Page 2 of Alpha’s Possession

* * *

Zara's gasp pulls me out of my thoughts, and I instantly look up at the computer screen. My heart sinks: five hundred thousand dollars.

I stare at my sister. Her mouth hangs open, just as shocked as I am. We keep waiting for the pack name to appear. We have to see who had offered the highest bid and won me.

Yet the moment the name pops up, dread pools in my stomach, a pit forming so deep I forget how to breathe.

Obsidian Pack.

It is a pack I've heard of, but not for good reasons. It is also an all-Alpha Pack, that much I know. I shake my head as tears brim and spill from my eyes, slipping down my cheeks and dripping off my chin. Zara's lips quiver.

“No!” she gasps, horrified. That pack is notorious for losing Omegas, and I will likely be no different.

The Obsidian Pack bought six girls from the sanctuary while we lived here, and not one survived. None could take the Alpha’s knot. Not even with the serum. The other girls in the facility called that pack the Omega Killers!

I swallow the bile.

"Maybe we can tell them no," Zara suggests in a whisper, but it offers no hope. We are the state's property and have no choice in the government's eyes. We owe the state for caring for us, so we have no say at all. Omegas are property because Omegas are the only ones who can provide an heir to continue Alpha's bloodline. We are revered and special, and apparently, we fetch a high price.

All Omegas end up in packs eventually, but I didn't think I would be sold off to one so cruel and feared. I never imagined I would end up with the Omega Killers.

Zara wraps her arms around me, her own tears wetting my shoulder. "I won't let them take you," she promises me fiercely. "We'll figure this out, I promise. I won't let you become another victim of the Obsidian Pack."

* * *

Later that afternoon, I receive the Obsidian Pack Alpha’s serum. It's supposed to help Omegas acclimate to our Alpha. It also ensures the Alpha DNA is passed on to its potential heir because once an Alpha marks his other pack members, the DNA changes.

Mrs. Yates sits with me while I rub my ass, sore from where the doctor jabbed me with his needle. Mrs. Yates squeezes my fingers. "I'm sorry, Harlow, I tried to talk Mr. Black out of it."

"That pack ... They killed six girls. Six, Mrs. Yates, six girls!" I whisper, aware that I will be the next to die at their hands.

Or claws.

Or teeth.

Or knots!

"You're stronger than the others," she offers, but I shake my head. "I'm sorry, but …" she sighs. Nothing she says would make me feel better.

"Promise once I die, you won't send Zara to them. I know she will test just as high; we’re twins," I beg her.

Mrs. Yates nods. "I'll do my best. Promise." She nudges me and escorts me back to my room.

* * *

A few days pass before the pack comes to collect me. Zara does my hair and make-up. She does hers too, but I can't figure out why. Despite her being the more girly of the two of us, she hates make-up just as much as I do.

Today, I'll meet my pack. A pack I want no part of. Watching the clock only makes me more nervous, while Zara sniffles as she fixes my hair to look precisely like hers. We're pulling on our matching dresses when I hear the buzz of the pager, telling me they have arrived.

My skin prickles as fear seeps into every cell of my body, but I feel cold when I get up to leave the room. The moment I reach for the door, I feel something sprayed on the side of my face. I swat at it and turn to see Zara holding a spray can in her hands. Tears fill her eyes, and my vision blurs when she sprays it again.

"Why are you spraying me with a de-scenter?" I ask, choking and coughing when some gets in my mouth. During my coughing fit, she jabs me in the arm with a needle. Before I realize what is happening, my legs turn wobbly, and I reach out for her.

Zara drags me back and tucks me into bed, but I fight to remain conscious.

"Zara!" I murmur in panic.

"I won't let you die. Just know I love you," she whispers, kissing my cheek.