-LILIAN-
His confession hung in the air, a fragile bridge built over an abyss of pain and anger.
The weak Omega, the captive, now walking freely, holding his hand.
Alexander’s grip tightened on mine, a silent signal of reassurance. He led me directly to the head of the table, where two ornate chairs, his and a slightly smaller one usually reserved for a visiting Luna, stood. He pulled out the smaller chair for me, a simple gesture, yet one that spoke volumes. It declared my place, not as a captive, but as his equal.
Murmurs rippled through the room. Whispers of "The Luna," "The Omega," "What is happening?" followed me as I gracefully took my seat. My chin was high, my back straight. I met their stares, allowing no weakness to show. This was my demand. This was his promise.
Alexander
