As the wind whooshed through his hair, loosening it from the restraints of the tattered elastic, Belen felt himself overcome with a sense of apprehension toward his new situation. Taking in the sight of a fresh start, all he could think about was the downtrodden future that was set before him. 

Petulence, an easy term used to describe his feelings. He knew that there was no other option but to accept his circumstances, and yet the worn road and the open window were the only thing keeping him sane.

He sought out the fresh air, far away from the commotion of life. Sought a distraction from the fury and pain that comes with being betrayed. 

Of course, he was overdramatizing. Moving to a new house isn’t quite as overwhelming as he has led others to believe. 

Marrying someone he had never met before though was understandably a little more cause for commotion. 

Leaning out of the beaten-down car, he became entrenched with thoughts of self-pity. He felt as though he still needed time to lick his wounds. It was his very own friend that was driving him to his death after all. 

“Are you paying attention?’

He wasn’t. Too busy feeling sorry for himself, the most he could muster was a side-eyed glance towards his so-called ‘friend’ and a roll of his eyes. 

In order to solidify pack relations, he was to be given up. Not willingly, no, but rather to be sold off like some kind of slave; a cow to the slaughterhouse, ready to be cut up and distributed to the potential buyers. 

That was the deal.

He, an otherwise worthless omega, was set to marry a privileged alpha for his pack to regain some semblance of their diminished control. 

They once were renowned. Mighty. Feared by all. 

Now though, they had too little land to even house their members; too small of an income to feed their young. As such, their only option was to join with another pack. 

“That didn’t mean they had to necessarily marry off their children to do it though,” Belen internally sneered.

Apparently, the pack they were going to become absorbed into was rather traditional. Although, Belen wouldn’t call forcing two kids to marry as traditional, so much as fucking insane.

What a delight. They just had to choose the pack that was crazy. 

“If you’re not going to listen to me, you’re going to miss out on what the plan is.” A voice drifted through Belen’s head. He didn’t want to acknowledge who was speaking as an actual person. They certainly proved that they were lifeless. 

A glare was all that was returned to the person from which the voice was coming from. 

“You’re being dramatic. You have months to get to know him. It’s not like you’re going in completely blind,” The voice returned, just as annoying and unhelpful as before it would seem. 

Pushing his hair away from his face, Belen finally faced them straight on. 

“You. You do not deserve to talk to me,” Belen gritted out. “I have been oh so trusting of you, and you, my supposedly dependable companion, Caleb, hath betrayed me in innumerable ways.”

“Pfft!” Caleb spat out. “What are you? Some 16th century noble?”

“Faithful in your name you may be, but wretched in your heart lies.” Belen couldn’t stop himself from sneering at the boy in disgust. How offensive to not be taken seriously. Yes, he was saying it in a way that would incite humour, but he felt as though it better portrayed his feelings of detestation.

“Stop being stubborn and listen to me. You’re going to be fine.” Caleb eyed Belen. 

“Fine is a massive overstatement. I’m getting married at sixteen years old to a guy I don’t even know.” Really, how could anyone be fine with this situation? 

Letting out a loud huff, Caleb seemed to give up and go back to staring at the road ahead. 

Belen, instead, kept staring at Caleb. He couldn’t believe the imposter that had taken over him. Who was this boy to betray him when he needed him most? A scoundrel, fatuous and so far integrated into a society that sacrifices their own kind to survive.

Maturity was not Belen’s strong suit, sure, but it did not mean he was wrong to feel contempt towards this person who was sodden with cruelty. 

How could someone who truly knew him, knew that the only thing this deal would end up with was a catastrophe, still insist they were doing the right thing?

Belen was done with thinking about it. He had spent too much mental effort misunderstanding feelings that apparently were never there to stay stuck in this mental maze. He would always come forth to the same conclusion. No one was on his side. 

His parents had died years back, a simple case of the flu turned deathly. Untreated, everyone knew that it was because of what Belen was. Disappointing your pack by giving birth to an omega was a monumental betrayal. No one wanted to save someone who had hurt them in such a way. 

Having an omega left the pack weak, and easy to conquer. Everyone knew that the omega themselves were not made to be free, but rather to serve under the allegiance of their owner, whoever that might be. Whoever could get to them first, really. It wasn’t necessarily hard to take something that couldn’t defend itself. 

Belen though had still hoped for some semblance of peace, of a way out. He was not the one who decided that he should be an omega. If he could have decided, he would rather the world change than have to change his gender.

Pulling his white hair fully from the constraints of his elastic band, he turned back to rest his arms on the car window and let himself feel the brush of the wind against his face.

Savouring his last few moments of freedom, he took in a deep breath and felt the salty ocean air sour his senses. He felt he could live like this forever. Never stopping, always moving with the wind from place to place. Never having to settle down and conform to the cruel world in which he lives. That would be his ideal life. So full of nothing, and yet everything at the same time. To be placated by the soft brush of life, caressing him in a way that took his worries far away. 

But, as evident by the gentle rumble of the car engine and the soft bumps of hard ground, he was not so lucky. In the end, he would still be trapped in a metaphorical jail, with nothing particularly arbitrary about it.