The fact is, we knew it was possible that the omegas here might be injured. Hell, we spent hours talking it through every time Dakota left the house—me, Knox, and Alex—trying to prepare for what we might find.
We assumed the omegas offered here wouldn’t be the kind high-society alphas fight over at the academies. These omegas had to be the ones who slipped through the cracks—or got pushed out. Runaways. Rejects. Defective. Maybe even infertile.
In the end, we all agreed that it would be heaven to have a mate we could breed, raise our young with—but the privilege ofhavingan omega? Officiallyclaimingsomeone, loving them, giving them a real pack? We all agreed that was all that mattered.
But we probably should’ve talked to Dakota about it before we got here. He’s young—only twenty-three—and tenderhearted. It felt cruel to burden him with somethingupsetting—especially when we weren’t even sure it was true. But seeing the look of shock on his face now, makes me feel even worse.
Dakota says something else to me, but I’m too lost in my own guilt to hear him over the crowd.
“What?” I look down at the worried beta.
“She was probably hurt before she got here,” Alex answers his question for me. The redheaded alpha’s voice is softer than usual—too soft. “The omegas here…they’ve all been through something.”
Dakota’s brows pull together, clearly not understanding.
“Most of them weren’t wanted for one reason or another,” Alex says. “Many probably had to escape bad situations or were rejected. The Morder gives them a second chance to find a pack to care for them.” He reaches for Dakota’s hand, squeezing gently.
That small gesture hits me like a gut punch.
Alex doesn’t do gentle or serious. He makes everything into a joke because feeling too much scares the hell out of him. So ifhe’sletting that go, then he’s spiraling, too.
“This place,” Alex glances around at the grim-faced alphas surrounding us, “gives the omegas a chance to belong to a pack. Even if they’re not perfect. Even if no one else wanted them.”
“Really?” Dakota asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“These omegaswantto be claimed,” Knox says, solid and certain, like he’s staking his life on the truth of it. “All of them need a pack. Someone who won’t throw them away. The Morder gives them that chance.”
Dakota slowly smiles, then lets out a deep sigh of relief.
“Holy shit,” Alex gasps as he looks up at the stage. “Knox.” He smacks the pack alpha on the chest. “Look at her.”
We all look up at the stage, watching as a small omega with curly blonde hair stumbles into view.
“Come on.” Knox takes Dakota’s hand. “Let’s get closer to the stage.” He pulls the beta with him as he moves, cutting through the mob of hard-faced alphas.
I stare at their stern expressions as we pass. Hands shoved in pockets. Jaws clenched. Tension in every line of their bodies, like they’re waiting to pounce.
Uneasy, I reach for Dakota, resting a hand between his shoulder blades. “Stay close,” I murmur, pushing closer to his back.
Something tells me it wouldn’t take much for this place to spiral out of control. Fast.
The Back of the Stage
Skyla
Everythingaround me spins like a slow carousel, and I sway with it, my limbs uncooperative, heavy as stone. Or mud.
Yeah, that’s what it feels like.
Like I’m filled with wet, sucking mud that clings to every muscle and bone, dragging me down.
“It’s your turn next, sweetheart.” An older beta touches my elbow, urging me to take another step closer to the big, red curtain. “Are you excited for the alphas to see that pretty face?”
Confused, I blink slowly, staring at the beta’s weathered face. She must be a thousand years old. Her hair is a wiry gray, and the lines on her face are etched so deep they look like cracks in dry earth. I can’t help but wonder—if she were sliced in half, would her insides show a thousand rings, like some ancient oak tree?
Laughter bubbles up in my chest. It’s not funny. None of this is funny.
But I want to laugh anyway—at the lights, at the floor, at the sickly-sweet pheromones hanging in the air like syrup. Even atmyself, standing in line like a prop in a dream I don’t remember falling into.
