Page 35 of The Omega Trials: Part One

Even in the basement cell of the Doll House, I didn’t feel as alone. While my burn was healing, I saw someone every day or two when they brought food. It was a short handoff, maybe a few empty words exchanged.

But there was something in the air, a knowledge of communal suffering that kept me from this bone-deep loneliness.

Because isolation is different from being truly alone. I wasisolatedin that dingy cell, but in the hall, with my cheek screaming and my hands flat on the cold marble, I was completely on my own.

The Elder’s speech about fighting and succeeding alongside your pack only smarted more. The guys may be a pack and have all the camaraderie and brotherhood that comes with it, but I’m not part of it.

I’m not part of the pack. I’mpropertyof the pack.

“You going to eat your toast?” Ecker nods to the bread perched on the edge of my plate next to a mound of scrambled eggs and baked beans.

“Yes.” I snatch it up and take a pointed bite. I don’t bother pointing out that it’s barely been five minutes since we sat down and there’s a tray of buttered toast two plates down.

“If you give an alpha a slice of toast . . . ,” the omega to my left says with a light chuckle. I didn’t pay her any mind when we first sat down, too wrapped up in my own head. As she brushes her silky, black hair off her shoulder, I notice her ceremonial skin carvings right away.

Unlike mine, hers are small flowers etched along her collarbone. The white, off-the-shoulder blouse she’s wearing shows them off like they’re a work of art rather than a brand of ownership. Above one collarbone, there’s a healed bite mark that is darker than the rest of her warm light-brown complexion.

“I’m Paisley, the Beryll omega.” She pops a strawberry into her mouth then offers her hand. Her skin is soft and warm, but her grip is surprisingly strong.

“Sinclair.” I can’t stomach identifying myself as the Cerulean omega, so I leave it at my name. Titus’s heavy gaze watches me distrustfully from across the table.

I challenge him with a look, lifting my brows and tonguing my cheek.If you’re so worried about what I might say, maybe you shouldn’t be such an enormous asshole.

He sniffs dismissively and folds over his plate, both forearms on the table as he shovels food angrily into his mouth.

Paisley catches the interaction. She again surprises me with her bluntness, asking, “I take it you didn’t have much say over your placement?”

I laugh dryly. “Did any of us?”

She glances at a bulky, blond alpha across the table and fights a smile. Turning back to me, she says, “Some more than others.” She nods toward the blond who looks back adoringly. “Griff and I have been bonded since we were sixteen. When he was chosen for the Trials, another omega wasn’t an option.”

“If you think alphas are the jealous designation, just wait ’til you’ve bonded—you’ll be the one ready to rip heads off,” he says playfully.

I can’t help but bark a laugh at the absurdity of the statement. “It’s a nice fairy tale you two live in. I can promise you the only head I’m liable to rip off is one of theirs.” I’m still chuckling cynically as I take a sip of coffee.

Titus’s fist lands on the wood table. He growls in reprimand and warning. “Omega . . .”

His face—all hard and scowling and so goddamnhandsome—makes me sick. I push my plate away and stand up. My lip curls. “I seem to have lost my appetite.” His dark eyes narrow with loathing.

I climb over the bench and Paisley quickly offers, “Feel free to stop by our wing—I’m going to be hanging out all day while the boys get ready for the games.”

I force my face to soften. I tell her I’ll try, even though I have no intention to.

There’s an awkward halt in surrounding conversation as Titus pushes to his feet opposite me. My heart pounds as all eyes fall on us anticipatorily for the second time today.

“I did what I had to,” he rasps in a gravelly, quiet tone.

“Bring your bitch to heel, Cerulean!” someone down the table shouts, and laughter follows.

Not one of my alphas moves a muscle in my defense. I’d be disappointed if I expected anything different.

I swallow down my seething resentment and force a brittle, emotionless smile. “Of course, Alpha.” My words drip with fake sweetness.

I steal two pieces of freshly buttered toast from Ecker’s plate. He protests, “Hey—”

I don’t let him finish, giving Titus a menacing smirk. “We all do.”

I don’t want to be there when the guys return from breakfast. So, instead of returning to our wing, I leave the dining hall and take to wandering the Estate.

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