Chapter 4

Iwake up with a groan, my head pounding and my eyes heavy.

Shit! How long was I asleep for?

Bolting upright in my bed, I slap a hand over my mouth as a wave of nausea hits me like a brick. I blink my eyes, trying to adjust to the dark.

Dark. Fuck. It's nighttime. What time is it?

Frantically, I pat at the bed, searching for my phone. My hand hits something cold and solid. Grabbing my phone, I click on the screen lock and wince at the bright light.

Twelve thirty.

I let out a sigh of relief. They both should be passed out by now.

After the adrenaline of waking up settles, I realize something isn't right.

Blinking into the night, my brain and nose register a new smell. The room reeks of peaches and cream. My brow furrows in confusion, wondering how this could be when my stomach cramps. I groan, bending over as a sharp pain rips through me.

And then I'm utterly mortified when I feel a gush. Oh god, did I just piss myself?

Jumping to my feet, I steady myself as my head spins. I blink a few times before going over to the door and turning on the light. Looking down, I see there"s a wet spot on my pants. My cheeks heat in embarrassment before I rush over to the bed. It's also wet, only...

Leaning forward, I sniff, and my eyes widen. That isn't pee... no, that"s the source of the peaches and cream smell.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, my brain trying to process what the hell is going on. What on earth would be coming out of me that would smell like that, smell so good?

And then it hits me. I'm eighteen today.

No. It wouldn't happen less than an hour after my eighteenth birthday, would it? It took the guys months before they presented. Except Zane, who presented only a few days after his eighteenth birthday.

But a lot of people I know didn't present until closer to their nineteenth or even twentieth. Most everyone finds out no later than twenty-one.

If this is what I think it is, then that would mean I'm an... I'm an omega.

I blink dumbly at the wet patch as tears sting my eyes. All my life I was so confident I'd be a beta like my parents and their parents before them. I don't even think I have an omega in my immediate bloodline.

I'm an omega. Not a beta.

The knowledge of that hits me. I'm currently in the process of changing, my body at odds with itself. If I ended up as a beta, nothing much would change.

But becoming an omega... it's like altering my whole body's chemistry. Over the next week, my body will grow softer, adapting to be able to take a knot. And slick. God, there"s going to be so much slick. There already is.

I want to cry. I want to scream at the universe for screwing me over yet again. Not because I'm an omega but because the only alphas I'd ever wanted aren"t here.

We talked about this, if I ended up becoming an omega. Not often but it was mentioned because they too thought I'd be a beta.

They said they would be there for me, care for all my needs as I went through these changes. Like a sick person needing a hand to hold, a cuddle, or a back rub.

I have nothing. I have no one to be there for me. I'm going through the biggest life change, and I'm doing it alone.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shakily get to my feet. I need to change, to get out of these soiled clothes. And then I need to strip this bed and get the hell out of here.

Because if Charles gets up to use the bathroom and gets a whiff of my slick, there's no way I'd make it out of here.

That has me slipping into survival mode, one I unfortunately know so well.

Grabbing a change of clothes from my bag, I quickly change. Balling up my soiled pants and panties, I toss them on the bed before stripping the mattress and balling up the blankets.

Bag in one hand, blankets in the other, I climb out of the window. It's a warm night with a cloudless sky. For a second, my eyes find the moon, and I wonder—just for the smallest second—if Everett is looking too.

Then I shake my head at those silly thoughts. He's living life, rich and famous, with supermodels and actresses throwing themselves at his feet.

He wouldn"t be thinking about me. He wouldn't be looking at the moon.

Why would he? It's just a stupid fucking moon.

I'm hit with another adrenaline rush as I toss everything to the ground below before carefully grabbing onto the drain pipe, praying with everything in me that it holds my weight long enough for me to get down.

Thankfully, it does. The moment my feet touch the ground, I snatch my bag and the blanket up and take off running.

With only one thought in mind—getting as far away from that hellhole and its monsters as I can—I don't stop running until my lungs can't take it anymore.

I'm on the verge of passing out, another wave of nausea hitting me hard. I bend over to the side and puke into a bush.

"Kill me now," I groan, closing my eyes as the world spins. No. I can't stop, not yet. I don't run, but I do keep going until I'm deeper into town. Finding the nearest dumpster, I toss the slick-covered things into it, getting rid of any evidence. I just hope that it didn't soak through and onto the mattress. I wouldn't put it past Charles, after getting one smell of the proof that I'm an omega, to come track me down.

Apparently, I was worth a lot.

I knew omegas somewhere in the world were being taken against their will and sold to fucked up people, mostly alphas of power.

When I see a twenty-four-hour drugstore, I grab some of my cash and head inside. The man at the counter watches me. I do my best not to make eye contact as I head toward the health and beauty section.

As I search the shelves, I feel like I've been hit by a bus. My breasts ache, my stomach feels like someone is ripping me open from the inside out, sweat is pouring down my back, and if I don't put on a descenting pad soon, I'm going to be out of another change of panties.

Finally, I find what I'm looking for and snatch it, cradling it in my arms. When I get to the front, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and bring everything to the counter.

The guy rings my items up, and the look he's giving me makes me feel sick for a whole new reason. Alpha. And I bet anything he can smell me right now.

I slap a twenty onto the counter and grab my items. I don't even wait for the change, not giving him the chance to try anything, and rush out of the store.

I'm halfway down the block before I let myself slow down again. There's only so much further I can go before I become too weak.

This isn't how it was supposed to go.

The plan was to leave, to take my money and get a plane ticket out of here. Now everything is ruined.

I can't put myself at risk like this. If I get onto a plane, a small confined space with alphas while I'm perfuming like crazy, body slicking up a storm, it's not going to be good for anyone.

The reality is, I'm forced to stay here for a few days until the transformation is done. Sleeping helps, it speeds up the process. Only where do I go to sleep?

Sleeping on the streets is too much of a risk.

I'm going to have to go to the omega center. There's no other option. I'm not wasting all my money on a hotel, and the center will let me stay for free. They will give me a place to sleep, food to eat, and most importantly it's safe.

As I search up the address to the nearest one, I start to walk in its direction. I could get a cab, but again, I only have so much money, and the buses aren"t running this late. So even though I feel like crap, I have to walk.

There's a fast food place still open on my way, so I slip in and head for the bathroom to put on a pad. It's fucking nasty in here, so I do my best to make it quick.

When I'm done, I buy myself a small fry to go and head back outside. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to stomach it, but I feel hungry.

I hate walking. There"s no one around, just the odd sound of cars or sirens in the distance. I feel open and vulnerable. After what feels like hours of trudging along, I finally get to the omega center.

But before I enter, I look up at the moon again and let the tears flow. "You promised," I cry softly. "You all promised you'd come back for me. Where are you? Why didn't you come?" A sob breaks free as I continue to stare at the moon. "I hate you," I whisper, knowing damn well my heart and soul wishes that were true. "I hate you."

I've never felt so young and small as I do now, stepping into this omega center. I've heard some bad stories about places like this in other parts of the country.

Thankfully, only good things are posted about this particular center online, and I couldn't find any articles related to anything sleazy going on here.

The place is quiet—as expected with it being so late at night, but it's open all hours, so that was some good luck on my part—only the hum of some soft music filling the air. The only luck I seem to be having at the moment.

"Hello?" says a woman, who stands behind a desk in the center of the room. My hands grip my bag, and I take a deep breath through the pain and haziness.

"Hi," I manage as I make my way over to the desk.

"How can I help you?" She gives me a friendly smile, and her nose twitches. A look of sympathy I don't appreciate takes over her face.

"I, ah... I heard you take in omegas in emergencies?" I ask, unable to look her in the eye as I let my gaze wander around the room.

"We do." She nods. "Do you need a safe place to stay?"

I clear my throat and nod. "Yes. Only for a few days."

"Of course. You"re welcome to stay as long as you need." She gathers some papers and hands them to me. "All we need from you is an ID and to fill out these. It's nothing personal, and there's no wrong answers."

"Okay." I grab my bag and pull my wallet from my front pouch. Digging my ID out, I hand it to her before grabbing the papers and the pen she placed on top. "If someone came here looking for me, you"re not allowed to tell them I'm here, right? It said on the website you"re very strict when it comes to confidentiality."

"Of course. The only exception is the police. And even then, they need a warrant before we release any information. We take our omegas' care and safety very seriously."

Her words settle me more than I care to admit. I feel like crying again, the tears from before just barely dried on my face.

"Thank you," I whisper, then look away and down at the paper. I fill out some basic things like my name, birthday, and age. Thankfully, it lets you pick an option to not put down an address.

There are some general health questions, but overall, nothing too crazy. When I'm done, I hand it back and she gives me back my ID. She takes a moment to look it over and smiles. "Well, happy birthday!"

"Thanks." I try to smile but it doesn't reach my eyes. There's nothing happy about this birthday. There hasn't been since my sixteenth. Today is just a reminder that my life will never be easy. That I will have to work hard for everything I want if I want to stay alive, to stay safe.

That"s pretty much the goal for the foreseeable future. Stay alive, stay safe.

She does a few things before handing me a card and a package of papers. "This is programmed to your room. You are still required to sign in and out of the center when you leave. No guests are allowed past this desk. In your room, you will have everything you need regarding sanitary items and hygiene products. There are some basic hoodies and sweatpants already in the dresser, but if you require something a little less boring, just let me know." She winks. "You also have a private bathroom."

I blink at her in awe. All of this. I get all of this? "And it's all free?" I ask in disbelief.

"It's all free." She gives me a caring smile. "There is a small lunchroom on the lower level if you find yourself wanting something to eat. But if you call ahead, they will bring your meals to your room."

"Thank you." My eyes tear up for a whole new reason. This can't be real, can it?

I'm in no position to question it. So, I won't.

"I'm Lana, by the way, and this is Tara. She's going to take you to your room." A woman steps up to the desk, giving me a friendly smile.

"Hello."

I smile and nod, letting her lead me past the desk and down the hall. This whole place is a mix of pastel colors that gives you a calming feeling. Nothing bright, nothing dark. This place is surreal.

"Here you go. Just press one on the phone if you need anything. It's on the desk inside."

"Thank you."

She smiles and nods before leaving me at the door. Room 101. Using the key card, I scan it over the lock. It clicks, and I push the door open, gasping when I see the sight before me.

Lips parted, I step inside in utter awe. "Oh my God," I whisper, slowly taking in the room. This can't be real. None of this is real, is it?

The walls are a few shades darker than mint green, the floor is covered in a plush carpet that I know I'm going to like when I take my shoes off.

And the bed. It's something right off a Pinterest board.

A gold bar frame holds up a queen-sized mattress. A white comforter lays on top with a number of tiny pillows at the head of the bed, all in different colors that match the room so well.

My bag drops off my shoulder, hitting the ground with a thump as I continue to stare at the room in disbelief.

And then I start to cry. Deep, heavy sobs as the events of the past few days—the past few years, really—hit me all at once. I sit on the end of the bed, putting my face in my hands and cry for the girl I used to be, the girl I thought I'd become, the girl I am now, and the woman that I'll be one day.

I've never been so afraid in my life. I don't know what I'm going to do or where I'm going to end up, but I have to have hope.

This is my life, and if I don't at least try to do my best, I have no one to blame for my failures.

The system failed me, my foster parents failed me, and so did the three boys I thought never would.

But I won't fail myself. I'm the only one I can depend on. No one else.

A FEW WEEKS PASS, ANDit's sad to say, they were some of the best weeks of my life. The center has been a safe haven. The workers are nice, and the omegas are friendly. I haven't made any friends, not sure if I plan on doing that, but everyone is nice enough.

Here I've had an amazing night's sleep, always a full belly, and I'm not looking over my shoulder, waiting for Charles to come and snatch me up.

Mostly because I haven't left the building. There are a lot of things to do for activities. A gym to work out in, a pool to swim in, and a beautiful garden in the center of the property. But the best thing is the books.

So many books. I've let myself get lost in so many different worlds to take me away from this one.

Only, I can't do that anymore. I can't hide. I need to make my choice. Do I leave here and head to San Francisco for a new life, or stay here? I'm allowed to get a job and live at the center at the same time.

I could stay and live this comfortable life. At least for a little while.

I did find out that after around age twenty-five the center encourages you to meet with potential packs even if you"ve shown no interest in doing so beforehand.

That"s not something I'm going to worry about, though; I'll be long gone by then, building a new life for myself where I don't need any alphas to depend on.

The only thing about staying in Vegas is I'd be an hour's walk away from Charles and Karen.

At first, that's what worried me, but Charles and Karen hardly leave their house. I don't think they would be coming to the strip. This place is massive, and it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Plus, they don't have the money to hire anyone to search for me if they wanted to.

I don't think they would even suspect me staying here. They knew how badly I wanted to get far, far away from that house—from this town, from this state.

"You don't have to choose now, you know." Tara, a sweet twenty-one-year-old omega tells me. "Why not get a job first, work, and save up? Then, if you don't see yourself staying in Vegas or the center, you have enough to start a new life."

She's right. I only have a few hundred bucks left. Enough to get me a ticket out of here and maybe a few nights at a shitty motel. That"s not enough. I'd be living on the streets within a week.

"You're right," I sigh, leaning back in my seat as we eat our dinner together. "But there's not exactly a lot of options here for jobs that omegas can do safely. I'm not looking to become a prostitute—no hate to the women who choose that life—and I don't really have any interest in becoming a showgirl. I don't mind the singing or the stage, but I'm not really into all that big and flashy stuff. And the hours for that job would be backbreaking."

She chews on her lip before tucking a piece of her black hair behind her ear and leaning forward. "What if I knew a place that hires omegas only?"

"What"s the catch?" I narrow my eyes in suspicion.

"It's a job you might expect for being near the strip. There's gambling, drinking, and dancing. And some of the omegas, ah... sleep with the clients for money."

My brows jump. "So, a sex club?"

"No." She shakes her head. "It's far more classier than a sex club. The members are all rich alphas looking to piss away money and have a good time. They vet their clients well, and the girls are not forced to sleep with anyone if that's not what they choose. The pay is crazy good. You"re not twenty-one yet, so being a bartender is off the table, but you would do well as a dancer or a waitress. You"re fucking stunning, Jade, just what they would be looking for."

A small blush takes over my cheeks at her compliment. I've only ever gotten them from the guys or creepy ogling men. "Do you work there?"

"No." She shakes her head. "But my sister does. She's been working there for a few years. She's been trying to get me to as well, but I like my job." She gives me a shy smile.

Tara is a preschool teacher at one of the centers a few blocks over. "And I can't sing or dance to save my life. I'd be dropping trays of food and drinks every damn time, and I don't know anything about making drinks. That job would not be for me." She sticks her hand in her pocket and pulls out a card. "Here. If you're interested."

I take it from her and read the card, The High Roller.

"If you go, ask for the manager, Travis or Leisha, tell them Lola's little sister, Tara, sent you."

"Okay." I nod. "Thanks."

We change the subject, but I can't stop thinking about the card I placed in my pocket.

When I get back to my room, I sit on my bed and stare at it for a long time. I could go, and at least check the place out. What could it hurt? If Tara was right and the money is good, why not? It could help set me up with a stable life.

"Fuck it." I toss the card onto the bed and strip out of my clothes, heading for the bathroom.

After I'm showered, I dry my hair and do it up in loose flowing curls. I change into the best outfit I have. Cute black jeans, a maroon crop-top, and some ballet flats.

While I have asked for a few new things, I don't feel right asking for much. Not when the center is already doing so much for me.

Once I throw on mascara, eyeliner, and some ruby-red lipstick, I head out, leaving the center for the first time.

I have my purse with me, but I only brought a twenty. In one hand, I have my phone, with the GPS set to the club, and in the other, I'm clutching one of the safety defense keychains that the center gives all the omegas.

Highly aware of my soundings, I walk down the strip. Bright lights, big buildings, and hundreds of people are all around me, but being out in the open feels more safe than being confined on a bus or cab.

The club is about a ten-minute walk, so I'm there in no time. The GPS leads me to a flashy looking place. Big gold doors where two knights in armor stand next to it. Looking up, I see the words "The High Roller."

Taking a deep breath, I tell myself, "Here goes nothing."