, I was still struggling to reconcile his newfound authority with the familiar person I once knew. I addressed him the way I would any other Pack member, perhaps more candidly than he was used to.

His jaw tightened, and he fixed me with a stern gaze. "That's a decision for me to make, Jade," he declared, his tone unwavering. He didn't scold or raise his voice. He simply spoke with a firmness that brooked no argument. The weight of his authority hung in the air, a stark reminder of the shift in our dynamic.

I offered a nonchalant shrug, masking the complex emotions swirling within me. "Alright," I murmured, exhaling a heavy sigh, and moved past them, making my way into the cemetery. Engaging in a heated argument with Ezra was the last thing I wanted at that moment. The irritation I felt towards his presence was as frustrating as it was inevitable. It was my own fault, really. If I hadn't let my feelings for him develop, perhaps this wouldn't be so uncomfortably awkward. Or so I tried to convince myself.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I focused on what truly mattered at that moment, and that was bidding a final farewell to Momo. Taking careful steps along the treacherous, muddy path, I entered the cemetery, determined to pay my respects in peace. Each step felt weighted with a mix of sorrow and resolve.

The sound of powerful, deliberate footsteps echoed behind me. Without turning, I knew it was Ezra and Caleb, their presence almost tangibly intertwined with mine. It struck me as strange, this newfound ability to discern their scents. After all, omegas weren't known for having exceptional senses. Unlike our werewolf counterparts, who often boasted superior eyesight, hearing, and olfaction, we were closer in this regard to humans. Yet, since my return, I can't deny a subtle strengthening in my sense of smell and sound. For instance, at this very moment, as the Alpha and Beta tread over the muddied terrain, their footsteps shouldn't be resonating so distinctly in my ears, but they did.

Perhaps it was a mere coincidence, I reasoned. Maybe I was simply fixating on it too much. Surely, every other omega could detect them as vividly as I did. It couldn't be just me.

As I walked, these thoughts swirled in my mind, a mixture of curiosity and confusion adding to the emotions already stirred by the day's events. The scent of earth and rain hung heavy in the air, mingling with the distinct, potent fragrance of the Alpha and Beta, a reminder of the complex world we inhabited.

A gasp escaped my lips as my foot found a particularly slippery patch. It skidded, and my balance wavered dangerously. I fought to stay upright, knowing it was only a matter of time before I succumbed to the muddy terrain. I braced myself for the impending fall, but to my astonishment, it never arrived. My feet gave way, and I instinctively closed my eyes, bracing for impact. Yet, I was halted by the firm grip of four hands, steadying me from my shoulders and back. When I mustered the courage to open my eyes, I found Ezra and Caleb peering down at me, concern etched across their brows. Together, they had swooped in to prevent what would have been a nasty tumble.

"You've got to watch your step," Caleb admonished, his voice a mix of sternness and genuine care, as they both helped me regain my footing. The relief washed over me, mingling with a surge of gratitude towards the two werewolves who had come to my rescue.

The moment was overwhelmingly poignant for me. It marked the first time Ezra had made physical contact since my departure. It stirred a rush of old memories, yet I chose not to let them show. Instead, I cleared my throat, eager to put some distance between us as swiftly as possible. Still, I couldn't leave without expressing my gratitude.

"Umm, thank you," I murmured, the words carrying a soft sincerity.

Ezra's sigh carried a weight of resignation, and he nodded, his expression reflecting a mix of discomfort and understanding. "It's..." he began, but his words were abruptly swallowed by a sudden onslaught of putrid stench. It was unlike anything I had ever encountered before, a noxious wave that seemed to permeate every inch of space around us. The odor was so acrid, so gut-wrenchingly foul, that I felt an involuntary shiver of revulsion.

Instinctively, I raised my hand to cover my nose and mouth, desperate to shield myself from the overpowering assault on my senses. The stench hung in the air, clinging to me like a suffocating fog. It was so potent that it made me feel light-headed, a sickly sensation creeping over me. I could even taste it, a bitter, metallic tang that seemed to coat my mouth. The scent was an unholy amalgamation of decay and burning.

"Rogues," Ezra and Caleb muttered in unison, their voices carrying a mix of recognition and grim determination. Unlike me, they didn't seem to be affected by the overpowering stench as intensely. They inhaled it, their reactions measured and controlled, as though this noxious odor were a familiar part of their world.

"The border isn't far from here. I think those rogues are outside our Pack's territory, or else we'd have gotten a warning. Our warriors are out there, keeping watch. The eastern border has seen more trouble lately. We might need to put more warriors there," Caleb told Ezra.

As they deliberated over their strategy, I couldn't help but feel like a mere spectator, utterly sidelined by these two figures of authority. Their conversation underscored the profound division between their world of werewolves and my own existence as an omega.

The stench was unbearable, making me gag and struggle to form words. I kept my hand tightly over my nose and mouth, desperately trying to filter out the offensive odor. "Ugh, why do the rogues reek so terribly? Are they really this close to us?" I managed to rasp out, my voice strained. Each word felt like a battle, my throat burning from the noxious fumes. I let out a fit of coughs, trying to clear my airways from the acrid assault.

I observed Caleb and Ezra, their brows furrowed in concern. There was a brief, almost imperceptible exchange of glances between them before Ezra's expression turned quizzical. "Wait, you can smell it?" he inquired, genuine surprise coloring his tone.

"Of course. How could anyone miss such a strong smell? It's so overwhelming, I feel like I might actually pass out," I wheezed, my voice strained by the noxious fumes.

Caleb's frown deepened, while Ezra's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Have you ever encountered this smell before?" he inquired, his interest piqued.

I shook my head, my brows furrowed in confusion. Ezra exchanged a puzzled look with Caleb, both of them clearly taken aback. "That's because you shouldn't be able to. That's how rogues smell, Jade. Only a werewolf's nose is supposed to pick it up. How are you suddenly able to detect it?" Ezra voiced his concern, his tone a mix of surprise and worry.