Page 17 of Unbreak Me

I trudged back to my booth, feeling strangely better—like maybe my situation wasn’t the worst after all. Star definitely had it harder. At least Nolan made sure I had a comfortable spot, not so much in front.

And so I sat there, staring into space, chain-smoking cigarettes, and generally having uneventful hours.

I don’t know how long I was sitting like that when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone awkwardly leaning close to my information board.

He slowly raised his head, and our gazes crossed. And I trembled. A strange sensation, but I quickly shook myself out of it. It probably felt so surreal—like a shiver of excitement running through me—because, for the first time, someone read myboard. That had to be the reason for my weird reaction. Someone was really interested?

But then I took a second look. Something wasn’t right. The guy was… well, very muscular, but too short to be an alpha. Alphas weren’t short—it was practically hard-coded into their genes. I’d read somewhere that half of alphas were 6’4"; the rest were between 6’5" and 7’5". Only a marginal 1% were 6’3". Exactly one tiny percent! For some genetic reason, alphas shorter than that were basically unheard of.

And this guy? He couldn’t have been more than five eleven or six feet tall at max.

So—a jacked beta. An alpha wannabe who insolently wandered into the omega section, checking us out.

Relationships with betas were heavily discouraged in ABO society since we had great hormonal differences and distinctive needs, and such couples had a very low success rate. Only a tiny percent of such relationships lasted longer than a decade. Either alphas or omegas—we weren’t just on the same page with them.

So. No way in hell was I going to accept a contract from a beta.

…Though I had to admit, the guy caught my eye. He was very handsome, and there was something about him—this gentle, yellow-lab energy—that reminded me of my ex.

No. Don’t even think about it, Day!

I was just about to say something through the intercom when the older omega employee who managed my booth and a few others around suddenly materialized out of thin air. He said something to the beta, who looked startled and started to walk away.

Phew! A close call. I was glad he was gone.

But for some reason, my eyes followed him as he hurried away. Something squeezed in my chest, painfully. Just a beta, for fuck’s sake!

Wait!

A ridiculously tall silhouette appeared in the distance—Storm Nolan himself, practically ‘storming’ down the aisle in pursuit of the beta.

Was he crazy?! I’d made it very clear in my initial questionnaire—no betas! What the hell was going on?

As they exchanged some words and got closer, I slammed the intercom button and hissed, "No! No betas!"

My tone was sharp, like a whip blow.

The beta’s face crumpled like I’d slapped him hard. He paled, blinking a few times.

And my heart sank. Why the fuck did I do it so rudely?

The guy was innocent, after all—just guilty of being a beta. He hadn’t meant any harm. Maybe he even liked something about me? Perhaps he had some foolish dream of creating something with an omega, but… I wanted children, and betas were infertile. I wasn’t the one for him.

And anyway, I wasn’t planning on finding anyone here, so why even bother?

Still, how harshly I’d shut him down didn’t sit right.

I clenched my jaw as I watched him sprint away—literally sprint—like he was afraid of me.

The twisting in my guts made me swallow hard. Oh, well… but what was said was said—too late to take it back.

I quickly glanced aside, not wanting to watch him disappear into the crowd along with the hopes I’d just crushed.

Nolan turned to me then, his glowing eyes narrowing in anger. His jaw twitched, muscles working as if he wanted to say something—but at that moment, his phone rang. He walked off in a hurry, leaving me alone again.

For the next few minutes, I sat there, feeling strangely all over the place.

I forced myself to feel glad I’d fended off that beta, rationalizing ithard. He was probably just a poser or a freak, pretending to be something he wasn’t! The last thing I needed was some delusional beta buying my contract and causing problems during my heat. I’d spent the past decade dealing with it alone, and I was tired of it. My collection of dildos barely fit under the bed as it was.

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