Page 10 of The Omega’s Nest

Rough is the understatement of the century, but I’ll take it. I shrug and begin to clean my tear-stained face with the wipes Tristan gets me. Some omegas enhance their features with makeup and skincare routines, but I’ve never bothered with it. My logic is that if I just look like me, fewer alphas will want me. Tristan’s response to that was a snort and, “Oh, honey.”

“You know you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, right?” Cammie says, and I look at him in the mirror. He’s already meeting my eyes. I truly envy his directness—his dark brown eyes are always level, always comfortable staring right into and through anyone.

He keeps that stare on me when he continues. “We’re not responsible for the fucked-up society we live in that put us here, that thinks we can’t run our own life without an alpha attached to it. Not all countries are this fucking stupid,” he finishes with steel in his tone but a smirk on his lips.

It’s probably not worth telling Cammie that I was okay with an alpha running my life when I thought it was going to be a certain alpha fulfilling that role. The reality, the shock of ending up here, has certainly changed my tune. It is fucked up. We’re not less because we have heats, because we’re not as physically strong as alphas, because some of us—me included—like the idea of pleasing our alphas.

“I know.” I give Cammie a smile in between wiping my face.

“Then why are you crying?” Cammie asks. Shy and retiring Cammie is not—I can’t imagine him wanting to please anyone, alpha or not.

I shrug again and begin applying a toner, hoping Cammie will drop it.

“Did he hurt you?”

My eyes flick to Cammie’s and there’s no wry humour on his face now—he looks ready to smack Leo around if I confirm what he suspects. And people think omegas don’t have the capacity for violence.

But I’m not letting him think that.

“No! God, Leo would never, he’d never …”

I can’t finish that sentence. Leo would never do a lot of things, mate me being one of them, and he most certainly wouldn’t hurt me.

Cammie makes a considering noise. “Look,” he begins and drops his gaze, an uncertainty coming over him. I’m reminded then that for all his bravado, Cammie is young. Eighteen, an orphan, his journey here a lot like mine.

“I’m just saying, fuck them, okay? Fuck them all,” he finishes quietly.

I try my best to smile reassuringly for his benefit and wait for him to meet my eyes.

“Fuck them all,” I reiterate and feel exceedingly grateful when Cammie smiles, a hint of youthful shyness in it. Cammie needs reassuring too, and I need to get over myself and not make things worse for the other omegas around me by infecting them with my bleak mood.

“I’ll see you at dinner?” Cammie asks and gets up. “I hear we’re having lobster and caviar. Maybe even some creamy mashed potatoes on the side.”

I laugh and Cammie grins. Yeah, we won’t be having that. The alpha who owned this place, Phillip Whitman, liked to save money wherever he could. The man was a billionaire, CEO and owner of Whitman Inc., the most powerful company in Celo City, one of the top players in the world, but damned if he’d spend more than the bare minimum on us. Omega nutritional requirements seemed to follow the principle of, “Give them enough so they don’t die.”

When he died a couple of years ago, this place went to his son, Troy Whitman, with all the omegas contracted to Phillip transferred in ownership to Troy. I don’t know if we expected things to get better under the alpha’s son—probably not—but we certainly didn’t expect to never see the guy. Instead, his uncle and Phillip’s beta brother, William, operates this place under Troy’s alpha authority. A beta, we thought, would make things better. But no, it’s been business as usual—same shitty food, William fucking all Phillip’s omegas and testing the younger new arrivals same as before, the son and heir not deigning to make an appearance but no doubt enjoying the power trip of owning so many omegas.

“Save me a seat.”

Cammie nods, squeezes my shoulder, before quickly leaving the room. I drop my head in my hands once he’s gone and allow myself a few minutes of pity before I need to pull it together for the sake of the other omegas. Tears threaten and I swallow a few times, blinking rapidly.

“Come on, don’t do this. He’s not coming back, it’s over,” I whisper, that last ember of hope snuffed out now that he knows the truth of where I am, what I’ve become.

At least he left me his shirt. The scent will fade with time, but it’s something. A kindness, a comfort. I finish getting ready and return to my nest for one more whiff before I go down to dinner.

Chapter 4

Leo

The doors open at eight p.m. and I’m the first in line. I haven’t left my spot from across the road, so I’m still in my singlet, same pants, and I smell a bit ripe, but fortunately it’s not the same bouncer on the door. I haven’t slept, so my eyes are probably red and add to my dishevelled appearance, but it would appear the guards of this place don’t give a shit who they let in. Money is money and I haven’t been barred.

I breathe a soft sigh of relief—I’d worried about it. Addie could have done it. The alpha with him could have too.

Step one complete, now I just need to find him and drag him out of here.

The corridor is adorned with sconces filled with electrical lights in the shapes of flames, giving the already dim hallway a tacky feel. The bar is empty of alphas when I enter, just more of those lights on the walls and a chandelier at the centre that looks like a proper antique and clashes with the space. Omegas are behind the bar, dressed in tight black shorts and crop tops, and others sit at tables around a dance floor.

My heart pounds, nerves ramping up, as I scan the faces for Addie. I can’t scent him. He’s not down here. In his room, then.