Page 34 of The Omega Trials: Part One

She’s survived worse.Worse than us.

It’s a paltry comfort. Being the lesser of two evils.

“You will remember your place, Omega,” Titus states flatly. “You will show respect for your alphas, your Elders, and the Echelon.” His voice lacks conviction, his words slow and drawn out. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s stalling. But Titus never avoids what is necessary, no matter the discomfort. And fucking hell is this uncomfortable.

Sinclair drags her lip through her teeth as if physically refraining from talking back. Her eyes quickly flick to the floor, and I half expect her to spit at his feet.

Her gaze raises with calloused resolve, shuttered but no less present. She’ll take whatever is coming, but not because she’s submitting. She’s enduring.

“Yes, Alpha,” is all she says. Innately, I know—we all do—that there’s no point waiting for anything else. There will be no apology or begging for mercy.

The slap comes swiftly and without hesitation. The crack reverberates through the room like an echo chamber. A communal gasp follows as if pulled from their chests by the force of his blow.

She lands on the floor, catching herself with her hands, her legs crumbled under her. Now, I’m the one to hold Bishop back. His chest rises and falls under my palm, his heart pounding.

Her head hangs. A vivid red blooms across her cheek, bruised streaks in the shape of Titus’s fingers already forming.

Something scratches inside my chest the longer she’s on the ground. Years of conditioning grate my psyche, and I can’t help but order, “Get up.”

Don’t stay down. Don’t let them see you fall. Rise. Stand. Keep fighting.

The uncomfortable itch and constricting tightness don’t abate until she pushes to her feet. Even with her eyes menacingly locking with mine like she wants to gut me alive, I feel relief.

And pride.

That’s our omega.

“You’ve been gifted an omega and have formed a noble pack. You will stand with this pack and together either rise to success or crumble into failure.” The Elder speaks like a professor, delivering profound information while at the same time making it sound routine. I was never enrolled in university, but I wouldsneak into lectures so I could keep up with my rich, educated clientele. The packs even arrange themselves in staggered semi circles before him like a lecture hall.

The only difference is we are all standing, and speaking out won’t you get you kicked out of class, but corporally punished.

“The Trials are not isolated events. They began the moment you all stepped into this hall two nights ago for the gifting ceremony and will continue over the next four weeks. You will be tried against the five integral values of nobility: vigilance, intelligence, courage, fortitude, and loyalty.

“Some of these Trials will be announced and you will know what you are walking into. Other times, you will be tested without warning. Everything that occurs from this point forward could be a Trial.”

One of the alphas in front of me whispers conspicuously to his brother and scoffs, “Like we won’t know.”

The Elder’s eyes slice to them and his lip tugs in a sneer. “Do not make the mistake of thinking you know what to expect.” The two guys snap to attention. “Every generation is tested on the same values, but through different means. Any stories your fathers or uncles may have shared with you about their Trials are completely irrelevant. There is only one Trial that has remained the same throughout all the years.”

Titus glances at Bishop and me, and we offer discrete nods. This is the only Trial we know about. The only Trial that is talked about outside of noble circles. It’s whispered in the dark underground and criminal underbelly of Cape Aurelia. It is used as a threat to elicit obedience in syndicates and trafficking rings.

It is the modern equivalent of gladiatorial games.

The Elder clasps his hands together. “And tomorrow, you will face it.”

Cliques

Sinclair

I’ve never seen so much food in my life.

The dining hall has two long, grand tables covered in serving platters of biscuits, eggs, sausage, baked beans, fresh fruit, and roasted tomatoes. The butter is needlessly sculpted into each family’s animal mascot.

I pile my plate high even though my jaw is sore and I’m sure it will ache to chew. It was forty-five minutes ago, but my cheek is still hot to the touch from the slap.

Get up.

Ecker’s shallow command stung more than Titus’s strike. I’d never felt more alone than I did in that moment, looking up frommy pathetic huddle on the floor to see Ecker actuallystoppingBishop from helping me.

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