Page 1 of This Pack of Ours

PROLOGUE

KIT

“Let your aura soothe and heal. Feel it mixing with your alphas, calming them.” Professor Orson’s voice rang through the classroom, and my anxiety skyrocketed. “An alpha’s aura lends them strength and power, but also instability. An omega’s place is to balance the alpha.”

I looked blankly up at Lincoln, the alpha whose hand I was holding; he winked at me. I felt my face go hot, and closed my eyes, trying to focus on what Professor Orson was telling us. Soothe. Heal.

I could feel his aura. It was out—a force in the air around me. It was hard not to read it as a threat, based on where I grew up. But just like every other time I tried this exercise, I couldn’t focus on truly reaching him.

The timer on Professor Orson’s desk went off, and I released Lincoln’s hand with a nervous smile, turning to pack my books into my bag.

“Hey, Kristofer,” Lincoln said, and I could feel all the muscles in my neck tense as he used the name my grandmother called me. She was the one who’d secured a massive loan to send me to Hawthorne Academy, a school that in reality served as a matchmaking service for alphas and omegas. It was supposed to be our ticket out of poverty. “It’s perfect, Kristofer,”my grandmother had said as she marched me to my dorm room, her bony fingers digging into my arm. “You were made for this. Pick the right pack and you’ll never have to work again.”

“Hm?” I turned back to Lincoln and forced another smile on my face.

“You wanna come back to our dorm after?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Usually, I’d say yes. I was surrounded by a smorgasbord of insanely hot, flirty alphas, and sex was about the only fun thing to do around here. Besides, I knew my grandmother wouldhatemy promiscuity. Just like she’d hated that I’d dyed my hair pink, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

“Oh, not today,” I said, tucking my hands in my sleeves as I picked up my backpack.

“Sorensen. A word?” Professor Orson said, and I suppressed a sigh as I walked up to her desk. I bounced on my toes as she set down her pencil. She fixed me with her stern gaze.

“You need totry, Sorensen,” she said.

“I am,” I replied, fiddling with my sleeves.

“You can go far as an omega. Your scent is compelling, and you have a perfect temperament to balance alphas. It should be easy for you. Yet you continue to fail with the most basic exercises.”

My face was hot again. Her disappointment was palpable, and one more thing I didn’t need today.

“I’m sorry.” My voice wavered.

“Don’t be sorry. Do better.” She flicked her hand at the door, and I hurried out of the classroom, ignoring everyone I passed.

I found an empty bench in the front garden and perched on the seat, pulling out a piece of paper and staring down at it. It was my grandmother’s list of all the packs available at Hawthorne Academy. In a month, I’d be leaving to spend the rest of my life with one of them—at the age of 19.

Crumpling it up with both hands, I flung it at the metal garbage can by the bench across from me. I rested my head on my knees, fighting back tears.

I fuckinghatedit here.

I shifted my button-up shirt, adjusting where it rubbed against my neck. My preferred clothing was either comfy or slutty, and neither was acceptable on campus.

For an omega who lived topside—in the well-off part of the city—perfuming was a celebration. You could expect a life of being desired and cared for; packs would compete to secure your attention.

But I wasn’t from the good part of town. I was born and raised across the tracks in the Gritch district. And perfuming as an omega in the Gritch was a life sentence. Desired, but not cared for. A life in hiding, of surviving heats, of dreaming of finding a pack that might just protect me instead of using me up.

I wasluckyto be here. Lucky to be facing the rest of my life living as some kind of pez-dispenser for unstable rich alphas.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have any interested packs. I was shy but still managed to catch attention.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got that pretty face,” grandmother’s snippy voice had reminded me as she left. “People will be too busy staring at it to realize you don’t have anything else to offer.”

My eyes prickled again as I wondered if I was losing myself. If Kit was being erased by this fuckingKristofer, who wore button-ups and went to tea parties and sat up straight. Because if a pack picked Kristofer, I could never go back to being Kit. It’s not like they’d bring me home and I’d say,“Thanks for picking me as your omega! Excuse me, I’m just going to go get high, eat Cheetos, and stay on the couch all day while I binge five seasons of Honey Omega Club: Go!”

Fuck, I wanted my vape pen back so bad. They’d confiscated it on the second day, saying it wasn’t becoming of a proper omega.

As I sat wallowing, I heard footsteps approaching down the path, making me look up.

I was hunched on the bench, hugging my legs, which was sure to earn me a lecture about posture. But who I saw approaching wasn’t any of the staff here.

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