His knee comes up to force my legs apart and he barks a single command.
“Yield!”
My useless omega body has never frustrated me as much as it does right this second. My legs fall apart of their own volition, opening to him as a commanding alpha. My head turns so that my throat is bared in submission, and I catch a quick glimpse of Ava’s tear-filled eyes before Jason’s hand grips my neck. My whole body relaxes, submitting to the alpha on top of me, even as fury fills me from my head to my toes.
Fuckingomega instincts.
Jason’s rancid breath ghosts over my face as he twists my neck to face him. I expect an explosion, a slap. I’m completely taken aback when helaughs in my face.
Bright red blood is smeared across his cheek from the scratches I laid on him, but he looks absolutely thrilled. His laughter booms across the completely silent dining hall as he throws his head back in a deranged cackle.
“What the fuck is so funny?” I manage to rasp through his fingers on my throat, my eyes blurring.
His laughter finally comes to an end. Leaning down, he holds my throat open for him as he runs his nose down it, breathing in the scent of my skin. The scent blockers stop my perfume from being too obvious, something I’m suddenly grateful for.
My stomach twists in revulsion.
He raises his mouth to my ear and licks it. My body shudders, biology betraying me. In my head, I don’t want anything to fucking do with Jason, but all my body feels is an alpha and it’s sure as hell not listening to me. Hot breath invades my ear as he takes his time before he whispers.
“Thank you, omega.”
I have no idea what he means, but the joy in his voice sends nausea up my throat until I think I’m going to heave.
Whatever happens now… it’s not going to be good for me.
ChapterTwo
Harper
My feet scrabble on the black and white linoleum as Jason drags me out.
The other guards stand around, uncertainty on their faces, and even the omegas are all out of their seats watching. Normally, that would be definite grounds for punishment, but clearly, I’m the star of this show. It’s not every day that an omega goes batshit crazy and attacks a guard, after all.
Jason doesn’t spare them a glance as he yanks me through the doors of the dining hall, fingers gripping my arm in a way that I just know will leave pleasant little crescent moon shapes embedded into my skin. I catch a final glimpse of Ava’s pale face, her eyes wide with fear, before the door slams shut with an air of finality.
Jason doesn’t push me down on my knees to crawl, even though we’re passing instructors who call out to him, confusion on their faces. He ignores them completely as he strides across the compound grounds confidently.
I’m too busy trying to get my feet under me to look at where we’re going. Jason loses patience and drags me upright. I jerk against his grip, and he snaps a growl at me that makes me stand up straight and follow.
Dread slithers down my spine as I work out where we’re going. I try desperately not to panic as Jason tows me towards a grey brick building, pulling me up the stone steps and through the huge wooden doors.
The Directors’ office.
The Director of the OC is responsible for keeping the system running smoothly and upholding the rules of the creed within the boundaries of the compound walls.
He’s a phantom. None of us ever get to see the Director, but we hear plenty from the instructors and guards. They like to threaten and intimidate us with a visit to the Directors’ office. There’s a rumor among the omegas that once we go in, we don’t come out.
My feet still follow Jason like an obedient little toy, and I try to pull away from him as he drags me down a dimly lit corridor.
The carpet is red, the walls stone. There are actual candlelit sconces lining the walls. I try not to snort in derision even though my stomach is churning. I mean, seriously, they could make it look a little less Transylvania. I wonder hysterically if the Director is actually a vampire and that’s why we never see him.
Jason’s not letting up, almost jogging in his haste. He finally stops in front of a large walnut door with an antique brass door knocker. Glancing at me, his thin lips twist up into a malicious smirk as his meaty fists lift the knocker. One, two, three times.
We wait for a minute, Jason vibrating with impatient energy. My eyes flicker up and down the corridor, searching for any potential hiding or escape spots, even as Jason’s arm grips me tightly. If there’s an opportunity, I’m taking it.
Finally, a low voice calls out for us to enter. Jason sweeps into the ornate office, yanking me with him so hard that I trip and land on my abused knees. I stumble to my feet hastily.
Looking up, I finally lay my eyes on the Director for the first time in my seven-year stint at the compound.
