CHAPTER ONE

GREEK

––––––––

Some feared death. Not me. A grave would be a welcome reprieve from my current state. To me, death would be beautiful. In death, there would be no more pain, no more hunger, no more fear, no more tears. In death, I would find peace. Yet, achieving death was just beyond my reach. It was something I couldn’t bring myself to accomplish on my own. I’d tried.

I always chickened out. And later, I hated myself for being too afraid to find peace. And because I couldn’t do what needed to be done, I remained trapped in the cold, damp, smelly basement that had become my prison. Every corner of my cage seemed to mock me, a constant reminder of my failures.

Bruises marred my body, a grotesque painting of bluish, purple, and yellow hues against my pale skin. Dirt clung to me like a second skin, a filth I could never fully scrub away, no matter how hard I tried. My stomach cramped painfully, gnawing hunger a constant companion. The stale bread and watery soup that was always brought down to me around this time would do nothing to alleviate the relentless pangs.

The sudden bang of the door leading to the basement slamming against the wall made me flinch violently, my heart leaping into my throat. Someone was coming. Warning bells went off in my head as icy fear gripped my heart in a vise, squeezing until black spots danced before my eyes.

I wanted nothing more than to pass out so I didn't have to be awake for what might happen next. What would they want from me this time? Would they use me in front of the pack while the others watched and jacked off? Or would they plow me full of aphrodisiacs and use my slick to make one of their betas susceptible to their knots?

Both thoughts left me feeling disgusted, close to vomiting. A little of my choking fear dissipated at the sound of soft footsteps descending the stairs. The maid's footsteps were light, sweeping across the floor because she had a habit of dragging her feet. I was pathetically happy to hear that sweeping sound instead of the loud stomps that indicated the alpha was approaching.

Huddled in the corner, I turned to look behind me, wary. Kimmy approached, her white tattered dress so threadbare it revealed more than it concealed. Hatred flared in my chest at the sight of her, hot and acidic, before I ruthlessly tamped it down. I tried not to despise her too much. She was just as trapped here as I was, a pawn in the alphas' cruel games.

Hurt people, hurt people. She hurt me because the alphas in the pack hurt her. It was an endless, vicious cycle of abuse, and I was at the very bottom of the totem pole. The worthless one. The beautiful omega with the sweet scent who didn’t enjoy sex unless he was out of his mind with the heat fever.

An omega who was even rarer than most because he was a catalyst , an omega who could trigger a designation change in those who had secondary designation traits. But he was broken and had only triggered a change once when he was eighteen, but never again. However, they kept him around as a trophy, polishing him and dressing him up when they wanted to show him off.

"Useless," Kimmy sneered as she unlocked my cell door with a harsh clang.

Her cold brown eyes raked over my huddled form with undisguised disdain. I lowered my gaze to the grimy floor, knowing she detested it when I stared at her for too long. She utterly loathed my silver eyes, claiming they were unnatural, a freak's eyes, even for an omega. Numerous times, she’d told me that my long, pale blonde hair was wasted on someone like me.

She had no idea that I’d much rather have her plain face, short brown hair, and even her designation as a beta. Her jealousy made her behave like a viper toward me, not realizing that I’d do anything to change places with her. She unlocked and opened the cage door. Then, with a careless flick of her wrist, Kimmy shoved a plate across the cell floor toward me.

It skidded and wobbled, splattering most of its meager contents. I still hadn't finished yesterday's unappetizing offering, the scraps now congealed and swarming with flies. Yet here she was again at lunchtime with the same revolting dish. My stomach churned at the sight, hunger pangs warring with nausea.

I'd managed to choke down the breakfast I'd been brought hours ago: stale toast and a single slice of bologna. It was ambrosia compared to the foul, watery soups they brought me for lunch. Dinner would be comprised of the alpha's leftovers, which I would undoubtedly refuse to eat.

The alpha had a repulsive habit of defiling my dinner to assert his dominance and remind me of my place. Once he finished eating, he would jack off onto his plate before having the leftovers delivered to my cell. Feeding me his cum was just one of the many degrading ways he reinforced that I was nothing more than his property, a receptacle for his basest urges.

I stared at the watery soup, most of which had sloshed onto the floor when the maid slid it across to me. Lumpy and unappealing, it would undoubtedly taste like salty, flavorless dishwater. And yeah, I knew what dishwater tasted like, thanks to Kimmy. The mere thought of putting the alpha’s leftovers in my mouth made me gag.

I knew I should choke down this soup to stave off the gnawing hunger that would surely grip me when the alpha's dinner scraps arrived. The maid scrutinized my untouched meal from the previous day with obvious irritation.

"You didn't even eat yesterday's lunch," Kimmy pointed out snidely, her upper lip curling as she leaned against the open cell door. "I swear, you're nothing but a waste of space and resources. We're squandering food by keeping you alive. And for what? You can’t even get Alpha Natalie pregnant, no matter how many times she locks you.”

I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about Natalie or the things she’d done to me.

“And you triggered Sara’s omega gene years ago, making her an omega a few days out of the year. Yet, whether she’s beta or an omega, she can’t get pregnant by you or Alpha Nathan.”

I hadn’t tried to trigger her. I hadn’t even known I was a catalyst. But the first night the alphas forced the two of us together, something strange happened. After a little kissing and touching, her scent had changed from a faint floral scent that was much better than Kimmy’s sour musk, to something almost as sweet as mine. Then slick had dripped from her as she’d gone into a heat, something beta’s couldn’t do. That’s when the alphas and I learned what I was.

“You triggering her was pointless, just like you.” Kimmy sneered. “You’re useless to your bond.”

I flinched at the casual cruelty in her bitter voice, each word a barb piercing my skin. Bond? I nearly laughed at the absurdity of her words. I had no bond. I’d never been registered to any bond. Officially, I was an unregistered and unclaimed omega. I’d been taken at a young age and groomed by the previous alpha to be part of his son and daughter’s bond.

I despised the alpha twins, Natalie and Nathan. Both used me. Both hurt me. It was the beta in their bond who was kind to me. The one I’d triggered by mistake. But even her kindness only extended to slight smiles and looks of pity. Like me, she was trapped in this nightmare, a helpless prisoner forced to play her role in the alpha twins' sick bond.

I knew the twins had done unspeakable things to break her, to mold her into the obedient, submissive beta they wanted. So, while she never participated in my torment, she was powerless to stop it. We were both ensnared in this web of abuse and suffering, two insignificant, disposable playthings for our alpha masters.

The twins had choked her so badly one night, years ago, that she’d lost the ability to speak. They’d done it so she wouldn’t complain about how she was treated nor reveal to anyone that she’d been triggered. The little beta and part-time omega pitied me, but I pitied her more. I could still speak, though I rarely did. Remaining quiet was safer.

“Have you never wondered why they haven’t given you their claiming bite?” Kimmy snapped.

I didn’t reply. If I did, I would’ve told her that I was thankful they wore mouthpieces when they rutted me to prevent themselves from officially claiming me. I already had to suffer their touch. I didn’t want to wear their bites on my neck, proof that they owned me.

“Ignore me all you want. But if you don’t prove yourself useful soon, you’ll be sold to traffickers once the pack leaders find a new omega at the auction next month,” Kimmy taunted. “And you’ll be worth more to them if you’re unclaimed. Alphas like to be the first to bite their prey. But I’m sure you won’t make it to the auction block. A pretty omega like you would never survive the traffickers’ abuse. Trust me, I know. I’ve seen what they do to your kind. It’s not pretty.”

My eyes snapped open, widening as her words sank in. Traffickers. Auction block. Death would be a welcome reprieve right about now. If I asked nicely, could I convince Kimmy to end my pitiful existence? Perhaps if I made her angry enough, she’d do it on her own. Hmmm.... No. Death wasn’t in the cards just yet.

No matter how much I provoked her, Kimmy would never kill me. She’d beat me. She’d berate me. But she wouldn’t end me. She wouldn't risk displeasing the alpha twins. They held her fate in their hands just as much as they held mine. She continued spouting off about the auction, her voice a constant, grating noise in the background.

I tried to tune her out, curling tighter in the corner of my cage, making myself as small as possible. The fresh bruises on my body ached with every movement. Therefore, I tried to remain still as one word kept drifting through my head. Auction . The word rolled around in my mind like a curse.

Being sold to traffickers might be better than living here, but the truth was, I didn’t know what awaited me outside these walls. It had been years since I’d been away from the compound. But I heard the rumors of the rogue alphas in these parts and how dangerous they were. If I was auctioned off, I could end up with some of those brutes.

A new pack could treat me worse than my current alphas. That’s if I survived my time with the traffickers. The horror stories I'd heard of them were enough to give my nightmares, nightmares. Kimmy continued to degrade me, her words blurring into a hum. I closed my eyes and retreated into my mind, imagining a different life – a life free of pain, a life with a bond that was totally different from the one I’d been forced into.

In my perfect bond, I was cherished and loved, like the omegas of old. Before the Omega Plague ravaged our world and forever altered the delicate balance between alphas, betas, and omegas, our kind was respected and valued. Now, we were little more than commodities – kidnapped, captured, sold, and abused.

But in the old days, omegas were cherished and protected, valued for our rare healing gifts and the vital role we played in ensuring the continuity of our species. Alphas and betas alike treated us with reverence and respect, understanding that our well-being was inextricably tied to the well-being of all.

But the virus changed everything. It decimated our already small numbers, wiping out half of the global omega population in a matter of months. And those who survived were left forever altered, our biology irrevocably changed. According to some theories, that was when some omegas became catalysts.

But we weren’t the only ones who changed. The same was true of alphas and betas. The plague rewrote the very fabric of all of our beings, blurring the lines that had once been so clearly defined and creating secondary designations in some that a catalyst like me could trigger. Then, there were the reproductive changes.

In the old days, alphas couldn’t impregnate betas. Neither could omegas. Betas could only get pregnant by other betas and give birth to more betas, which is why betas have always been the majority. Now, post-plague, alphas could impregnate betas, and omegas could bear children with either alphas or betas.

But the offspring of beta-alpha or beta-omega unions would always be either betas or alphas. Never omegas. It took an alpha-omega or omega-omega union to produce an omega. The Council's solution to the loss of so many omegas to the plague wasn’t to protect and cherish those left. No, the Council sought to control us.

They claimed it was for our protection, that the new laws and restrictions were designed to keep us safe in a world turned upside down. But the truth was far more insidious. The Council wanted to breed us like livestock, to treat us as commodities to be bought, sold, and traded at their whim.

They stripped away our rights and our very humanity. We weren't people to them. We were resources to be exploited. Omegas were forced to register with the Council, our lives and fates no longer our own. We couldn't live independently, hold jobs, or make any choices for ourselves.

Instead, we were placed in the homes of alphas who wanted to start families, treated more like pets than partners. The lucky ones ended up with kind alphas who saw them as more than breeding stock. But far too many were not so fortunate. And then there were the omegas like me, the broken ones, the useless ones.

The ones who couldn't perform the one function that gave our lives value in this twisted new world order. I was defective, incapable of fathering the children that were so desperately needed to ensure the survival of our kind. And because of that, I was less than worthless to my alphas.

They would keep me around for a while longer until they'd wrung every last bit of sadistic pleasure from my suffering. Once they tired of me, once they'd used me up and broken me down, I would be discarded like trash. Sold off to the highest bidder, most likely to endure even worse horrors as some affluent alpha's plaything or a rogue alpha’s chew toy.

To avoid thinking about that dark future, I retreated into my fantasy world. That was where I found peace. It was where I dreamed of an alpha who could love and protect me despite my many flaws. But only one alpha. I didn’t want to be part of a large pack. One alpha and one beta were all I wanted in my dream pack.

Alphas and omegas were needy and driven by their emotions. Betas were level-headed and provided balance and emotional stability to a pack. I dreamed of a beta who would be my friend – someone to watch movies with and tease our alpha together. In my fantasy, I wasn’t broken, shy, or afraid to voice my opinions and speak my mind.

In my fantasies, my voice mattered. My feelings mattered. I mattered . My fantasy bond didn’t care that I couldn’t father a child. They loved me for me and only me. However, deep down, I knew that was just a fantasy.

The harsh reality was that I would never find such a bond. I wasn’t sure I even deserved such a bond. Kimmy’s loud curses pulled me out of my thoughts. Why was she still here? She’d dropped off the food. She could leave now.

“What the fuck is going on up there,” she snapped.

I glanced over my shoulder to find her gaze on the staircase. I listened carefully, finally hearing what she was hearing. A ruckus was brewing upstairs. Screams could be heard overhead, and they were growing louder. My heart raced as the sounds of shouting and chaos grew louder. A gunshot rang out, making me flinch. Kimmy’s gaze met mine.

The fear I was feeling was reflected in her dark, tired eyes. She rushed away from my cell, the door swinging open in her wake. Not only had she forgotten to lock it, but she’d forgotten to close it. I stared at the open door, my thoughts churning as Kimmy rushed up the basement stairs, leaving me alone, cell unlocked.

Was this my chance at freedom? Could it be as simple as just stepping through the open door? The chaos upstairs continued, more gunshots ringing out. Screams and wails of pain filled the air, the sound of a battle raging above. I hesitated, fear freezing me in place. What if I was caught? The punishment would be severe. But if I stayed, my fate was certain. I’d be sold.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to move.