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Summary
“My name is Ophelia,” she snaps back, voice calm but edged, “and it is outdated because the dynamics you’re defending didn’t even allow omegas or betas access to education when this research was conducted.”
A beat.
“Maybe that was for the best,” Maxwell mutters.
The room goes still. Minerva straightens instinctively, alpha instincts flaring before she reins them in, but Ophelia is already moving.
“Why?” she fires back, canines flashing as she leans forward. “Because you’re getting outperformed by us in every class?”
A ripple moves through the lecture hall. Murmurs, a few poorly hidden laughs disguised as coughs. Maxwell flushes, scent spiking sharp and sour.
Minerva watches Ophelia more closely now. The omega isn’t backing down, controlled yet furious. She chooses her words carefully, Minerva observes, but they still have heat behind them. Her alpha stirs in her chest, intrigued.
Interesting.OR
Minerva knows the risks of wanting her omega student. She knows what people will say, what they'll assume, how it could all fall apart. She wants her anyway.