Today was the one-year anniversary of getting a letter from the Designation Government “inviting” me to participate in their new pilot program designed to force omegas to get the device. They’d already told me years earlier that I was ineligible to bond a pack and was therefore destined to be alone, but they still needed a way to control me.
My hands shook as I gripped the handlebars tighter, recalling how close I’d come to having what was left of my power stripped away. I’d narrowly escaped by hiding in a safe house, and the Designation Government was overthrown a few weeks later—just in time to say goodbye to Cat.
Now, I had little to distract myself from my nightmares. I’d spent all day pacing inside the house. The bakery where I worked was closed today, and the storm of tortured thoughts and memories had driven me here, to this dark street, looking for something.
Control. I just needed control.
My bike rolled through puddles in the alley by the club. The water splashed my pants until I stopped at the rusted bike rack. A wave of dizziness came over me as I dismounted, and I had to rest my hands against the filthy brick wall to stay standing.
Deep down, I knew I could have called my friends and told them I was struggling. We had all suffered under the former government, but admitting that I was hurting, that I needed help… it was all too vulnerable. My uncles’ voices echoed in my head.You are such a burden. You’ve ruined our lives by coming here. How could anyone want such an exhausting and needy omega?
My friends only knew one side of me—the quiet, reserved Westin who sometimes made sassy remarks in self-defense class and was chipper and outgoing when she worked in the bakery. Tonight, I wanted to be a different Westin—the one I wasbefore.
Once my dizziness passed, I locked my bike and pulled off my sweatshirt and sweatpants, tucking them in my tote. Maybe I should have felt afraid as I rounded the corner to the club, but it was like all my emotions had been sucked into a tiny metal box tucked deep inside me. I was embracing recklessness tonight, the same recklessness that had followed me throughout my childhood and teenage years. It promised me relief from everything I was feeling, and everything happening inside my body. So I put my shoulders back, ran my fingers through my hair, and embraced the danger.
The pulsing music seeped through the graffitied walls, luring me towards the metal slab door. A couple of men leaned against the building, illuminated by the harsh neon sign. I clenched my jaw as I passed them, ignoring their crude shouts and the stench of their cloud of cigarette smoke.
This was my third time coming here, and I hated myself for being unable to stay away. Hated myself for needing this decrepit place.
But here I was again, at a fucking club calledCum Dumpster.
I adjusted my boobs in my dress—short and slutty with a fringed skirt that tickled my upper thighs. My heels clicked against the uneven pavement as I approached the lone bouncer.
“Back again,” he said. His eyes roamed slowly down my body as he inhaled deeply, trying to catch a whiff of my non-existent scent.
“Couldn’t stay away,” I said, pasting on a flirty smile.
He licked his lips. “I get off at 1 a.m. if you’d like toget offwith me.”
“Holy shit, that’s the worst pickup line I’ve ever heard.” I rolled my eyes, but a smile played at my lips, hoping to soften the blow of my rejection.
“You’ll succumb to my charms one of these days,” he responded, puffing out his chest as he pulled the door open.
I laughed even as yet another piercing pain rattled my temple. “Keep dreaming,” I quipped, flipping my hair over my shoulder as I walked into the club with a carefree confidence I didn’t feel.
Each step drew me deeper into the crowd. The pulse of the music echoed in my chest and the alpha and omega scents swirled around me, strong enough to cause even my desensitized nose to scrunch up. I squinted my eyes, trying to block out the flashing lights as I willed the pain in my head away, hoping that by the night’s end, it would be gone completely.
I was here out of my desperation for distraction and money. But I also wanted to test a theory. The last few times I’d been around alphas, my symptoms had lessened. Pain medication did nothing, but fucking alpha pheromones seemed to give me temporary relief.
I quickly wove through the crowd, keeping my head down as I dodged handsy alphas and headed to the back dressing room reserved for omegas. Cum Dumpster’s main draw was that there were no rules. There was a bar and dance floor, but tucked into the shadowy corners and dingy private rooms were omegas offering sex work and drugs. The owner had the police on his payroll, and off-duty officers frequented the club, never moving to close it down.
The sounds of the club grew muffled as I entered the door code for the dressing room. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was a private space for us. It was empty right now—the other omegas already out on the floor.
I stared at myself in the dirty mirror, struggling to recognize the person looking back at me. The omega in the reflection looked so…normal. Her makeup was done, her hair framed her face and fell around her shoulders. My fingers lifted to the thin straps of her dress, barely feeling it against my skin.
My throat grew tight and for a moment, I was afraid I might actually cry. I’d perfected masking my emotions, but I felt strangely tender tonight. The twisted vestiges of my nightmare were a haunting reminder of the Designation Government and my forced isolation as an undesirable omega. Would I ever truly feel safe after what I’d gone through? Although… maybe I wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. A tiny tendril of excitement wormed its way into my chest when I thought of the Omega Rights Committee meeting tomorrow. I’d long learned that hope was a useless emotion, but I was rattled from my nightmare and didn’t have it in me to tamp down my hopefulness. Just for tonight, I would let myself feel it. The prospect of a new life would carry me through until tomorrow.
I straightened up, tucked my bag into a small locker, and headed back to the main part of the club. This time, I kept my head high and added a swing in my hips as I made a beeline forthe bar. The music and lights pulsed around me as I ordered two tequila shots.
The gazes of the alphas in the room fell heavily on me and I had the sensation of being circled by sharks. I was an object to them. Desirable only for how I could make them feel. But their objectification didn’t bother me tonight since I was here to use them just as much as they were to use me, and that gave me a sense of power.
“You’re going to be very popular tonight in that dress,” Kitty said, joining me at the bar and signaling the bartender to get her a shot.
Kitty was an omega who had taken the unofficial job of watching out for all of us. Cum Dumpster wasn’t a brothel—as long as the omegas didn’t cause any problems, the owner didn’t care what we did. We kept whatever money we earned, and our presence drew in paying customers—alphas looking for somethingmore. It was a symbiotic relationship. But there hadn’t been anyone to ensure the omegas stayed safe, so Kitty appointed herself to the role.
“It’s an old one from high school,” I said. “I wasn’t sure it would still fit.” It was certainly stretched tighter across my tits and hips, but that was a plus for my mission tonight.
People had fawned over my beauty since I was a child. My tiny body, perfect curves, and long, silvery hair made me stand out wherever I went. But in the end, my beauty meant nothing. Was this how I would spend the rest of my life—never being fully known by those around me? Not that I even knew who I was anymore.
