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Mila is a mean queen bee, always looking for a way to undermine Delilah. She’s jealous of my sister’s beauty and talent in both dance and music.
Delilah tugs at my hand. “You’ve got to find out what she’s up to. I can’t let her ruin my debut.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “She’s sitting right over there.” A makeup artist is dabbing something at the young woman’s face with a cotton ball.
Delilah shakes her head. “She doesn’t need to be the one to do something. The bitch probably has her posse riled up to sabotage me. You’ve got to find out what they’re planning.”
I glance at the mirror in front of us. The stark differences between our looks never fail to strike me.
Delilah’s complexion glows pink. Golden curls tumble over her shoulders and back. She’s got the curves of a goddess and the voice of an angel. Dressed in her satin gown, she looks like a princess from one of my childhood fairytale books.
I look nothing like her.
Dressed in ripped jeans and an overlarge plaid shirt, I look like an ordinary beta. The long length of my mousy brown hair is piled up on top of my head in a messy bun. A few, inelegant wisps frame my makeup-free face.
The only thing I like about me is my green eyes. They shine bright and bring life to my otherwise lusterless face.
“What’s gotten into you, Iris?” Delilah huffs. “Stop staring at the mirror!”
“You’re just so pretty,” I say, smiling fondly at my big sister.
Delilah’s truly the perfect omega.
She worked hard to secure a place at this prestigious school for omegas and spent the last three years honing her skills. There’s no way I’m letting anyone sabotage my sister’s efforts tonight.
“Iris?” she urges with a low moan.
I squeeze her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Just focus on yourself. I’ll handle the rest.”
A look of intense relief floods her face. I may not be beautiful like the gorgeous young women here but I was someone Delilah could rely on wholeheartedly.
That’s what matters in the end, I tell myself, walking away from her.
My gaze rakes the table tops before Mila and the other omegas who are in her inner circle. I look for pocket knives, forks, and other items that they could use on Delilah to injure her temporarily so she’d screw her solo on stage.
The Goddess already blessed them with beauty and the qualities of an omega. They were the rare flowers of our society. There would always be packs lining up to snatch them up with promises of a lavish and comfortable life.
No matter how much I wracked my brains, I could never find a reason for their pettiness.
I walk out of the dressing room and move directly into the area that controls the lighting and other stage effects. The smell of tar wafts into my nostrils despite the mask on my face.
“What’s stinking so bad?” I mumble. Ripping the mask away, I breathe in, noticing the distinct pungent odor of tar.
My foot collides with something heavy and metallic as I walk further inside the control room. Looking down, I see two large buckets that are filled to the brim with thick, black, shiny liquid.
Kneeling before a bucket, I sniff and immediately cover my nose with the end of my sleeve. Itistar, the black, sticky stuff they use to mend roads.
Straightening up, I walk to the front of the glass wall that overlooks the stage from a height. Everything’s dimly lit right now with the curtains closed off. I almost turn away when something catches my eye.
People are gathered in a shadowy corner of the stage.
A guy is balanced on top of a ladder, working with lengths of rope and a circular pulley. Five young women surround the man, their gazes fixed on him.
I turn back to look at the buckets of tar.
Is this their plan?I wonder, looking on at the scene before me. Are they planning to lift those buckets and then tip them onto someone’s head at the right moment?
Delilah was right to fear sabotage.
