The Omega Who Rose from the Ashes: The Alpha's Regret

Bradley POV

My leg bounced under the polished mahogany table, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos in my head. I was nervous. Really fucking nervous. Something was going on back home - I could feel it in my bones, a persistent itch beneath my skin that no amount of shifting in my seat could soothe. And by Sam’s clipped, robotic report earlier, I knew it was big. He never spoke like that unless he was hiding his own worry behind a wall of formality. I’d known the man for years, long enough to recognize every crack in his composure, and today those cracks had been showing more than usual.

All I wanted was for this meeting to end. I’d agree to anything right now if it meant getting back to Trishelle. The thought of her calmed me and worried me in equal measure, a strange tangle of comfort and dread that had settled permanently in my chest since I’d left. Was it the bond James had with the pup? Was that the unbreakable link between them, the invisible thread pulling at me even from hundreds of miles away? I turned the question over in my mind again and again, as if repetition might finally produce an answer that made sense.

I should have moved my pack sooner. Then the pup would truly be mine. I could have saved her from the monster of her old Alpha, spared her those nights of fear I could only imagine and never fully understand. Guilt sat heavy in my stomach every time I thought of it, a stone I couldn’t seem to swallow past.

Right there, I made a decision. I would officially make her my Luna. I never should have postponed it, should never have let hesitation or old wounds keep me from claiming what was mine to protect. Then I would have had every right to gouge out the eyes of any man who even glanced at her sideways. The thought settled something in me, a resolve that felt long overdue.

Martha pinched my arm, sharp and deliberate. "Pay attention," she whispered without looking at me.

With a sigh, I dragged at least part of my brain back to the documents in front of me. They were proposing a merger, and if the numbers were accurate, it would mean great profits for my business. Still, my thoughts kept drifting home, snagging on Trishelle’s face like a splinter I couldn’t quite dig out. I glanced at my secretary for her female intuition, trusting her sharp eyes more than the columns of figures in front of me. Martha had been with me for six years now, and in that time I’d learned her instincts were rarely wrong. At her slight nod, I clapped my hands together.

"Gentlemen," I announced, "your numbers look promising. If it’s okay with you, I’d love to go over the contract with my team and get back to you within the week."

Everyone stood, smiles spreading across their faces, the kind of practiced satisfaction that came from men who smelled money on the horizon. This merger would be good news for them too, leading to larger contracts and more influence. We shook hands, firm and businesslike, and as they left, I shoved the documents at Martha, eager to be rid of the weight of them.

"Send this to the team so we can wrap this up ASAP. Oh, and call the plane. Tell them we’re on our way, so they should get ready."

Martha nodded, already tapping away on her phone with the brisk efficiency that made her indispensable. I sometimes wondered how she managed to keep three conversations going at once without ever losing her thread, but I’d long since stopped questioning it and simply been grateful for it. We got into the first car as a light rain began to fall, the droplets tapping against the window like impatient fingers, our security trailing behind in the second vehicle.

There were still no new leads on whoever tried to kill me, and the frustration was eating me alive, gnawing at the edges of my composure until I could barely sit still. Every unanswered question felt like another lock on the door keeping me from Trishelle’s side, another reason I couldn’t fully relax even now, even heading home. I leaned my head back against the leather seat, wishing I’d never left my pack in the first place, wishing I could rewind the past weeks and simply stay by Trishelle’s side.

I sent a quick text to the tech team: Create a proposal for remote meeting capabilities. I want all future meetings conducted from Goldmoon. I never wanted to leave again, not with Trishelle so close to giving birth. If that news got out, they’d be in danger too, and the thought alone made my stomach twist into knots. I pictured her alone somewhere, vulnerable, and had to force the image away before it swallowed me whole.

Traffic was light, so we made good time to the airport. I’d already packed my bags, knowing this was my last meeting for a long while, maybe ever if I had my way. The pilot, Jim, was doing his final pre-flight checks and waved us in, his easy smile a small comfort amid my rising anxiety. Jim had flown for me for nearly a decade, and something about his unbothered calm always managed to take a little of the edge off my nerves, even on days like this one.

I sighed and pulled out my phone, needing to hear Trishelle’s voice, needing that small anchor to steady me. The call went straight to voicemail. I frowned and dialed again. Same result. A cold thread of unease wound its way up my spine, and I found myself gripping the phone as though it might somehow bring her closer.

I called Sam. "Beta, where is my mate?"

Sam’s wolf immediately submitted to my Alpha tone, but I could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone. Something he only did when he thought I couldn’t tell.

"I left her in her room. Why?"

My grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening around the smooth metal casing. "I’m trying to call her, but she’s not answering."

Sam sighed, the sound crackling faintly through the line. "Alpha, the last I knew, she wanted to talk to Alpha James and then take a shower, since I didn’t let her get one this morning." He paused. "Maybe she’s sleeping after all the excitement this morning?"

The explanation eased something in my chest, though not entirely. "Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m finished over here, so we’re heading back."

Sam grunted in response, the kind of noncommittal sound that told me he was probably still rolling his eyes.

I laughed at my friend’s gruffness, some of the tension in my shoulders finally easing. "I’ll see you in a bit." Before I hung up, I added, "Oh, and let the team know to expect an email from Martha."

With business concluded, I leaned back and waited for the plane to take me back to my mate. The sooner the better. Every minute on the ground felt like an eternity now, each second stretching longer than the last as my mind conjured every possible reason for her silence.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t on my side. The light rain became a heavy downpour, hammering against the windows with a violence that mirrored my mounting impatience, and soon Jim got the news that all small aircraft were grounded due to strong winds.

I groaned and cursed whatever god ruled the sky. I was sure "Bob" - the name I’d given the petty deity - was being spiteful, taking some perverse pleasure in keeping me from home. It was a stupid, childish habit, blaming an imaginary force for my bad luck, but it gave me somewhere to direct the anger that had nowhere else to go.

The rain was too heavy for us to disembark, so we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. I told Martha to take the sleeping cabin. It wasn’t large, but it sported a full-sized bed and a small bathroom in the rear of the plane. I reclined in my seat, glad once again that I’d made the effort to ensure my comfort when I purchased and renovated this plane, though no amount of plush leather could ease the restless churn in my gut. I closed my eyes and tried to picture Trishelle safe in bed, but the image kept slipping away, replaced by formless worry.

I looked out the window at the pouring rain and wondered if it was raining where Trishelle was too, if she was curled up warm and safe while I sat here, useless, miles away. The distance between us had never felt so vast, or so unbearable.

Jim shook me awake some hours later. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep, but the knot in my neck told me it had been a while. I hid a yawn behind my hand and looked up at him, disoriented for a moment by the darkness outside.

"What’s the update?"

Jim smiled grimly. "Good news and bad. We’re cleared for take-off, but a situation came up. A commercial plane has an engine problem, so they’re circling to burn fuel before an emergency landing."

I bit back a groan. I was sure "Bob" was laughing at me now, thoroughly enjoying my misery. I cursed under my breath. "How long before we can leave?"

Jim scratched his bearded jaw, considering. "A few more hours. Guess there’ll be a queue, but we’re on it."

I just nodded and tried calling Trishelle again. Still no answer, and the silence on the other end felt heavier each time, pressing down on me like a physical weight.

I looked at the time and guessed she was back in bed. I left a voicemail telling her I was heading back, keeping my voice steady even as worry gnawed at me. I hoped nothing else happened. I stared at the phone long after the call ended, as if willing it to ring back with her voice on the other end.

Thankfully, "Bob" decided to heed my prayer. The commercial plane landed safely, and soon we were up in the air, finally on our way home, the hum of the engines the only thing keeping me from climbing out of my own skin with impatience. I counted the minutes the way some men counted sheep, each one bringing me closer to her, and still it wasn’t fast enough.