Page 13 of Flight of the Omega

Three years, six dud clutches had been enough to convince his father that JP was useless as a brood omega, and that was why he’d been sent down here. Father had been hoping to rear little race birds—JP had never been bridled or saddled, so it was doubtful he’d be much good at it.

But he couldn’t make chicks, so William had shipped JP off to see if he could be useful in another capacity. If he couldn’t, JP didn’t know what would happen—his father didn’t seem to care for him beyond how much he could do for him.

Maybe that was why JP had latched on to Jack; maybe Jack would care for him, even if he was a dud bird, even if he was useless. But Jack had rejected him too—so maybe that was all there was to it. He only had value if he could be useful to someone. He was a means to an end.

It was a painful thought. Jack had been honest with him at least. Jack could have used him, like everyone else. That only made it hurt more; Jack was the only person who had ever cared about him enough to be that honest. Jack was the only person who had ever looked at him and saw a person, not a tool—and Jack didn’t like what he saw.

In the end, JP supposed it didn’t matter. He’d endure this heat, this pain, and, because of its ill timing, he’d likely miss the Rose Plate. He wouldn’t be ready to run, and he’d be assigned some other, worse fate.

It was better that Jack had rejected him then. Easier, because his time here would end and Jack would be nothing more than a memory. Maybe this would hurt less in the end.

Didn’t feel like it right then and there, but he clung stubbornly to the thought, because without it, he was going to drown.