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A breakthrough in beta science revealed the original classification of designations comprised alphas, omegas, and betas, with deltas as an evolutionary variation of alphas and gammas as the counterpart to omegas. However, thanks to a mad scientist’s discovery, it became apparent that a gamma exposed to a scent match could biologically transition into an omega. That’s the basic idea, at least. Currently, beta scientists have established a laboratory to conduct further research, and this revelation has caused quite a stir in the community. I can’t blame them. For a gamma, discovering they could have always been more is a lot to digest.
My father huffs at me, his displeasure etched across his face as his gaze bores into mine. I envision him as blind, oblivious to the cruelty he inflicts upon this world. He must be blind, for no alpha in existence should be capable of inflicting such immense horror.
“Well,” he begins, his mouth making an unsettling click as it opens. His dry tongue darts across his lips, a sight that sendsshivers down my spine. “It isn’t right. If they choose to leave this sanctuary we built for them, then I say they should bear the consequences.”
Bastard. “You wouldn’t intervene if they were in danger?”
“Why should I?” he growls at me, his anger saturating the air with his bitter scent. “If they choose to leave, it’s their decision, not mine. I voted for them to stay in this castle, in this sanctuary. Omegas had the opportunity to find a pack.”
“They never had a real choice,” I explode, leaning forward in my seat. “Packs bought omegas. Only those with the most money found an omega. You damn well know that.”
I can see the denial on the tip of his tongue, the ruthlessness in his eyes. I want no part of it. One of his loyalists chimes in, “They never should have left. This gala is a mockery.” The former dean glares out the window, his gaze likely fixed on the arrival of numerous omegas, many of whom have lived in hiding for years, all because they didn’t trust the men before me.
I don’t even know why I’m in this room when the other heirs aren’t. My father insisted on my presence. Perhaps that’s why my next words cut like a whip. “They voted you out.”
He jerks his head around, a snarl on his lips. “Not for long. My son will prevail. He will take charge and restore our good name.”
His son is a bastard, just like him, if not worse.
I’m done here. “Well, considering that the gala begins in less than five minutes…” I trail off as I rise from my seat. I can no longer bear to listen to them complain about the wrongs they believe the world has inflicted on them when they are the ones in the wrong.
“Son,that’s what we want to discuss with you,” my father says, a cruel smile stretching across his lips, sending a spike offear through me. The man is capable of inspiring fear and nothing more. Never love, never understanding.
I swallow hard and keep myself upright, my gaze locked on my father seated across from me. He raises a glass to his lips for a sip, never breaking eye contact.
“Yes, Father?” I prompt, though I’m not particularly eager to hear what he has in mind, but the need to know gnaws at me.
“The gala presents an opportunity for us to demonstrate that we are still in control, that we possess power,” he declares smoothly. The other men in the room slowly shift their attention toward me.
“The gala was the brainchild of the new dean,” I reply thoughtfully, crossing my arms. “Not yours.”
“Semantics, we had to vote on it,” he retorts.
“And if I recall correctly, you voted against it.” What game is he playing?
“Now I intend to leverage it to my advantage,” my father taunts. I choose to remain silent, refusing to play into his hands. “You have thirty days to find an omega.”
“Excuse me?” My arms drop to my sides, and I fix my father with a glare. “That’s not something you can rush.”
“Speak to the new dean, consult the scent books, or explore the options among the omegas downstairs. I don’t care. Do whatever it takes,” my father asserts, leaning forward and placing his glass on the coffee table between us. “Otherwise, I’ll find an omega for you.”
“So this is an ultimatum?” I huff. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“You should consider yourself fortunate that we’re giving you this opportunity,” my father states. “It’s a gesture of goodwill.” His cold, heartless goodwill. “We’ll be presenting a bill first thing Monday morning, and we have the votes.”
“What?” Surprise surges within me, shattering the carefully maintained façade I thought I had in place.
“No active council members can hold their positions without a pack.” My father smirks. “Or without an omega. It’s too precarious, son.”
Councilman Finch chimes in, “Alphas require the stabilizing aura an omega provides to maintain their seats.”
“And,” my father continues, “you have two deltas in your pack, son. We all know that deltas without an omega are susceptible to illness.”
“Leaving them in need of institutionalization,” Dean Finch says with an unusual semblance of compassion. However, I can see right through it. It’s a façade, as always.
I chuckle. What other response is there in this situation? The laughter bubbles out of me, devoid of humor. “Well then, Father, what do you have to say for yourself?” I gesture around us. “Because, in case you’re unaware, you are an alpha without a pack.”
“I wouldn’t worry about me.” My father glances at Finch.
