3 YEARS AGO
My whole life, I’ve looked forward to my heat. Ever since I was old enough to learn about them and what they mean to an omega—rutting, knots, claiming, an unbreakable bond, maybe babies—I’ve dreamed of what my first heat would be like. I imagined love and care. I imagined fierce kisses, whispered promises. Most of all, I imagined what it would feel like to finally belong. So much of my time was spent longing for my pack assignment.
I wake from my second heat with my assigned pack... Alone. The small basement room is dark. The air smells like my alphas. They were here. The evidence is still sticky between my legs. My body is sore. I take a tiny breath, sending up a prayer as I lift my hand and flutter my fingers over my shoulder. Nothing.
That’s okay. Maybe they marked me somewhere else.
They’d gotten so caught up in their ruts during my first heat, we didn’t get to the claiming part. I slip out of the bed and rush to the bathroom, flicking on the light. My eyes snap to the mirror, and I jolt. Bruises litter my skin. My hair is a mess, almost like someone pulled it so hard, the strands are now stuck that way in remembrance. My breasts are littered with purple and black marks. I chew on my cheek as I take it all in, ignoring my response to those marks in search of the only mark I care about.
Spinning, I check my back. I lift my hair to search my neck. I turn again, lifting my breasts, feeling nothing. Seeing nothing. I do another full inspection, taking a step closer to the mirror. Nothing. Aside from the bruises, there are no marks on my skin.
That can’t be right.
I check again. Again. Again. The sixth time, as I finish a spin, the light in my eyes fades and disappointment sinks into my skin. Confusion settles into my bones. Hurt nestles into my marrow.
They know how much being claimed means to me. They know I want the bond. We talked about it after my first heat. Even with the madness of their rutting, they should want to claim me. The most primal urge of an alpha is to mark what belongs to him. The Compatibility Ceremony, the fancy soiree that decided my fate, was six months ago. The Omega Council determined these alphas were the pack for me, but I don’t really belong to them until they consummate the bond.
With a notch between my eyebrows, I return to the nest and grab one of the shirts the alphas left behind. My clothes are shredded. The scent that wraps around me should settle me, should feel like a warm hug, but without the bond, it’s like a slap across the face. I can almost feel the sharp sting of a palm on my cheek.
Something clatters upstairs and obnoxious laughter follows. The alphas. I swallow and head upstairs, my shaking hand gripping the railing as I ascend. My heart rate spikes with each step, not because of the stairs, but because I’m going to confront them. I’ve never been shy about speaking my mind...but this is different. Leaving me to wake alone after my heat was cruel. It’s confusing. It’s...not normal. All I learned in the years leading up to the Compatibility Ceremony was how much the alphas I’d be assigned to would want to take care of me.
So far, their treatment has bordered on callous, but I’ve tried to be patient with them. This is a new dynamic for all of us, and with time, we’ll learn to love each other. That’s the only way packs survive.
I slip out of the basement unnoticed. The alphas are sitting around the kitchen table. They’re all so handsome in that gruff, bad boy sort of way, and my heart flutters at the sight of them. The dim light overhead casts a dull yellow glow over their worn cards and poker chips. I clear my throat and step toward them.
They don’t look up.
They don’t say hello.
They don’t notice me.
“Hi,” I say, edging closer.
Nothing.
My chest tightens.Notice me, I beg inside my head.
“I raise you,” Jimmy says, tossing a stack of chips into the pot.
Ricky scoffs and runs his hands over his scruff. “Bullshit.” His chips clatter on top of Jimmy’s.
“Let’s see what you got, Jimmy,” Mikey says, pushing strands of his brown hair off his forehead.
I take another tentative step toward them, inadvertently blocking some of the light.
“Can we talk?” My voice comes out meeker than I anticipated, but I stand steady, waiting for their reply.
“Must we?” Mikey asks.
Ricky snickers.
“I, uh, I noticed you didn’t claim me,” I begin, voice a little shaky. “Why?”
Almost as one, they raise their eyebrows and trade looks. Ricky laughs first. Mikey follows. That mocking sound pierces through me, obliterating a part of my heart. The piece of me that was excited to be bonded with these alphas wilts.

I don’t love them—I haven’t been with them long enough, and they haven’t spent much time with me—but to laugh at me for wanting them to claim me? It hurts.
Jimmy glares at me. “Move.”
The command hits me, causing my spine to go rigid, and I do as I’m told, shuffling to the side. The light I was blocking spills across the table. He grunts, and then it’s as though they’ve forgotten about me. They return to the game. They all lay down their cards. There’s cursing and arguing, but the tears blurring my vision and the ringing in my ears make it hard to understand who won.
And then suddenly, I’m remembered.
“Is that my fucking shirt?” Ricky pushes away from the table so fast, his chair clatters to the ground. He closes the distance between us and grabs the hem of the top, yanking it off me. “Don’t touch my shit.”
This type of behavior isn’t new to me. My fathers weren’t good men. The only good in my life was my brother. He would lose it if he saw how these alphas were treating me, but he’s not here anymore. He can’t protect me from the grave.
I move my hands to cover my breasts, leaving the rest of me bared to them. “Why won’t you claim me?” I ask, unable to let it go. “I thought we agreed the bond would be completed with this heat.” After my first heat with the pack three months ago, I was so upset they hadn’t claimed me. We had an understanding, and I thought they’d honor that, seeing as I’m their omega.
Jimmy rolls his eyes and groans. Mikey shakes his head. But Ricky, Ricky takes a step closer, acid coating his scent.
“You’re not pretty enough for alphas like us. Even if you put on makeup, you’re just not good enough,” he hisses, spittle flying out of his mouth and hitting me in the face.
Not good enough? I was good enough for them to rut into. I don’t claim to understand alphas, but sometimes their anger gets the better of them, and they say things they don’t mean. My fathers did it all the time.
“You don’t mean that,” I whisper, searching his face. “I’m sorry for wearing your shirt.”
“This ain’t about the damn shirt, bitch. You think you deserve us?” Ricky chortles and pokes my chest hard enough to leave another bruise. “We’re the kings of this block. We have people to impress, and this—” He vaguely gestures in my direction. “Ain’t good enough.”
Those words stamp into my chest. Not. Good. Enough. Not good. Not enough. Not good enough.
“I’m your omega.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. But not good enough? We were matched. That has to count for something.
“No,” Mikey snaps. “We didn’t claim you.”
I shake my head. “That’s not how it works. We were matched. I’m your omega,” I say again, voice rising. They have to claim me. What other choice is there? The Omega Council doesn’t accept returns.
“Not for long.” Jimmy stands and stretches. “We found you a new home.”
The air is ripped from my lungs. “What?”
“Don’t worry. This is the type of place you belong in.”
“Place?” My face contorts. “What are you talking about? You’re my pack. You can’t find me a new home. I’m not a dog.”
“Is she serious right now?” Mikey laughs while looking at the other two. “You’rejustlike a dog. You’re here to be bred. You’re here for us. You don’t have a say. We don’t want you, so you’re leaving. Got it?” His eyes bore into me as tears slip down my cheek.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Finding my pack meant my life would change. I was meant to escape the harsh words of my fathers and find alphas who would cherish me.
“Why are we bothering to talk to her at all?” Ricky growls, roughly grabbing my chin. “Shut up and stop crying,” he barks.
That demand slams into me, and my body reacts, eyes drying and mouth snapping shut. I suck in a tiny breath, afraid to move with him so close, but he shoves my face away and turns to face his pack.
“Call Curtis.”
Mikey whips out his phone and puts it on speaker, calling this Curtis.
“What?” a sharp voice snaps. Thumping music crackles down the line.
“We got an omega for you.” Mikey nods at Jimmy, who holds up both hands, displaying ten fingers.
There’s a pause. “Bullshit.”
“You think I’d lie to you?” Mikey growls.

“How much?”
“Ten.”
“Fuck you,” Curtis chuckles.
“Fuck you,” Mikey snaps back. “Ten, or we’ll find another buyer.”
For a moment, I’m confused.
“Ten grand for an omega? Did you knot her?”
And then, with jagged clarity, the truth of what’s happening cuts through me. They’re selling me? My knees knock together, but Ricky grabs me by the arm before I can fall, fingers digging into my flesh. Hurting.
That pain is nothing compared to the agony in my chest. My pack...the ones I dreamed about, the ones I longed and wished for, the saviors I prayed for...are selling me.
You’re not good enough.
“Of course, we knotted her. We had to test her out.” Mikey shoots a sneer in my direction. “Her cunt works well enough.”
My chest shudders as I breathe in. Ricky jerks me a little, sending a warning glare in my direction. My mouth is still firmly shut and my eyes are dry. But I don’t have to weep to fracture. I don’t have to release the pained cry that’s building in my chest to crack. With no sound at all, I shatter.
And they let me.
“Did you claim her?”
“What do you think?” Jimmy snaps.
“Fuck it, fine. Ten grand. Bring her tonight, or no deal.”
Tonight?
I shake my head. Ricky whispers for me to shut up. Black dots my vision, and the room loses focus. I clasp my chest, sucking in a haggard breath and bowling over.
“We’ll be there in a bit.” Mikey hangs up the phone and tosses it on the table.
Please, I plead in my head. I can’t say it out loud, not with the command to shut up, but I implore them with my eyes. I beg them, placing a trembling hand on my shoulder, where the mark should be.You’re my pack.
“Don’t give me that look. We’re not your pack. We never claimed you.” Ricky releases my arm.
My body is too weak, too in shock to hold myself up. I fall to the floor, naked ass slapping against the grimy linoleum. Curling my fingers, I dig my nails into the dirt and grease, watching as the filth embeds beneath the tips of my nails.
A strangled sound I can’t vocalize reverberates inside my chest, and I wheeze, shame lancing up my spine.
“Will you deal with that?” someone growls.
Something hard smashes into the back of my head.
Two
NOVA
PRESENT DAY
Patients, nurses, and therapists line the hall. I grip the strap of my backpack, the only thing I own, and take the first step forward. Everyone starts to clap, cheering for me, offering words of praise. I grind my teeth and push on. I avoid catching anyone’s eye. I tune out the sounds.
I’m almost free.
Before I can step outside, Dr. Olivia blocks my path. “Nova.” She says my name with so much emotion.