The Triumvirate's Omega

© Luciana Rielle 2026. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the author’s written permission.

The first thing I learned about Silvercrest Academy wasn’t written anywhere in the rulebook.

It was whispered in hallways, carved into bathroom stalls, and somehow present in every nervous glance that followed me from the moment I stepped onto campus.

Don’t look the Triumvirate in the eye.

Too bad one of them was already staring straight at me.

I hadn’t meant to crash into him. Literally.

One minute, I was wandering through the main building trying to find the Registrar’s Office. The next, I was sprawled across the polished marble floor with my books scattered around me and six-foot-something of muscle and trouble standing over me in the sharpest school uniform I had ever seen.

“Watch where you’re going, omega.”

Oh God.

Come on, Scar. Just open your mouth and apologize before this gets any worse.

Unfortunately, my tongue had apparently decided this was the perfect time to stop functioning, even though crashing into him hadn’t been entirely my fault.

Not that Scarlett O’Hara would ever have the courage to point that out.

Yep. That was me.

The Runt, as my pack so lovingly called me.

A human omega who was too soft, too naïve, and too different to fit neatly into anyone's idea of what an omega was supposed to be.

My relatives had a simpler word for me.

Freak.

Humans weren’t supposed to be omegas, and omegas certainly weren’t supposed to be human. Yet somehow I had ended up at Silvercrest Academy, where some of the strongest alphas in the country trained like someone planned to send them into battle after graduation.

And now, on my very first day, I was lying at the feet of one of them.

Fantastic.

I scrambled upright, gathering what remained of my dignity along with my books.

“I-I’m sorry.”

His golden eyes narrowed.

Great. Perfect. Amazing first impression, Scarlett.

Standing up only made things worse. I had to tip my head ridiculously far back just to meet his eyes.

Good goddess, how tall was this guy?

I was almost five foot five, which was a perfectly respectable height no matter what anyone said. Standing in front of him, however, I felt ridiculously small.

He had to be well over six feet, and the difference forced me to tip my head back just to see his face.

As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, heat was already spreading across my cheeks.

Being pale had its disadvantages. I couldn't blush discreetly like a normal person. No, my face had to announce my embarrassment to the entire world, turning red all the way to my ears and, if this continued much longer, probably down my neck too.

Why couldn't one thing go normally today?

And why, of all people, did I have to humiliate myself in front of someone so—

Handsome.

Annoyingly, ridiculously handsome.

I had eyes. There was no point pretending otherwise.

Blond hair fell untidily across his forehead, almost hiding the strange ember glow of his eyes. His skin was pale too, though nowhere near my apparently corpse-level commitment to avoiding melanin.

I realized with horror that I was staring.

Again.

“S-sorry,” I mumbled.

He said nothing.

Instead, he stepped closer.

Much closer.

My embarrassment disappeared beneath sudden confusion as he bent toward me, his face coming so near that I could feel his breath against my cheek.

What was he doing?

His nose hovered beside my skin.

Wait.

Was he... sniffing me?

Every part of me locked up.

Do I stink?

No. Absolutely not. I'd showered this morning.

Unless I smelled human.

Could someone smell too human?

Before my panicking brain could decide, his nose actually touched my cheek.

A squeak escaped me as I jumped backward, nearly tripping over my own feet for the second time in less than five minutes.

He stared at me like he couldn't understand why I'd jumped away, which was almost insulting considering what he'd just done.

Seriously? Somehow I was the strange one here?

I wasn't sticking around to figure him out. I turned and hurried down the hallway as fast as I could without technically running, though curiosity got the better of me before I reached the end.

One glance over my shoulder told me he hadn't moved.

He was still watching me, not angry or amused, but with a strange curiosity that made me wonder what exactly he saw when he looked at me.

My pulse picked up again.

“Nope,” I muttered. “We are not doing this.”

Whatever this was, I wanted no part of it.

I kept walking and, after another few minutes of searching, finally found the Registrar’s Office.

The moment I stepped inside, I became painfully aware that Silvercrest apparently believed ordinary furniture was beneath it. Polished wood gleamed beneath enormous chandeliers, and everyone behind the desks looked important enough to have assistants of their own.

A silver-haired woman wearing glasses glanced up.

“You must be Scarlett O’Hara.”

I nodded. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Her welcoming smile immediately made breathing easier.

“We’ve been expecting you. Congratulations on earning the Epsilon Scholarship.”

“I still don’t really understand how I got it.”

“You scored within the top one percent on the national assessment. Silvercrest awards only five Epsilon Scholarships each year.” Pride warmed her expression. “You earned your place here, Miss O’Hara.”

Something inside me softened.

No one at home had said that.

“Thank you.”

“To keep the scholarship, you'll need to maintain a GPA of at least 3.8, attend all mandatory training sessions, and complete your weekly practicum hours.”

“I will.” The answer came quickly. “I won't lose it.”

“I believe you.”

She rose from behind the desk and gathered several papers. “Come. I'll show you around.”

I followed her into the corridor, where she began explaining the campus as we walked.

Silvercrest had three main dormitories—A, B, and C—but students weren't separated into entirely male and female buildings. Instead, each dorm was divided into wings according to rank.

She stopped beside a campus map and pointed out the sections.

“Alpha males occupy the East Wing, while Alpha females are assigned to the West. Beta students share the North Wing, and omegas occupy the South.”

I stared at the map.

“Boys and girls live in the same dorm?”

“The same building, yes. The individual rooms are single-gender, and access between certain areas is restricted.”

That sounded considerably less scandalous.

Then I noticed another section at the top of the map.

C-UPPER WING — RESTRICTED.

“What about that one?”

Her finger paused over it. “The Upper Wing is reserved for a particular group of students. It won't concern you.”

Which, naturally, made me want to know everything about it.

Before I could ask, she continued down the corridor.

“You'll be in Dorm C, South Wing, third floor. Room 3C-21. The building is supervised around the clock, so you have nothing to worry about.”

That was the second time someone had mentioned safety since I'd arrived.

Was I supposed to be worried?

We reached the Uniform Office before I could dwell on it. A man behind the counter handed her three neatly folded sets of clothing, along with shoes and a blazer.

She passed one set to me.

“Your Tuesday uniform. Everything has already been tailored to the measurements you submitted.”

I unfolded the shirt enough to inspect it.

Oh.

One look at the uniform was enough to tell me it wasn't going to hide a single curve.

Wonderful. A very small, very nervous, very curvy marshmallow wrapped in expensive fabric. Exactly the first impression I was going for.

“Welcome to Silvercrest, Miss O’Hara,” the man said.

“Thank you.”

By the time we left the main building, fear and excitement had become so tangled inside me that I couldn't tell which one was winning.

This was real.

I was actually here.

Maybe this could be the beginning of something different. A chance to make Mom proud and prove that being the Runt didn't mean I had to remain one forever.

The dormitories stood on the western side of campus, three enormous crescent-shaped buildings overlooking the grounds. Dorm C was somehow even grander inside, with more marble, more chandeliers, and carved statues of wolves and phoenixes flanking the staircase.

Did this school own shares in a marble quarry?

We climbed to the third floor.

“You'll share your room with two other students,” the registrar explained. “They're both in class, so you'll meet them later.”

As we walked, she went over the dorm rules. Opposite-gender wings were off-limits, students weren't allowed private romantic visits after hours, and relationships were permitted as long as everyone respected the residential boundaries.

That last part caught me.

“They allow relationships?”

She laughed. “This is college, dear, not a convent.”

“Oh.”

Right.

Obviously.

Not that it mattered to me. I had approximately zero romantic prospects and intended to keep it that way until graduation.

We stopped outside room 3C-21.

“You may begin classes tomorrow if you'd prefer. It would give you the rest of today to settle in.”

“No.” I answered so quickly she raised her brows. “I mean... I'd rather start today. The semester already began yesterday, and I don't want to fall behind.”

Her surprise turned into an approving smile.

“Ambitious. I like that. Change into your uniform, and I'll return shortly to take you to your first class.”

Once she left, I finally had a chance to look around properly.

The room was much bigger than I'd expected, with three beds arranged around the space, matching desks and enormous windows overlooking the courtyard. My luggage had already been stacked beside the bed in the far corner.

I crossed over and opened the largest bag.

Mom's photograph was sitting right on top.

Seeing her face made everything else—the enormous school, the terrifying students, the scholarship, the strange blond guy sniffing me in the hallway—feel suddenly very far away.

I picked up the photograph and kissed her cheek.

“I'll make you proud, Mom,” I whispered. “I promise.”

Then I carefully put it beside my bed and turned my attention to the uniform.

The white shirt fit exactly as promised. So did the dark pleated skirt, which hugged my hips before falling above my knees. The blazer pulled everything together at the waist, while knee-high socks, polished shoes, and a silver wolf-shaped crest completed the uniform.

When I finally stood in front of the full-length mirror, I barely recognized myself.

I still looked nervous. My cheeks were still pink, and no uniform on earth was going to make me taller.

But for once, the girl staring back at me looked like she belonged here.

Maybe that was enough to convince everyone else too.

Drawing in a breath, I fell back on the ridiculous little chant I'd been using since I was younger whenever something scared me.

“Chin up, chest out, heart don’t flop,

Don’t squeak, don’t faint, don’t fall, don’t drop.

Walk straight, don’t trip, don’t crash, don’t die...

Okay, maybe just try.”

A laugh escaped me despite myself.

“Just try, Scarlett.”

That I could do.

When I stepped into the hallway, the registrar was already waiting. Her face brightened the moment she saw me.

“You look wonderful. Ready to become part of the Silvercrest family?”

Family.

Something about that word made me pause.

Maybe she only meant that everyone here was close.

Or maybe there was finally a place for someone like me here.

I tightened my hold on my books and smiled.

“Yes. I'm ready.”