AllFreeNovel
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They come and go.
After Noelle was placed with her pack, there was Juniper who shaved my head, Mya who threatened to have me sold to her drug lord Daddy’s enforcers, and Penny who ripped out my earring and split my lip.
Eve. Samantha. Madison.
Rachel is the flavor of the week, stewing with a tension that promises she’s going to follow in the footsteps of all the bitchy omegas who came before her.
I zone out as the team runs through their hip-hop routine, deliberately not paying attention because fuck me sideways, I will remember the steps after I see them once.
My brain’s a sponge for dance.
The team’s talented and totally in sync. They throw themselves into the fast-paced routine, moving with such desperation it looks like passion if you don’t know what you’re seeing.
They know the game.
You’ve gotta work to catch a pack of alphas worth mating.
If you graduate, heat coming on with no forever offers coming in?
Welcome to life in rotation.
You’re pimped out to the highest-bidding pack for sex and surrogacy, popping out pups until you could field your own football team and half the marching band. You never mate. Instead, it’s a new pack every heat until you’re finally dried up, sexed out, and begging for menopause to take you into retirement.
As far as I’m concerned, mating is just as shitty.
I’ve spent my entire life at the mercy of people who take pleasure in hurting me, and I’m supposed to want to be bite-bound to a pack of neanderthals who see me as an easy target?
No fucking thank you.
When the girls finish their routine, breathing hard but looking flawless, perfect smiles and perfect makeup, I shove down every instinct that has me bouncing, replaying the choreo in my mind and adding my own twist, wanting to join and move and feel the music, ignoring all this omega bullshit.
But life is better since I learned the truth.
There’s a third option, and I’m not ditching my winning strategy for one catchy song.
So when Evgenia motions me to join, I do what I always do.
I deliberately fuck it up.
The problem is, Evgenia’s been at OCC forever. She’s not like the other trainers, in and out, here maybe a year. They play a girl to earn her loyalty, then weasel their way into a spot as a pack beta, and a ticket to the sweet life.
It leaves me safe, flying so low under the radar I’m practically an earthworm. But Trainer Evgenia has known me since I was an abandoned preschooler bumbling my first arabesque.
As I clumsily recreate the routine, pretending to forget steps, turning the wrong way, and moving so the other girls fall out of their positions, Evgenia watches with a lifted chin and an arched, manicured eyebrow that distinctly says you think you’re getting away with this shit?
It’s painful to hold myself back, but every time the girls sniff or scoff at me instead of flashing their fangs in jealousy, I chalk up a win. Let them think I’m an idiot who can’t remember the choreo. Let them think Evgenia’s just pitying me.
I’ll never show them the truth.
Jealous bitches give you stitches.
After half an hour of awkwardness, Evgenia finally caves. “Enough. Enough. Girls, you’re dismissed. Not you,” she hisses when I try to sneak out with the crowd.
Rachel crutches to the door on a swollen ankle, already sizing up how she’s going to cube me into little Lilah pieces.
A few years ago, I would’ve been terrified, knowing what’s coming.
I’ve taken enough beatings that I know how to handle myself, and if Rachel wants to hurt me, she’ll at least hurt back.
