Page 1 of Chosen Beta

Chapter One

Lana

One sip of coffee, three phone calls, and four dozen fresh, scathing emails from parents: all condensed into the thirty-six minutes I haven’t even officially been at work.

By the time the clock officially hits nine a.m., I force myself to ignore the flurry of undoubtedly angry responses to the emails I just sent, turning away from the screen and picking up my mug, only to discover my coffee is stone-cold.

The internal debate over whether to nuke it in the nearest microwave or accept that my caffeine hit gets to make me grimace with every sip takes about five seconds of my valuable time.

I slip my feet back into my low-heeled pumps while I gather the energy needed to walk over to the staff room inside our newly opened medical wing.

After last month’s crazy intake of abused Omegas in urgent need of medical attention, and the recent loss of three-quarters of our security staff, it’s been all systems go, 24-7, at Goldcrest.

It doesn’t help that the changes I’ve been making haven’t been going down well with our current benefactors. Turns out rich assholes don’t like being told their money can’t buy them whatever the hell they want.

Who would have guessed?

Too bad for them, the new head administrator of Goldcrest Academy can’t be bought.

The Omegas here are under my care now, and I won’t let them down like their predecessors did.

I’ve seen what this place was like before. I know how it can be turned around.

It’s not an easy job, but I’m determined.

I’m just also kind of tired.

Sighing, I get to my feet.

The landline phone starts to ring again, and I wince at the handset.

I know if I pick up the receiver, I won’t make it to the staff room.

That’s not happening today.

Last week was insane. Two whole days passed where I actually forgot to eat.

That’s crazy, and it’s not sustainable.

I divert the call to the answering machine system, smiling wryly as I remember I still need to hire my own replacement. It’s been so busy I don’t see myself finding the time to train someone, but it would definitely lighten my load if I had someone to help screen calls.

“It’s on my list,” I assure myself out loud as I walk around the desk and head out of the office with my mug of cold coffee.

Unfortunately, that list has done nothing but grow since I stepped into my new position as head of the academy, and last month’s big emergency intake did nothing to help.

The entrance hall is empty, reception desk abandoned.

If I didn’t know any better, I might assume the whole place had been abandoned.

The space is silent and my footsteps echo across the tiled floor loudly.

My office is at the front of the building, on the left, the Omega suites are at the back of the building, and the new makeshift hospital is housed in the previously underused right wing of the academy, where the medical staff used to run health checks on the Omegas.

If the building plans ever stated what this wing was meant to be used for, someone lost them a long time ago. Currently, I have plans to overhaul the wing to accommodate a permanent medical facility, but that’s presently somewhere near the bottom of my arm’s length list of tasks.

Right now, I’m off-list.

The sounds of voices and machines float out into the corridor as I push open the door that leads into the new medical wing. A nurse with a medication tray gives me a smile and a nod as she passes on her rounds.

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