Chapter One

Every protest I’d ever been to was different. My first was a simple march down the street leading to the private road of the local Omega Compound. I had also held signs outside of buildings where terrible decisions were being made, chanted in circles, worn a dog collar around my neck and tape over my mouth—my favorite.

I’d been protesting since the day I bloomed into an omega at thirteen and was forcibly admitted into the local Omega Compound for my supposed protection. Just playing in the snow, the proud thirteen-year-old that I was and bragging to my friends that I’d already gotten my period and designation.

I had no idea who had called the OC, still didn’t, since that information was considered sensitive. But I remembered begging my parents, my friends, anyone to save me. No one did. Even as the workers told me I was safe, that it was simply my hormones making me act out, I knew that what was happening was wrong.

They told me all about alpha ruts, something uncontrollable in the more dominant designation that was only triggered by an unbonded omega. For my safety, I needed to be taken away. To me, it had always seemed like an alpha problem.

My body went into heat, but I wasn’t dangerous. Alphas were.

Omegas were the ones taken from our families, pulled out of schools to learn how to be a proper omega. It was all bullshit. How to nest, how to cook, how to nurse, and watch children. All the things that supposedly came naturally, yet we had to learn.

Just the idiocy of that thought had me snorting out loud, breaking up the awkward silence of the sit-in.

A sit-in didn’t feel nearly as effective as all the other protests I’d been a part of. Honestly, it was boring, not speaking, holding myself still. I preferred the protests where I could yell, my throat aching for the next few days from screaming so loud I’d lost my voice. The only reason I kept my ass firmly planted on the cold hard tile flooring of the restaurant was for the sole reason that I believed in the stance we were taking.

Omegas’ rights were already limited. We weren’t allowed to live on our own, needing to be bonded to alphas in order to move out of the OC. Higher education was basically impossible since the institutes never accepted omegas on the idiotic basis of our heats forcing us to miss too many of the classes. And of course, there was the fact that we needed a chaperone if we left our homes. Alphas were dangerous to omegas—that much I agreed with.

The restaurant we were protesting in was owned by an up-and-coming politician. The alpha—because of course it was an alpha—claimed society needed more protective stances for omegas. Specifically, he wanted to age omegas out of the OC, forcing them to bond with alpha packs to help them through heats after a certain age.

Considering his pack didn’t have an omega yet, it was easy enough to see his true intentions.

That was why I, and this random group of betas, had shown up eight hours ago, immediately at the restaurant’s opening, taking up all the seats, including the floor space, and refusing to move or order. Despite never having met the group before, my natural designation meant I knew I was the only omega. Fortunately, that also meant I was able to participate since an alpha would have been able to detect my omega perfume.

Just the thought of some strange alpha scenting me made my perfume spike in agitation. I forced myself to take a deep breath, ignoring the cold bite of air down my throat from the rapidly lowering air-conditioned room attempting to force us out.

I thought of my own alphas—Jackson, Sebastian, Han, and Zeke. They rescued me from the OC two years ago. I’d already loved them when I decided to bond with them. When they learned my secret, and wanted to help me? I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with them, happily.

My mates were anxiously waiting for me on the other side of the shopping complex this restaurant was located in. When this protest eventually got shutdown, I’d make my way to them.

I wasn’t supposed to be out alone. That crime alone would get me sent back to the OC, potentially taken away from my mates. Hiding my designation was usually possible among betas since their ability to smell perfumes, designations, and heightened emotions was weaker.

The front door swung open, making me jump, and revealing the exact reason I never made it to the end of the protest. Peace officers.

Dressed in protective gear around their chests and backs, their job was all about designation handling in public. Usually, that meant pulling alphas out of public ruts, stopping alphas from bullying betas, even pulling freshly perfumed thirteen-year-old omegas from their homes.

Since more protests had been popping up, they were the ones answering the call.

They were usually a mix of alphas and betas, which meant my time was officially up when they arrived. Outside, I was usually safe long enough to run the planned route as soon as they showed up. Inside, it would take a bit of finesse to manage not getting arrested as they blocked the only exit.

“Okay, folks,” one of the officers said, already sounding bored. “You’ve made your point. Now it’s time to leave.”

No one moved, but my muscles tensed.

This was my least favorite part. No matter the good I felt like I was doing by showing up for the cause, I never got to follow through. When the peace officers showed, I took that as my opportunity to leave.

It was a compromise. Commit to the amount that meant I could go home every night and be with my mates. Even if it meant I didn’t make the grand declaration I always wanted. To be the first omega arrested. To prove that omegas weren’t happy with the way things were.

Even my best friend, Koda Tucker, was doing more. She was an omega who somehow presented as a beta, meaning she was able to attend college, and actually get a degree. And she had bonded with a pack of alphas. The girl was getting knotted and educated in the same week.

The same peace officer sighed, adding, “Anyone still on the premises that’s not an employee or is unwilling to purchase food, will find themselves in a cell overnight and charged.”

I wish they’d given me more time. In my own mind, I had refused to get up. In my mind, I’d seen the inside of the cell or the center without fear. Only, I couldn’t get myself to risk my pack.

Here I was, at a protest, slowly standing up. Around me, I heard the mutters of the betas who thought of me as weak for leaving.

The entire restaurant watched me move, step by step closer to the door. I could scent at least seven peace officers, almost all of them betas. Except one. They didn’t fully move out of the way of the door, attempting to force me to walk between the two rows they’d created in order to leave.

My heart was pounding, partly from all the silent attention, and partly because I hated the peace officers. They might not have been the exact ones that took me from my home, but their uniforms were the same. It was enough to make me feel thirteen again, making me lose all the confidence I’d actually gained in the last eight years.

Each thud of my boots seemed to be the only noise, and much louder than shoes had probably ever sounded before.

One of the officers opened the door, the bell chiming—

Then I felt it. A hand on my upper arm. The sheer fabric on my sleeves wasn’t enough to hide the warmth from their touch.

I knew immediately, before their scent even reached my nostrils. Only alpha assholes grabbed whoever they pleased, and the old, dusty scent only confirmed their designation.

“Are you an omega?”

Maybe his question was rhetorical. Maybe he was only barely able to scent my omega perfume in the clouded room of beta stress.

Panic looped in my stomach until I thought I might throw up right there. Their touch wasn’t painful, but my instincts demanded only my alphas be allowed to touch me. The aggressive behavior would definitely get me some mandated lessons back at the OC.

Instead, I swallowed down the growl, the need to bare my teeth and claw at the hand that had still been touching me. And I screamed. Not the kind asking for help, the loud high-pitched kind that made the officer drop my arm in a startled reflex.

Then I ran.

My feet took me toward my alphas without even thinking.

The restaurant was in the middle of the fashion center, a prime commodity spot considering the amount of foot traffic it gets from shoppers. Unfortunately, the fuck-ton of people didn’t work to my advantage.

No one seemed willing to move out of my way. I tried shoving and squeezing through crowds, but I could still feel myself being chased like prey.

My entire focus was on the path in front of me. I couldn’t see over the shoulders of basically everyone, which meant I couldn’t tell if I’d passed the turn I should have made between the two stores that was a shortcut to the back parking lot.

Despite the fear coursing through my system, it wasn’t enough to block out the burn in my lungs from how much I was heaving, or the strain in my calves as I tried to run with my thick heavy boots. I could tell I was naturally slowing down, but not even that knowledge helped me move faster.

Unlike my mates, I couldn’t feel them through our bond. Omegas relied on our sense of smell to identify our mates’ emotions which meant the bond was more one-way.

Maybe I was hoping that they’d sense my panic and come to my rescue? Except the longer I ran, shoving and stumbling, the more I realized that I wasn’t going to be rescued this time.

I felt the tug on the back strap of my overall-denim dress, just enough to throw off my momentum. My feet stumbled as I tried to right myself. Then a sharper tug, this one with a full grip on my clothes. Rather than falling straight back into the alpha, the movement pulled me toward his side.

I was looking up at the alpha—knowing that something was wrong even without my instincts. The male was pale, and backing away?

Other faces started to crowd in around me, and I couldn’t figure out how they were managing to look down on me. I was used to others sort of glancing down to talk to me, but this felt extreme.

Looking around, I realized I was on the ground. Something touched my ear, most likely a bug, and I lifted my hand to swat it away, feeling like it took every ounce of my strength to move my arm.

When I lifted my hand back up, I saw the red, and it took me several long seconds to realize it was mine. That I shouldn’t be lying down.

The faces over me changed. These ones were much more handsome—my mates. Sebastian was at my head, completely upside down, and saying something if his moving lips was anything to go by. His indulgent smile was missing, the one he always wore as he called me princess and let me run wild. Han and Zeke, like always, were on either side of me, almost perfect mirrors of each other if you ignored their looks. Where Zeke was an artist in skill with his drawings, Han was the masterpiece of clothes, loving to try styles from around the world. And of course, Jackson, my grumpy mate, the one that was usually glaring at the world to protect me but was glaring down at me.

That’s how I knew something was wrong. My other mates might overreact, not Jackson. He’s my levelheaded alpha. The one that takes the pamphlets about keeping an omega happy very seriously. He made it his life goal to keep me safe and healthy and happy.

I reached out, visibly watching the shaking of my hand as I touched his cheek. His dark skin hid the stain of my blood. His hand caught mine, keeping it against his cheek, which was good because I couldn’t hold it up anymore.

For just a moment, the world went dark—no, I blinked. My eyelids were like weights, and I was never one for exercise unless you counted every time I was on top of my mates, riding their dicks. That was a thigh workout for sure.

I wanted to ask something, only the words went missing almost as soon as I thought of them. Despite how light my body felt, it was impossible to open my eyes again. And then the world truly went to shit.