Page 3 of Broken Omega

Knowing that wasn’t going to happen left me empty inside.

All I had left was my dad, the man who barely seemed to notice me.

Some days that made me feel sad and lonely.

Other days I wished he would just forget about my existence entirely.

This is one of those latter days.

Unfortunately, he never forgets my birthday.

I open the envelope once I get back to my suite.

Predictably, he’s sending a car for me at seven.

I suppose I should start getting ready.

BROOKE

The drive out to Crystal Grove takes us through the vibrant, beating heart of Cressidan City. I stare out the window at the busy streets and imagine what my life could have been like if I’d been born a Beta. I wouldn’t be stuck in an Omega academy waiting for a man to come along and make my life complete, that’s for sure.

“Peter?” I ask the driver, already knowing what he’ll say.

The old man has worked for my father for years. He knows what flies and what doesn’t.

Still, what’s the harm in trying? There’s always a chance he might decide to help me.

“Yes, Miss Corvina?” he asks, his gaze catching mine briefly in the rear view.

“I’ve changed my mind about visiting my father. Please take me to the corner of North Street so I can get the bus back to the academy.”

He clears his throat. “Apologies, Miss Corvina, but that isn’t how this works.”

“This?” I ask, trying not to let his refusal get to me. He always refuses. It’s not unexpected.

“I was hired to pick you up and bring you to the estate. I can’t drop you off anywhere else.”

Of course. My father would fire him if he did. I understand that.

Sighing, I sit back in my seat. Feeling the chill of the leather against the naked parts of my back and arms, I start to shiver. The sapphire-blue midi dress is excessive for a dinner party for two inside a house, but it’s what the academy expects and so it’s what my father expects, too.

I’ve spent most of my life trying to conform to what my society thinks a perfect Omega is.

It’s like I’m always wearing a dress that’s too tight and too short. I have to keep adjusting it, and it doesn’t matter how hard I try. There’s nothing I can do to make it fit. I can’t shrink myself down enough. I’ll never get the damned thing to fit properly.

It’s because it wasn’t made for me. It was made for a smaller girl with a different dream.

Too bad it’s mine now, and as much as I want to, I can’t take it off.

I try another tactic with Peter. “Can we at least stop to pick up—”

He shakes his head before I can finish. “I can’t make any stops.”

There goes escape plan number two.

Plan number three is the riskiest, but we don’t slow down enough to make it a real option anyway.

I’m sure the door is locked, so it’s pointless to think about making a jump and run for it even if we did get stopped by any of the sets of traffic lights we seem to be breezing through tonight.

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