Page 2 of Puck & Her Blades

Despite that fear, longing for a pack soars through me. My bones ache with it.

It feels the same as the desire to dance on the ice again.

If I’m not allowed to figure skate, then at least, let me have this.

Please.

The Beta administrator, Mrs. Lopez, snatches my wrist and yanks me out of the back of the black SUV.

When I land on the snowy pavement, it jars my leg, and I hiss out a pained breath.

She rolls her eyes. “Enough questions, Reject. You know better than to talk to me like that. We’re running behind schedule, and I shouldn’t have to work this late. I’m missing cocktails with the accounting department to deliver you.”

“The accounting department? Wow, that sucks.”

Lopez gives me a long look like she can’t decide if I’m being sarcastic and need to be punished.

I often walk that line.

It’s a badass talent.

Lopez is thin and harried looking with gray hair. Her navy business suit is immaculate; golden buttons gleam down the front like she’s even made the effort to match them to the Institute’s logo.

She shoves me against the side of the van with a bang, and the back of my head hits the side.

I yelp and then grit my teeth.

It’s night, and the moon is heavy in the sky. Clouds stream across it.

I shiver in my thin dress, as the winter breeze whips around me. My cheeks sting, and I wrap my arms around my middle.

Where are we?

I try to peer over Lopez’s shoulder, but she’s much taller than me (to be fair, everybody’s taller than me), and I can’t see anything.

My head throbs. “Hey, don’t bruise the merchandise.”

Lopez narrows her eyes. “If your new Alpha hadn’t paid twenty-one million dollars for you, then I certainly would. As it is, I don’t want to risk them demanding money back for damages. Still, you’re a twenty year old virgin and prettier than any of our other Omegas, as well as certainly being the most athletic and flexible. Alphas like that in their toys. Perhaps, they won’t mind a little damage.”

Twenty-one million?

My eyes widen.

Why would anyone pay so much for me?

Except, they didn’t pay for me.

In England, Omegas are property with no rights. Yet here in America, the three dynamics’ rights are enshrined in our Constitution.

Well, theoretically.

The Institute can’t — technically — sell Reject Omegas. But the Alphas who run it with the help of Beta administrators like Lopez can charge for housing, retraining, and matching their Omegas with a new pack.

For example, through online auctions.

Capitalism at its finest.

“That’s a lot, right?” I ask. Okay, I’ll allow a small amount of satisfaction that I didn’t go for a handful of chocolate coins. “Do they know about my damaged leg? Or did you just big up the whole daughter of the legendary Monroes thing with lots of pictures of me in glittery outfits under the spotlights? I’m kind of used to my parents doing that. Before my accident, I earned them millions in sponsorship.”

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