Page 12 of Queen Of Clubs

As I search the shelves, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. My breasts ache, my stomach feels like someone is ripping me open from the inside out, sweat is pouring down my back, and if I don’t put on a descenting pad soon, I’m going to be out of another change of panties.

Finally, I find what I’m looking for and snatch it, cradling it in my arms. When I get to the front, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and bring everything to the counter.

The guy rings my items up, and the look he’s giving me makes me feel sick for a whole new reason. Alpha. And I bet anything he can smell me right now.

I slap a twenty onto the counter and grab my items. I don’t even wait for the change, not giving him the chance to try anything, and rush out of the store.

I’m halfway down the block before I let myself slow down again. There’s only so much further I can go before I become too weak.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

The plan was to leave, to take my money and get a plane ticket out of here. Now everything is ruined.

I can’t put myself at risk like this. If I get onto a plane, a small confined space with alphas while I’m perfuming like crazy, body slicking up a storm, it’s not going to be good for anyone.

The reality is, I’m forced to stay here for a few days until the transformation is done. Sleeping helps, it speeds up the process. Only where do I go to sleep?

Sleeping on the streets is too much of a risk.

I’m going to have to go to the omega center. There’s no other option. I’m not wasting all my money on a hotel, and the center will let me stay for free. They will give me a place to sleep, food to eat, and most importantly it’s safe.

As I search up the address to the nearest one, I start to walk in its direction. I could get a cab, but again, I only have so much money, and the buses aren't running this late. So even though I feel like crap, I have to walk.

There’s a fast food place still open on my way, so I slip in and head for the bathroom to put on a pad. It’s fucking nasty in here, so I do my best to make it quick.

When I’m done, I buy myself a small fry to go and head back outside. I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to stomach it, but I feel hungry.

I hate walking. There's no one around, just the odd sound of cars or sirens in the distance. I feel open and vulnerable. After what feels like hours of trudging along, I finally get to the omega center.

But before I enter, I look up at the moon again and let the tears flow. “You promised,” I cry softly. “You all promised you’d come back for me. Where are you? Why didn’t you come?” A sob breaks free as I continue to stare at the moon. “I hate you,” I whisper, knowing damn well my heart and soul wishes that were true. “I hate you.”

I’ve never felt so young and small as I do now, stepping into this omega center. I’ve heard some bad stories about places like this in other parts of the country.

Thankfully, only good things are posted about this particular center online, and I couldn’t find any articles related to anything sleazy going on here.

The place is quiet—as expected with it being so late at night, but it’s open all hours, so that was some good luck on my part—only the hum of some soft music filling the air. The only luck I seem to be having at the moment.

“Hello?” says a woman, who stands behind a desk in the center of the room. My hands grip my bag, and I take a deep breath through the pain and haziness.

“Hi,” I manage as I make my way over to the desk.

“How can I help you?” She gives me a friendly smile, and her nose twitches. A look of sympathy I don’t appreciate takes over her face.

“I, ah... I heard you take in omegas in emergencies?” I ask, unable to look her in the eye as I let my gaze wander around the room.

“We do.” She nods. “Do you need a safe place to stay?”

I clear my throat and nod. “Yes. Only for a few days.”

“Of course. You're welcome to stay as long as you need.” She gathers some papers and hands them to me. “All we need from you is an ID and to fill out these. It’s nothing personal, and there’s no wrong answers.”

“Okay.” I grab my bag and pull my wallet from my front pouch. Digging my ID out, I hand it to her before grabbing the papers and the pen she placed on top. “If someone came here looking for me, you're not allowed to tell them I’m here, right? It said on the website you're very strict when it comes to confidentiality.”

“Of course. The only exception is the police. And even then, they need a warrant before we release any information. We take our omegas’ care and safety very seriously.”

Her words settle me more than I care to admit. I feel like crying again, the tears from before just barely dried on my face.

“Thank you,” I whisper, then look away and down at the paper. I fill out some basic things like my name, birthday, and age. Thankfully, it lets you pick an option to not put down an address.

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