Sunlight poured into the dome, illuminating the polished marble floors that gleamed like a battlefield.
A sea of faces surged forward, journalists with cameras poised, ready to capture every moment; Omegas weeping, their sorrow palpable; and Alphas snarling at the security barricades as they pushed against the crowd.
On the street, a stage awaited, draped elegantly in the Rose family crest, its opulence stark against the turmoil surrounding it.
And there, front and center, stood Henry Thwaites, a smirk twisting his lips, his gaze a venomous dart aimed straight at her.
Cait’s breath caught in her throat.
“Coward.”
Dr.
Jameson leaned in closer, the subtle scent of cedarwood enveloping her, a calming presence amid the storm.
“Ready?”
Cait nodded, anger coursing through her veins.
The wheels of fate rolled forward.
“As ready as I can be, at least I am not seeing the walls melt at the moment.” The crowd’s roar swallowed her whole, a wild crescendo that both terrified and exhilarated.
“I will be right behind you. Just speak your truth, and we will fill in what you can’t,” Owen said as his grip tightened on her chair.
She should not be out here, doing this.
She was sick, seeing swirls from withdrawal from drugs that weren’t just suppressants.
Journalists surged against cordons.
Flashes exploded.
Holo-lights blinding.
Questions hurled like stones:
“Princess Caitriona! How does it feel knowing your mother betrayed Lord Rose?”‘
“Is it true Benjamin Agneau poisoned you?”
“Will you claim the throne?”
‘”Is it true that you have begun a relationship with Owen Thorne?”‘
The Rose Guard pushed back, Kieran pushing alongside.
“We will address the baseless slander of Henry Thwaites on stage. Now is not the time.” Kieran snapped.
Albert stepped in front, shielding her.
“Stand down!” His command sliced through the noise, icy and absolute.
Guards fanned out, forming a wedge.
Kieran slipped beside Cait, his voice assuring her, “Ignore them. Focus on the stage.” His green eyes flickered toward Henry.
“We’ll deal with the trash later.”
“She came in critical condition and should not be out here. You people are a disgrace.” Dr.
Jameson said with a grimace as he pushed steadily through the gauntlet.
Cait kept her gaze fixed ahead, ignoring the crush.
Her floral-scented pheromones spiked, a defense mechanism she couldn’t control.
Nearby Omegas gasped, swaying toward her scent.
Alphas bristled, protective instincts flaring.
Henry’s voice cut above the din, mocking.
“Look at little Omie whore Cait. Playing princess!” Laughter rippled through the Beta journalists.
Slurs hissed: “Already moved on with the boss, you omie slut. Silver whore.”
“You motherfucking,” Owen spat, turning, but Cait seized his wrist.
Her mercury eyes burned.
‘Don’t.’
Cait grunted as she wheeled herself the last few feet onto the stage.
She panted.
The mic awaited.
Sunlight glinted off her silver hair as she gripped the podium.
The crowd stilled, breathless.
She cleared her throat.
“Wow. Henry seems sane,” she laughed into the microphone.
“Esteemed journalists. Thank you for coming all the way to the hospital to see me.”
There were a few laughs and some awkward ones from the crowd.
“Ms. Agneau, are the allegations correct?” a journalist from the Beta Daily called out.
Cait laughed and leaned forward.
Her voice, amplified, rang clear and sharp as shattered glass.
“Hello, my name ‘was’ Cait Agneau. I was raised in Beta housing in too many sectors to count, scrubbing factory vents and doing courier gigs as a kid for credit chips for food.” She paused, letting the admission hang.
“The man who raised me did not love me; he loathed me. My own Mother hated me. They hated Omegas and Alphas. I thought it was because they were damaged by their parents. That was the intergenerational trauma that many Beta-Dominants and Betas suffered.”
Albert flinched.
Kieran’s knuckles whitened.
“The man who raised me was the worst male role model. I saw him a dozen times a year. After my mother died, once a year. So I did not have the highest bar, and so I dated Henry.”
Henry shouted, “No one cares, Omie Princess, do tell us how hard you have it when you go off to live your slutty princess story!”
Cait didn’t glance his way.
“You want a fairy tale? Here’s reality: Betas break their backs for wages that barely cover their needs. Betas with money, Betas in the government hoard the best supplies. They charge exorbitant prices for products harvested above the surface and manufactured by their people, who are paid even lower wages. Even as a beta, I knew this; this is why I went to school, started working in accounting for a Traverse raw material supplier, Thorne Incorporated, and planned to work in the Government myself.” She lifted her chin.
“I’m Caitriona Rose now, a former Beta. And I’m here to tear it all down.” There was stunned silence.
Then, roaring applause from the Omegas.
Alphas cheered in approval.
Betas stared, stunned that someone spoke out for them.
Cait leaned closer to the mic, her knuckles white on the podium.
Rain lashed the glass dome overhead, streaking the light.
“I lived as Cait Agneau. Beta housing, Beta wages.” Her voice wavered, and as a faraway-looking visual hallucination swirled behind the crowd of people.
Dr.
Jameson’s cedarwood scent brushed her senses, a lifeline.
She straightened.
“Accounting Logistics at Thorne International taught me one truth: exploitation isn’t biological. It’s systemic. Betas bleed the same as Omegas when Beta leadership fails.”
Henry could hear the things shouted at him by ‘Ben and those men’ about Cait in his head.
But as he heard Cait speak, he briefly remembered their political talks over at the synth-meat stand, when they would drink soju and eat spicy skewers and laugh.
Henry’s smirk faltered.
Journalists scribbled furiously.
“Everyone, you have been hearing from the man who necessitated this meeting, Henry Thwaites. I am here today because he thinks of me as a whore. Wow…” Cait’s mercury eyes pinned him across the crowd.
“My first love. My greatest mistake.” A dry, humorless chuckle escaped Cait’s lips.
“I paid his debts. Covered his shifts. Loved him.” She paused, letting the admission hang like a blade.
“He repaid me by taking half of everything, even my food. By stealing my nutritional supplements, the ones keeping me alive when the poison started wasting me. Credits, he said he would pay me back when we moved here three months ago. He dumped me over comms and left me with 300 credits and a fever so high I nearly died at work.” Cait’s voice sharpened to ice.
“Because caring for a sick woman didn’t fit his fantasy of an easy life.”
Gasps.
Murmurs.
Henry flushed crimson.
“Meg slut, lying priss!” he spat, but the crowd’s glare silenced him.
Owen stepped forward, his ice-blue gaze sweeping the journalists.
“Verification files,” he stated coldly, “are transmitting to your feeds now. Bank transfers. Medical logs.”
Kieran smiled, a fox’s grin.
“Including the holo-footage of Henry drinking her nutrient shakes outside her apartment as he tried to scam the rental deposit she paid, while she was in the hospital. Pathetic.”
Chaos erupted.
Betas surged toward Henry, shouting slurs supporting him.
“Alpha scum! Omisexuals!” Guards moved, blocking them.
Axel’s lemongrass scent spiked with fury as he lunged, but Orion hauled him back.
Cait didn’t flinch.
“This isn’t about Henry.” She lifted her chin, rainlight glinting in her silver hair.
“Every Beta is paid starvation wages. Because I worked hard. Like everyone, you and I almost starved to death. Not all of you had two assholes, though.” She chuckled.
Her gaze swept the crowd, lingering on the weeping Omegas.
“Burn the system? No.” A faint, fierce smile touched her lips.
“I’m going to repair it. From the tunnels up.”
Albert stepped beside her, his presence radiating authority like a thunderclap echoing through the atrium.
“Starting today,” he announced, his silver eyes aglow with determination, “Rose Consolidated will conduct a comprehensive audit of every subsidiary wage ledger. Back pay will be issued. Double shifts will be compensated.”
A warm smile spread across Cait’s face.
It was the first time Owen saw it, and it was on the Huge Holo-Display.
She was quite pretty underneath the sickness.
His hand fell to her shoulder, his crest visible.
Albert turned to Cait, pride mingling with the pain of past betrayals.
“My daughter will lead the oversight committee when she is well,” he declared, his voice steady.
Yet filled with an undeniable warmth.
Owen, standing firm, interjected with a voice that commanded attention.
“Thorne International will mirror these actions to ensure pay equity, auditing not only our manufacturers but also the companies from which we procure supplies throughout the Traverse. We will make sure that profiteering and price-fixing are relics of the past.”
The area erupted into a cacophony, cheers of jubilation intermingled with heartfelt sobs of gratitude.
Journalists clamored for answers, their voices rising above the crowd like the wings of startled birds.
Cait shook beneath her blankets, a mixture of thrill and fear coursing through her body, and Owen’s warm hand at her shoulder offered a steadying comfort.
Then, amidst the chaos, a piercing shriek sliced through the air.
“Gods, what the hell is happening to her. She’s foaming!”
At the edge of the barricades, an Omega reporter crumpled to the ground, his body writhing uncontrollably.
Foam bubbled on his lips, a harbinger of something sinister.
“Poison!” someone yelled, panic seeping into the atmosphere like an oil spill.
“Just like the princess!”
Dr.
Jameson, his expression a mask of focused alarm, was already rushing forward, his presence infused with the rich, grounding scent of cedarwood.
“Clear a path!” he barked, urgency trailing in his wake.
But Cait felt frozen, her gaze locked on the woman’s contorted form, and the small, glinting injector pen, carelessly discarded beside her trembling hand.
The unsettling realization struck her: she was a decoy.
Next, she caught sight of Henry, and an unnatural scent wafted off him, heavy and foreboding.
He was approaching the stage.
“Poison, someone is targeting the crowd.” Dr.Jameson shouted.
immediately dragged her and the pen inside.
Something was very wrong; her skin raised.
Her head snapped back to her ex-boyfriend, who was acting odd, even for him.
He had never been this radicalized before.
Henry might be the biggest douchebag in the Tunnel, but he was money-motivated.
He had been paid; he should be at some gambling house or watching holo-porn.
The look on his face, the snarl seemed to crumble intermittently.
“Henry, I do not know what you are doing. But you need to snap the fuck out of whatever has got you tranced.” Cait spat out with concern as she stared at him.
‘There are too many cameras, and eyes on us.’ he thought.
Owen stared daggers he could not kill him here, or there would be riots.
Henry swayed, “You fucking whore, you omies sure move from man to men quickly.” he shouted.
Henry was staring at Cait like he wanted to kill her.
Like he wanted to kill them all.
The feeling of anxiety he felt through their connection was not like the scent of her terror that was in the air at the moment.
His wrists itched, his muscles tensed.
“You ended this Henry, you decided to move on. Then you decided to spout lies, and humiliate me in a very public way. You are acting like I hurt you? You abandoned me.” Cait emotionally yelled back.
Kieran’s eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared as he processed the intense blend of smells, sweat, fear, and saltiness of beta.
Underneath it all was Cait’s unique fragrance, a Gardenia scent that was way more intense than it should be.
His nose picked it up, wafting unnaturally concentrated and cloying, the honey-like notes especially were amplified.
Floral and heavy, it hit his olfactory like a punch in the face.
It was a concentrated ‘terror’ pheromone, all trapped within a jar.
It was almost like she had been split in two.
His skin pricked with fear.
It was laced with something more sinister, an acrid, metallic undertone, Pyrethroids.
Poison.
Not just dispersed; it was weaponized, bottled chaos waiting to be unleashed.
He could see Owen, a beat slow, recognizing it too.
It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion.
“He’s out of his mind, Cait. He’s too far gone to be reasoned with.” Kieran said, looking at Henry.
Why would he do this, he was getting paid?
Kieran’s eyes scanned the crowd.
In the distance he saw a sewer grate drop.
Kieran’s omega instincts blared like an alarm, warning him of the imminent danger.
Without uttering a single word, he released a wave of his own pheromones, heavy and urgent, slicing through the mounting sensory overload.
Owen’s head snapped toward him, his blue eyes widening at Kieran’s alarm.
He knew in an instant what he was communicating.
An attack was coming.
He moved closer to Cait.
There was hundreds of Betas, he scanned the crowd and noticed Kieran’s gaze.
Albert stiffened beside him next, his own silver eyes scanning the throng with the precision of a hunter seeking its prey.
His jasmine pheromones spiked to alarm his staff.
It happened in a snap.
Henry erupted, his appearance wild and disheveled.
He stumbled into view, his eyes gleaming with frenzied malevolence, spittle flying from his cracked lips.
“You fucking Omega lying bitch!” he screeched, his voice cracking like a brittle twig.
“You hurt me, always morally superior and making me feel bad.”
“You are sick in the head, Henry. Stop. You need help.” Cait shouted, not knowing the danger.
Henry snapped, shaking with rage as tears poured from his eyes.
“Think you’re better? Your foul mutant hole was mine! Loose whore slut! Die, mutants!” Henry’s hands shook violently, clawing at the front of his cheap synth-leather jacket.
Beneath it, the bulging contours of a vest glinted ominously, pulsing with a sickly green light.
With a surge of adrenaline, Orion lunged forward, his cinnamon scent spiking in urgency.
“VENTS! ON NOW! HE’S GONNA BLAST! RUN!” His roar cut through the rising tide of panic, reverberating off the walls like thunder.
Orion began pushing towards the hospital building doors as he saw the guard start to protect the royal family.
Above them, ABO security drones whirred into action, streaking down from their vantage point, nozzles whining as they sprayed a thick, expanding foam designed to contain chaos.
But Henry’s vest hissed ominously, releasing a visible, shimmering mist, a toxic aerosolized cloud of poison mixed with Cait’s purloined pheromones, the concoction spinning a deadly web intended to disorient and kill.
Some people froze and died without having the chance to think about their last moments.
The people closest froze.
Unable to move under the terrified fugue of the pheromones.
There muscles staying taught and firm as they foamed and bled from every orifice.
Owen moved faster than thought.
One moment, Cait was in a wheelchair at the podium.
The next moment, she was crushed against his chest, the world blurring into streaks of light as he moved impossibly fast toward the hospital doors.
Kieran grabbed his father by the arm, dragging Albert hard toward the entrance.
“Orion!” Beckett screamed, looking around for the captain.
He was panicked, the man had sacrificed for him again, and again.
“INSIDE!” Sage yelled, commanding a flurry of movement as the crowd erupted into chaos.
Amidst the turmoil, Henry stood at the center, swaying as the poison entered his body, the compulsion to ‘Stop’ and complete his task strong enough that his amygdala held his position regardless of what was happening to him.
A sinister sneer was plastered on his face, ugly and twisted with delight that the gas was pouring out.
The foam kept his body erect as he swayed; the nefarious gas was meant to spread chaos and kill.
Beckett felt a push on his shoulders, “Get to a drone.” Orion said.
He took off running, trusting the Captain would catch up.
Orion knew it was too late, his hand clutched at his throat as the noxious fumes that filled his lungs burned.
Foam and blood spilled from his eyes, mouth and nose.
Panic surged through him, and his eyes rolled back as he fought the encroaching darkness.
Before he collapsed onto the ground, his body convulsed, a violent spasm that sent shockwaves of fear through those watching.
Beckett gasped, his heart racing as he grabbed and picked up an omegan child and barrelled just ahead of the gas cloud.
“Find any drone!” he yelled.
He attached the mask to the child first, and motioned towards the drone, securing masks.
The drones surrounding drones dropped P-ABO oxygen masks, but there were not enough to go around.
He could not spot Orion anywhere.
Beckett covered his face as the drones started spraying neutralization foam.
The world blurred into beautiful, colourful waves as the poison hit his skin briefly.
As the foam reached his ears the exposed flesh stung and burned.
Followed by relief as it rised.
The others screamed, choking on the invisible toxin, staggering backward and collapsing like wheat before a scythe, unable to escape Henry’s malevolent orchestration.
Sirens whooped loudly, the dome was illuminated in red.
“Emergency. Toxic Event. Please seek cover indoors. Repeat Toxic Gas Event, please seek cover indoors. Atmospheric venting in twenty seconds.” The AI Alert called out.
The dome blinked with the count down.
The heavy hospital doors slammed shut behind Owen.
Owen had caged Cait against the cool chrome wall, his body shielding hers, chest heaving.
Outside, the muffled sounds of dying faded into the drone’s relentless hiss and the thud of collapsing bodies.
“Don’t look.” Owen calmed her.
Cait trembled violently, her silver eyes wide, fixed on the sealed doors.
“Gods,” she said as she shook.
“It’s okay, you’ll be fine,” Owen assured himself and her.
Owen’s hand cradled the back of her head, his voice a raw whisper against her temple.
“Breathe. Just breathe.” But his own knuckles were white where they braced against the wall.
“It’s my fault.” Cait whimpered.
“He was here to kill me.”
“No, he was made to come here, and try to kill you. I think it was an attempt to finish what he started.” Albert said unmercifully.
Kieran flinched, he would have said something, but he spotted a small group of survivors.
A mixed crowd of Betas, Omegas and three guard members.
He frowned.
Orion was one of his grandfather’s guard members.
He had known him all his life.
Beckett was missing.
His second in command.
“Where are the others?” Albert asked.
Sage looked pale, “Outside.” he said, glum.
Their comms beeped with the emergency alert.
‘Take cover, toxic event.’ Cait heard, and she flinched, now knowing what the warning meant down below.
The comms beeped loudly on Owen’s wrist and in her earpiece from her comms in her room three floors up.
The beeping sped up.
Alarms shrieked through the corridors, a piercing, rhythmic wail that drowned out the chaos.
Red emergency lights pulsed overhead, casting long, frantic shadows.
Above, massive ventilation fans roared to life with a metallic groan, sucking the poisoned air upward.
“Atmospheric venting. Approximate duration, three minutes and fifteen seconds.” the AI called out, the voice eerily calm.
A loud metallic clanging was heard, followed by a loud deafening whooshing noise.
Trees swayed.
Leafs and dust flew into the air.
Possessions of the dead following, then the chairs.
The plexisteel gate fell fortunately before a loud strike of a chair collided with it.
The scene outside the hospital in the dome had become a charnel house as the innocents fell.
Betas, Omegas, and Alphas, status did not matter with poison.
In such a concentration.
The Betas never stood a chance.
Henry’s final act of hatred had found its mark.
ABO drones zipped through the hallways like frantic insects, sensors blinking crimson as they measured toxin levels.
“Containment protocol activated,” a robotic voice announced over the PA.
“All personnel, seal patient doors. Civilians, proceed to decontamination zones.” Panicked footsteps echoed as nurses herded weeping survivors deeper into the sterile labyrinth.
Albert stood frozen near the inner doors, his aristocratic composure shattered.
Silver eyes scanned the triage unfolding through the reinforced glass, medics in hazmat suits dragging convulsing bodies away, foam cannons spraying neutralizing agents over the fallen.
Orion lay motionless.
Albert looked away from the young man.
Beckett gasping with a PABO mask clamped over his face.
He might survive; hopefully, he would get up.
But the likelihood was low.
Albert frowned as he watched Beckett.
His hand pressed on the glass as the shields closed.
“Father,” Kieran called sharply, his voice strained.
“The vents are working, toxin levels dropping. But we lost…” He didn’t finish.
Overhead, the ventilation system roared like a hurricane, purifiers whining at maximum as they scrubbed the last traces of toxin from the air and sealed the hospital.
“Wait for initial numbers, and get ready to move. Don’t touch your faces or clothes.” Albert said grimly.
Even a little of the toxin could kill.
They were lucky.
Cait stared at the shutters as they dropped, her knuckles white on the arms of her wheelchair.
“We lost too many…” Cait finished his sentence.
A tear ran down her face.
“Henry couldn’t do that, he would never have the balls to… he was possessed,” she whispered, her voice raw.
“He was a coward. A selfish bastard, yes… but a Beta. He would just take the money and run. He wouldn’t kill dozens… kill me. He smelled… wrong.” Her mercury eyes narrowed.
“Chemicals, it also smelled like my armpits.”
Kieran crouched beside her, his fox-like features sharp in the pulsing red light.
“That wasn’t just hatred, Caitriona,” he murmured, his voice low and urgent.
“It smells like they used your pheromones or something close to them,” Kieran said.
“I think you have the power to compel people, even Betas. We have all felt it. It is possible the man who raised you noticed it, too.” He met her horrified gaze.
“Compell people, what the hell are you even talking about?” Cait asked.
“Powers?”
“Like how I got you inside so fast, I can move and lift even heavy weights quickly,” Owen said.
Dr.
Jameson’s face paled as he pieced it together, “The scars on her glands are from withdrawing pheromones. That bastard must have caught onto something, somehow,” he spat.
“He milked her glands.”
A horrified look crawled across Albert and Owen’s faces.
Owen looked at her neck glands.
What he thought were just freckles were scars.
He controlled himself; if he clenched his fist or held her too tight, he could break her bones.
He could feel a twang of horror or violation coming from her; he couldn’t tell, as she did not know how important pheromones were to Alpha and Omegans.
Cait shook in his arms.
“I think… I think Caleb West or Benjamin Agneau. Whatever that bastard is named, just sent his regards.” Owen said.
The implication hung heavy: Cait’s biology, twisted into a tool for murder.
Albert’s fist slammed against the chrome wall, the sound echoing sharply.
“His name changes, he was Caleb when he whispered in Yvette’s ears,” he snarled, the name dripping venom.
“He always knew how to poison what he couldn’t control.” His silver eyes burned with cold fury.
“He used your scent, Caitriona. Like a leash on a rabid dog.”
Owen moved, placing himself firmly between Cait and the sealed doors, his posture radiating protective menace.
“Then we find him,” he stated, his voice glacial.
“And erase him.”
Dr.
Jameson approached, his cedarwood scent a grounding presence.
“Decontamination first,” he insisted gently, laying a hand on Cait’s shoulder.
“Your system is still fragile. That toxin exposure…” Cait nodded, but her gaze remained fixed on the shutters, seeing not metal, but Henry’s hate-twisted face.
Benjamin’s shadow stretched long, tainting her victory with ashes.
Albert’s jaw clenched, a tremor running through him.
His gaze locked on the glass, on the crumpled form of a young Beta journalist he’d seen moments ago shouting questions.
“Poison, it is so insidious and cruel,” he whispered, the words thick with self-loathing.
“Used as a weapon. Again.”
Cait’s choked sob broke the moment.
She buried her face in Owen’s shoulder, fingers clutching his suit jacket.
“They’re dead because of me,” she gasped with despair.
“Beckett… Orion…”
Owen held her tighter, his lips pressed to her hair.
“No,” he growled, low and fierce.
“Because of him. And we will burn his memory to ash.” But his arms trembled.
Outside, the foam hardened over, creating Henry’s tomb, a monument to hatred.
Inside, Cait’s tears soaked into Owen’s jacket.