Page 2 of Hunting Their Omega

“You heard me, girl. On your back, now.”

I curled my arms around myself at her biting words but didn’t move.

A frustrated growl left her lips, and she pushed me onto the cold, hard table with enough force to make me gasp. She yanked my legs out from under me, wrenched my thighs apart, and stuck two gloved fingers into my core. I jumped at the contact and flushed with shame when she pulled away to examine her slick-covered hand. She studied it with medical proficiency before removing the glove and tossing it into the bin behind her.

“Congratulations,” she said, her eyes flat. “You’ve just aged out of bordering. It won’t be long now before your heat starts.”

Aging out was the only thing that released an Omega from the Council appointed housing we were all forced to live in. It was when our body finally hit maturity and we could get pregnant.

I sat up, wincing at the phantom feeling of her fingers inside me.

Governess Ida turned to a metal cabinet, stuck a key into the lock, opened the doors, and removed a small bottle of heat suppressant pills. She popped two into a paper cup and handed it to me.

“Swallow.”

I swallowed the pills dry, relief and dread fighting for dominance in my mind. Governess Ida watched on, her usual aloof expression holding a note of . . . emotion. Hope flared in my chest. I shouldn’t have asked, but my traitorous mouth was spewing out the question before I could gather my pride.

“Please don’t tell the Den Mother. Please, I want to stay. I’ll do anything, I’ll—”

She held up a hand, silencing me. Whatever pity she’d felt disappeared. “Enough.” Her voice was a sharpened blade. “We all have our role to play, Omega. Now go pack. Transport will be here first thing in the morning.”

Clenching my jaw, I swallowed a sob. Crying wouldn’t get me anywhere.

She claimed we all had a role to play as if this were the next step in a math equation and not the end of my life.

The words wrapped around my throat like a noose. My wolf whined, curling in on herself.

I stood silently, digging my claws into my last shred of dignity, and obediently inclined my head.

The absence of pain left me hollow, but I wouldn’t let them see me break. I wouldn’t kick and scream against my fate like others before me.

I would walk out with my head held high. I would plan.

It was time to focus on surviving what came next.

***

I was jolted awake by a hard rap on the door.

“Get up, breeder,” a cold voice yelled.

I was sluggishly rising from the thin, stale mattress when the door flew open, and the Den Mother stepped in, sweeping her speculative gaze over the meager space.

“Come, child. It’s best not to keep your superiors waiting,” she said, her voice cutting through me like steel.

I scrambled to my feet, grateful I’d had the foresight to sleep in my clothing, and grabbed the single bag I’d packed. All my worldly possessions could fit into one tiny, fraying backpack.

The Den Mother placed a creased hand on my shoulder, lengthening her claws so they pinched my flesh in silent warning as I glanced at my new jailers. The officials looked more like Enforcers than Council dignitaries with their broad chests and impassive faces—well, almost impassive. The brown-haired one—an Alpha by the scent of him—looked at me as if I were vermin.

They led me out of my dorm, down the spiraling staircase, and toward the boarding house’s front foyer. As I followed, my conversation with the Den Mother the night before rang in my ears.

“Do you think you’re better than the others?” the Den Mother asked, clasping her hands behind her back as she entered my dorm room.

I turned, my packing forgotten at her sudden appearance. “No. Of course not, Den Mother,” I said, keeping my eyes down.

“Then what is this nonsense I heard about you asking Governess Ida to stay? Did you think you could avoid your fate, your purpose?”

“No, Den Mother—”

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