Page 68 of Wicked Alphas

All I know is that if she tries to leave us…

I can’t be responsible for my actions.

17

HARPER

Omega.

The word plays in my mind like a curse.

Everyone lied.

Michael lied.

James, Grey, Beau—they all knew the entire time.

I put my head in my hands and collapse on the bed, struggling to breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Even Charlotte knew.

The signs were there, but I didn’t put it together.

Cramps. Arousal. Wetness.

The bruise on my shoulder, which I realize is a fuckingmating gland.

I’m an Omega.

I scream into my hands, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks.

Part of me understands why they didn’t tell me, though.

Would I have believed them? How could I, when my identification card saysBeta?

Michael faked documents.

Is my name actually Harper?

Is my birthday October 16th? Or is it just a random number he decided?

Did he even know me before the car accident?

Breathe, Harper, c’mon.

I feel a wet nose nudge at my arm.

Wilson purrs loudly, rubbing the side of his face against me.

“I’m not mad at you,” I assure him, scratching under his chin. His eyes turn into thin slits, and he huffs out a satisfied breath.

WhoshouldI be mad at?

Michael first, of course.

And then…myself.

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