“Zaley Cuppencia?” the first guy asked, and I felt my Alphas close ranks around me.
“Depends who’s asking?”
“My name is Official Feldman, from the Department of Designation Associations.”
I bared my teeth at him in what could have been a smile, if you were an idiot. “Canada doesn't have such a Department, Official, so I suggest you turn around and leave.”
Feldman gave me a smarmy smile, but his buddy took over. “Of course not, Miss Cuppencia. But we do have jurisdiction over US citizens living in Canada.”
Panic seized my chest, but then I remembered what we’d just done, and I gave him my ownfuck youexpression right back. “I’m not a US citizen.”
“You are according to your birth certificate. According to your records, you were born in Boston and you were sent here after your parents died.” Well, that was skipping a big chunk of it but it was the general gist. “However, you never obtained Canadian citizenship, so as a US Omega, you are obligated to return with us and participate in the Allotment.”
Xander stepped forward, and only Victor’s hand on his arm stopped him from beating these fuckers into the ground. But they didn’t know I’d been unintentionally preparing for this moment for years.
“Oh, I know all about the Allotment, sir. I know all about your country’s views on Omegas, and the way they’re treated. Poor, helpless Omegas, needing to be raffled off to the next closest man to make sure they don’t hurt themselves.” I snarled. “I don’t need you, or a government who are little better than sex traffickers—no one does. So, let me spout at you some of your own legal obligations, shall I?”
I straightened, pulling my shirt to the side so they could see the bondmarks on my skin. “According to your very own laws, no mated Omega with two or more Alphas will be forced to undertake the Allotment. I assure you, you don’t have a vision problem. These three are Alphas, and they are my mates.”
The Officials looked at the triplets, and their demeanor lost all traces of jovial niceties. The unnamed Official raised an eyebrow. “Those look fresh. I believe we might have to take you with us back to the States, until the legitimacy of this mating can be verified.”
I snorted. “So neither of you are Alphas? Unsurprising.” I looked them up and down, screwing up my nose in distaste. “You’re welcome to drag an Alpha up here to confirm, but I’m not going anywhere with you. Under the North American Accords, a mated Omega gets automatic citizenship of whatever country her primary Alpha is a citizen of—in this case, all three of them are Canadian citizens. So I’m more than happy to call our government too, to see who can swing their dick bigger, if you’d like?”
Will nudged me with his elbow. “Looks like the government is already here.”
I looked over, and while it wasn’t a convoy of Canadian civil rights lawyers, it was the Sheriff's car, and that was close enough. The Sheriff climbed out of the driver's side. He’d been friends with Pa back in the day. He was old and grizzled, and he’d seen some shit. He’d also pulled me and the Yale Triplets out of more than a few scrapes.
I smiled widely at the older man. “Good to see you, Sheriff.”
The Sheriff pulled off his hat and swung it against his thigh. “Sheila next door called in a disturbance. Why am I not surprised to see you four here, causing trouble?” he huffed, but there was a grin on his face.
Then I noticed his deputy. “Teller! When did you join the force?”
Teller was giving the US Officials the stink eye, but gave me a crooked smile when he looked over. “About a year now, Za. What’s going on here?”
The role suited him. “Nice! So, guess what. I’m an Omega, and the Yale triplets are Alphas.”
The Sheriff managed to hide his shock well, but Teller’s jaw unhinged.
I continued, trying to brush off their surprise. “Thesemen”—I spat the word—“want to take me back to the US to put me in their weird Omega Lottery, despite the fact that I’m mate bonded to Will, Xander and Victor. They think I belong to the US because Ma and Pa never officially adopted me.”
All good humor on the Sheriff’s face disappeared. “I think you’ll find that’s against the Accords, gentlemen. I suggest you turn around and go back to your own country, before I call in the Feds and this turns into more of a diplomatic issue.”
I didn’t know if the Sheriff could actually do that, but the Officials narrowed their eyes. They started to argue when Teller’s phone rang. He held up a finger as he answered. “Deputy Jones. Yep. Yep. Okay, thank you.” Whoever he was murmuring to made him smile. Maybe it was the Feds, or maybe it was Sheila Lupeski.
“That was Miss Elizabeth over at the Stop ‘n’ Stay. She says the hotel has a sudden vermin problem that needs to be taken care of, and you need to vacate your rooms ASAP. She’s heading over to clear out your stuff as we speak. Might be best to collect your things and leave town so you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. Not another motel in a forty-mile radius after all, and it's getting late.”
All our neighbors had come out to stare at what was happening, and not one of them looked happy. It looked like the ending of a horror movie, where there was a small-town mob and the unsuspecting main character was about to get stomped into the ground with torches and pitchforks.
Feldman looked around with a scowl. “This isn’t over,” he hissed, but I shook my head.
“Unless you come back with an Alpha or an extradition order, itisover. Pick your battles, gentlemen, because this isn’t one you’re going to win.”
I could tell he wanted to say something else—his face was turning red and his mouth was opening and closing—but the other Official ushered him away. They climbed back into their car and screeched away, every person in the street watching them go.
The Sheriff frowned after them. “I’ll get the boys to follow them out of town.” He walked back to his car, talking into his radio.
Teller looked between us all. “So… Omega, huh? Makes sense now, you know.” I huffed a laugh, because it did kind of make sense now. He looked up at the guys. “You guys make sense too. Never met an Omega before, but I did meet an Alpha in the Academy. Big bastard, and kinda mean.”