The handler who’d cleared his throat earlier didn’t follow me, but I could still feel his stare between my shoulder blades as I walked away. It made my steps smaller, quieter, like I could shrink myself into something unnoticeable if I tried hard enough.
The path to the gym wasn’t long, but it always felt that way.
As I turned the corner, the sound hit me first.
Voices.
Not loud, not chaotic. Just controlled, clipped commands echoing off the high ceilings. The gym, despite its openness and size, was never a room I enjoyed.
A long line of Omegas stood along the far wall, spaced evenly apart, each one silent and still. A handler moved down the line, adjusting shoulders, lifting chins, fixing posture like they were arranging objects instead of people.
Another handler stood near a camera and cameraman, a clipboard in his hands.
I stepped inside, keeping my head down, waiting for someone to tell me where to stand. It didn’t take more than a few minutes before the handler with the clipboard to notice me.
“On the wall with the others.”
Chapter 2
Kasey
A handler tapped the wall beside me, a sharpthunkthat meantto stand straighter.I shifted just enough to fix my posture, heels together, and hands flat at my sides. The line of Omegas didn’t move, didn’t breathe too loudly.
We all knew better.
The handler, another faceless, nameless man that I wouldn’t be around long enough to learn a name from, stepped in front of me without warning.
He gripped my shoulders and pushed them back, adjusting me like I was something that needed aligning. His fingers were firm, moving me an inch here, a fraction there.
“Chin up,” he said, his voice quiet but it echoed through the room. He nudged my jaw anyways, tilting it to the angle he wanted.
I’d had my picture taken a handful of times over the years I’d been here, but never like this. Never lined up against a wall. Never with our posture corrected until we all looked identical.
Before, the photos were quick and careless — a snap for a file, nothing more. Just a way to keep track of us.
Slowly, the line inched forward, one Omega at a time. Some were positioned carefully, told to stand a certain way or turn their heads just so. Others had their photos taken quickly — a single shot of their face, another of their fully clothed bodies — and were moved aside without a word.
The line crept forward until the Omega beside me stepped away, leaving an empty space that meant it was my turn. My pulse thudded in my ears, but I kept my face blank, my posture perfect.
A handler tapped the wall behind me. “Step forward.” I obeyed instantly.
The gym felt like its walls were caving in, caging me into a space I didn’t want to be in.
The camera sat on its tripod like an eye waiting to blink. It was black, imposing, and held things that I would never understand.
But the man that stood behind it froze the blood in my veins.
I knew without it needing to be pointed out that the camera man was an Alpha. Someone important. Someone who had power that I’d never get to have.
I gulped, forcing my eyes to keep straight, to keep where the handler told me to place them.
A handler with a clipboard approached. He didn’t speak at first, just circled me once, slow and assessing, like he was checking for any flaws.
“Omega Kasey. Four feet are seven. Last checked clocked in at one hundred pounds even.” The handler read over the clipboard, his eyes flickering to me for a moment before he stepped backwards.
“Kasey?”
It took effort to not look at the cameraman as he repeated my name. It was spoken softly, almost wishfully. It wasn’t the way anyone spoke it here.
