WESTIN
Irolled over in bed, grabbing my phone to check the time. I groaned when I realized it was already afternoon—Theo and Josie had dropped me off hours ago. The emotional devastation of finding I wouldn’t be eligible for pack interviews was enough to make me want to stay in bed forever. When I looked at my future, I saw only darkness.
I flipped through my phone, trying to distract myself, when a notification from Sugar Nest popped up. It was an app designed to help omegas find high-end alphaclients. I chewed on my lip, clicking on the app. I’d been too nervous to submit a profile before, but I’d decided I wouldn’t go back to Cum Dumpster. Last night had been miserable, and the bike ride home left me shaken. Although, my mind kept returning to the alpha who helped me after I fell.
I read over the Sugar Nest application. All the alphas had to go through a supposedly extensive screening process and background check to make it safer for omegas. My real hesitation was that the alphas typically hired you for a night—the whole night—meaning I’d have to be willing to have sex.
I’d had sex with a lot of betas before the Designation Government took over. My final year of high school was filled with a string of flings. I grinned as I remembered one night my date had driven me home, and we’d ended up pressed against the side of the garage. My uncle, Alex, had caught us with our pants down—literally—and dragged me inside. My uncles had all screamed at me and called me a slut, but I hadn’t cared. Ihadbeen a slut, and I’d enjoyed it. But I’d never been with an alpha. After all these years, a part of me was still holding on to a romantic notion of fated mates and finding the perfect pack before letting anyone knot me.
But now I knew with complete certainty that it wouldn’t happen. Sure, the government could change the requirements someday, but I’d probably be too old by then. At almost twenty-five, I was practically ancient to be an unbonded omega.
Sugar Nest was supposed to be safe—although most things were probably safer than servicing alphas in the back room of a shitty club—and it paid well. The money would help me get caught up on the utility bill my uncles had saddled me with, and if I kept doing it, I would finally be able to afford my own place. And there was always the chance, even if just a slim one, that it would help with my symptoms. Obviously last night had been a total bust, but maybe if I spent a longer amount of time with an alpha and was in a more comfortable place… like a room with a bed.
I didn’t know what was physically wrong with me. All the doctors my uncles had taken me to were confident I was making it all up. But I knew it was real. The constant pain in my head and neck, the dizziness, fatigue, insomnia…somethingwas wrong.
When I’d revealed as an omega, Cat had given me a book—The Care and Keeping of Omegas—and it said thatalpha pheromones and semen could help omegas recover from illnesses.
Honestly, it sounded like fucking propaganda, but at this point I was desperate.
Before I could second guess myself, I filled out the profile and uploaded a few recent selfies. I chewed my lip as my fingers hovered over the “submit” button. What if no one wanted me?
I huffed, pressing the button. Even if no one would want me for the long term, I was a fucking catch.
A pop-up on the app notified me that they’d received my application and would let me know once it was approved. I rolled over, my eyelids feeling heavy again. I had to work tomorrow and needed my body to get on board.
5
WESTIN
Iwalked out of the house to head to my shift at the bakery with a pep in my step. This morning, I’d been notified that my Sugar Nest profile had been approved and I could start receiving proposals from alphas wanting my services. I’d been so anxious about it yesterday, but today, it felt like the right next step. And, as a cherry on top, I’d woken without a headache and felt better than I had in ages.
Maybe I could go to the park or walk around Main Street after work. Lately, I’d been so exhausted after my shifts that I needed to conserve whatever energy I had left for the bike ride home.
I rounded the side of the garage and stopped short. It took my brain a moment to process what I was seeing.
My bike was in pieces on the ground.
A chill went through me. Had someone done this? And what if they were still here? I whirled around, my heart clenching, but I didn’t see anyone.
I took a few hesitant steps forward. The bike frame was twisted and mangled, and both tires were missing. I lookedaround again, at a loss for what to do. Why would someone do this? It was so… aggressive. Intentional.
I supposed I should call the police, but there was a fat chance of that happening. All the police had ever done for me was harass me and carry out the Designation Government’s abusive laws.
Thoughts whirled in my mind as I tried to think straight. The only thing that made sense to me right now was getting to work. I turned around, leaving my beloved bike, and started to walk.
Luckily, I was less than two miles from the bakery. If I walked quickly, I wouldn’t be too late. I could call Josie and ask for a ride. She would be here in an instant, probably absolutely thrilled to get an opportunity to drive. Of course, anyone who got in a car with Josie was taking their life into their own hands. That girl couldn’t drive for shit, and her alphas were too obsessed with her to take away her car.
But that wasn’t the reason I didn’t call.
The thought of asking for a favor, especially one that would take her away from the bakery right before opening, made my skin crawl. Every request I made was an opportunity for it to be held against me in the future. It was safer to have no needs. To demand nothing. Then people couldn’t accuse me of being a burden.
Not that Josie would ever do that. But the fear was still there. My heart wouldn’t let me give in.
So I kept walking, staying on the grass when the sidewalks disappeared as I approached downtown. Even though it was a bit chilly outside, it wasn’t long before my armpits were soaked. I should have brought a change of clothes, but I’d been so panicked about being late I hadn’t thought about it.
I was about half a mile away when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my jeans pocket and saw that Alex was calling. I almost didn’t answer, knowing he wouldn’t have anything good to say,but one thing I knew about my uncles was they were persistent to the extreme.
“Westin, I don’t have much time,” he started, as ifIwere the one interruptinghim. “I need to talk with you about the house.”
