They remembered. They always did.
Even if no one else would.
I thanked them, tried to smile, and left for the pack house before my voice cracked in front of them.
Today of all days, I couldn’t fall apart.
When I arrived, the other omegas were already there. No one spoke about why we were early. We all knew. Ava’s birthday celebrations meant double shifts, extra eyes on us, and no mistakes allowed. We didn’t need to be reminded.
We were already working.
The kitchen was chaos from the second I stepped in. Huge trays of meat being prepared, stew bubbling in thick pots, stacks of fresh bread rising in the ovens. Fruit platters. Roasted vegetables. Pastries filled with honey and cream. The scent was overwhelming, and not in a good way.
It was hard to stomach food you weren’t even allowed
