Omega's Christmas Ball

Tired

River’s heart stuttered when she saw a pair of polished, black leather shoes stop directly in front of her. Her lungs tightened painfully, and her breath hitched. No... no... this isn’t possible, she thought frantically. It can’t be me.

She couldn’t have been more unprepared for this moment. She hadn’t even spoken to the prince, let alone caught his attention. The absurdity of the idea made her head spin. The weight of his presence was palpable, suffocating, as if all the air in the ballroom was focused on her.

But then, her chest eased as the prince’s hand extended, not to her, but to the girl standing beside her. Relief flooded her body, her knees wobbling from the release of tension. Yet, strangely, a bitter pang of disappointment flickered in her heart.

Of course it wasn’t me, she chastised herself. Why would it be? But even knowing the impossibility, a part of her, a deeply buried, foolish part, had entertained the fantasy. Every girl dreamed of finding her prince charming, of being whisked away into a happily ever after.

Forcing herself to breathe steadily, she lifted her gaze and looked at the couple next to her. The prince, now holding the girl’s hand, was everything one might imagine. His blonde hair was impeccably styled, slightly longer than usual but adding to his princely allure. His striking blue eyes seemed to radiate confidence and regality. The expensive cut of his navy-and-gold embroidered suit only accentuated his commanding presence.

The girl standing with him was breathtaking, a vision of elegance and refinement. She had long, glossy dark hair and sharp, symmetrical features that looked like they belonged in a painting. Her gown, an intricate creation of flowing silver fabric, glittered like starlight under the chandelier. From her bearing and attire, it was clear she came from a high-ranking family.

River felt a wry smile tug at the corner of her lips. How ironic, she thought, remembering her earlier conversation with the stranger. She’d predicted exactly this, a match between the prince and someone of significant status. She almost laughed at herself for feeling anything but indifference.

As the prince and his chosen mate made their way toward the dais, the crowd parted like waves, all eyes following them in admiration. The king and queen stood at the center, their faces glowing with pride and approval. When they reached the dais, the king raised his hand, commanding the crowd’s attention once more.

“The Moon Goddess has smiled upon us tonight,” the king announced, his deep voice carrying easily through the vast room. “In three months’ time, my nephew, Crown Prince Thas, will complete the marking ceremony with Lady Marisa Khan, the beloved daughter of Councilman Khan.”

A roar of applause erupted in the ballroom. Smiles and murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd as people clapped and cheered for the royal engagement. River clapped along mechanically, her mind elsewhere.

Then the king stepped forward again, his regal bearing filling the space. “Tonight is not just a celebration of our family’s joy, but a celebration of love itself,” he declared. “And so, as promised, the chosen mate pairings will now be announced.”

A nervous ripple moved through the unmated members of the crowd. For some, this was the culmination of years of anticipation, the moment that would determine their future.

River shivered, her heart thudding unsteadily in her chest. She had no desire to stay and witness this spectacle, but her feet refused to move. She stood rooted in place, unable to escape the inevitability of the announcements.

One by one, the king listed the names of couples, each pairing met with applause and congratulatory whispers. River’s mind began to wander again, her body stiffening with each name as she feared the worst.

Then it happened.

The king’s voice echoed across the ballroom: “Now, from New Moon’s pack, we have thrilling news. Their capable Delta, Damon Steele, has finally decided to take the big step. His chosen mate is Tara Van. May their union be blessed by the Moon Goddess.”

The words hit River like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. She swayed slightly, gripping the fabric of her dress to steady herself. Her vision blurred, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded into a distant hum.

Damon Steele.

His name alone was enough to set her blood boiling. But to hear it followed by another’s, to know that he had chosen Tara Van as his mate, it felt like the final twist of the knife.

She forced herself to look toward the couple. Damon, as confident and imposing as ever, stood with Tara, the girl she had seen earlier with him and his family, a radiant young woman with flowing auburn hair and a graceful poise that seemed to scream perfection.

The crowd applauded warmly, murmuring words of approval about the match.

River’s nails dug into her palms as she fought back tears. It wasn’t the announcement that crushed her, it was the memories of what she had seen earlier. Damon and Isabella, entangled in their passion. His hands, his lips, all over her sister, yet here he stood, announcing Tara as his mate to the world.

Her stomach churned with a sickening mix of anger, betrayal, and heartbreak. She clenched her jaw tightly, willing herself not to break down in the middle of the ballroom.

Her emotions were a tumultuous storm: anger, betrayal, and an unexpected surge of vindictiveness. Isabelle. Her sister, who had already taken so much from her, first stole her money, and after she mated with her chosen mate. And yet, Damon had the audacity to stand here and announce another woman as his mate.

She had to see Isabelle’s reaction, just to confirm the absurdity of it all. Maybe, for once, Isabelle would feel an ounce of shame or guilt. Maybe her sister would look as betrayed and devastated as River felt.

Her gaze swept across the room, searching. It didn’t take long to find Isabelle. She stood near the edge of the crowd, her flawless figure draped in the crimson dress that hugged her curves. Her dark blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her face was... smiling?

River’s breath caught in her throat as she stared. Isabelle wasn’t angry. She wasn’t heartbroken or even mildly uncomfortable. Instead, she stood there, looking radiant and utterly unbothered, as she clapped politely and watched Damon with a satisfied smile.

How is this possible? River thought, her stomach turning.

A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she clenched her fists tightly at her sides. How could her sister smile after what she had done earlier? After stealing money from River, betraying her trust, and mating with Damon in such a raw and brutal way? River had expected Isabelle to show at least a flicker of emotion: regret, jealousy, anger. But instead, she seemed amused, as if she was entirely detached from the events unfolding before her.

River felt a sickening chill seep into her bones, and she knew she couldn’t stay there any longer. Quietly and discreetly, she slipped out of the ballroom, her steps light and measured as she made her way into the grand hallways of the castle.

The ornate beauty of the castle hit her like a balm to her frayed nerves. Gleaming chandeliers hung high above, casting soft, golden light on the intricately carved walls. The paintings that lined the corridor were exquisite, each one a masterpiece that spoke of the kingdom’s history and glory.

River slowed her steps, taking in the details of a particularly stunning portrait of a past queen. For a moment, she let herself get lost in the rich colors and textures, trying to drown out the swirling emotions that threatened to consume her.

But the reprieve was brief.

The cold reality of her situation settled heavily on her shoulders. She thought about the exhaustion she felt: deep and bone-weary. Years of waking before dawn, working until her hands were blistered, and her body ached, all to scrape together a life that seemed so thankless.

And now, this.

Her sister, Damon, the ball, the poverty, her parent’s struggles each month to have enough on their table and the constant humiliation. It was all too much. Her legs felt like lead as she continued walking aimlessly through the halls. For a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of running away.

What if I just left? Disappeared?

The thought was so tempting it hurt. She could vanish into the wilderness, leave behind the weight of her pack, her family, her unfulfilled dreams. She could start anew, find a place where no one knew her, where no one expected anything of her.

But then the reality of her limitations set in. She was an Omega who couldn’t even shift, tethered by her wolf’s withdrawal and the invisible chains of duty and obligation. And she could never abandon her parents, who were growing old and sick. Running away was a fantasy, a fleeting spark of hope in an otherwise suffocating reality.

River’s chest tightened, and she stopped to lean against a column, her eyes closing as a single tear slipped down her cheek. I’m just so tired, she thought, the weight of everything pressing down on her. She wasn’t afraid to face Damon or Isabelle. It wasn’t about fear at all.

It was exhaustion.

Years of betrayal, hard work, and loneliness had drained her. Her spirit felt crushed under the pressure of it all, leaving her with a hollow ache that no amount of rest could heal.

The sound of distant laughter echoed down the hall, and River opened her eyes, startled. She realized she had wandered far enough from the ballroom that the noise was muted, but not far enough to escape entirely.

She straightened, forcing herself to keep walking. If nothing else, she could take advantage of the brief solitude. For a few stolen moments, she didn’t have to smile, pretend, or face anyone. At least here, surrounded by the beauty of the castle, she could let herself feel the full weight of her exhaustion without judgment.

I just need a moment, she thought, her steps slow and heavy. Just one moment to breathe before I face them all again.