1. Amaya

1

AMAYA

A lways read the fine print.

You'd think after the year I've spent here, I would have learned that lesson. Every moment and interaction at the OPS Rehabilitation Center is filled with cloaked layers.

Even in the most basic daily activities like eating. I didn't eat a meal without being watched and tracked the entire time I've been here. But it's okay right, because they need to make sure we omegas were eating enough and behaving normally with our food.

The dietary rule from the academy shifted just a bit. Diet MUST be followed at ALL times turned into omegas are allowed to eat what they choose but MUST be monitored.

Then there's the hygiene. At the academy, we weren't allowed to bring our own soaps. Only descenting products were available for us. Scent dampening shampoo, conditioner, and body soaps will be provided - MUST use twice daily.

At rehab, there are bins upon bins of options with different scents available for us to choose from. The Premium Designation Academy stripped us of our scents, and here they give us the freedom to decide what we bathe ourselves in as long as we do bathe. Our choices don't go unnoticed, though.

There are also the nesting materials that were shoved at all of us on our first day. Anything to make the omegas more comfortable. Except, these people didn't understand half of what we experienced at the academy.

Nesting is FORBIDDEN.

Rock solid mattresses, one ripped sheet, abrasive lighting, cracked ceilings, and doors that never locked. Yeah, we gave the OPS a run for their fucking money those first few months. Some of us still test the degrees our therapists have. Like me.

I doubt this place is meant to resemble the academy, but it does in a lot of ways.

Don't get me wrong, it's gotten a lot better these past few months as some of the omegas who were rescued at the same time as me have begun to help out around here and give their opinions. Shit, some of them even work for the rehab facility now.

It's just the constant watchful eyes, expectations of normalcy, and the overwhelming obviousness that this isn't normal. Then there's the fact that us omegas were separated from the betas and alphas almost immediately that first day. I don't think any of us really wanted to be around them anyway, but it's been a year and the only interaction with the other designations are the people running the place.

I shudder, my hand trembling as I tuck my hairbrush into my green duffle bag.

Eyes like leaves blowing in the breeze. With each shift of the branches, new depth reveals itself in dark shadows and piercing sunlight.

"Amaya?"

Jolting, I blink away the memory and zip my bag with a little more force than necessary.

"Yeah?" I reply quietly, turning to see the poor omega stuck keeping an eye on me for the foreseeable future.

She's beautiful. Caramel brown hair that brushes her collarbone and brown eyes that see a little too much for my liking. I'd love to dislike her and her fairy-like pointy nose, but Kate is literally the best. Funny, a little crazy, and ridiculously adept at reading a room.

"He's just pulling up. You ready?"

She might make it hard for me to dislike her, but I can sure as shit hate the news that comes out of her mouth sometimes.

Kind of like when I first met her in therapy a few weeks ago. Blindsided by the tiny ass print at the bottom of my rehab graduation letter, I didn't realize I would be getting a check-in support person until I already had one.

"You must be Amaya. Can I call you Amy?" she had asked with a hand outstretched.

I admit that was the most I have reacted to anything in years . Five years, actually.

" Fuck no, Dora," I retorted and refused to shake her dainty ass hand.

Kate grinned wider than my therapist's shocked eyes. What followed was a rough forty-five-minutes going over all the reasons I need Kate's help in the outside world.

"Ready," I reply to her earlier question with a sigh.

Hiking my belongings over my shoulder, I give my dorm room a final glance. I've found many faults in this program, but my room wasn't one. I was allowed to make this space my own and damn if I didn't fill it with all the cozy green and gold things I could find in the OPS offerings.

My eyes linger on a dull gold quilt that reminded me of... No, I shouldn't .

"You can take it, Amy."

Huffing, I turn away from the nest I filled with colored memories of my childhood and scowl at Kate. "This swiper won't be swiping."

I toss my long brown hair in her face on my way into the hallway, but Kate just laughs and mutters something to herself.

We pass other omegas who give me small smiles, but I don't have anyone to say goodbye to. Friends weren't allowed at the academy, and I didn't have the mental capacity to make any here. I made my rehabilitation experience all about moving through the motions. My therapists and all the staff members really tried. Everyone was great. I wasn't. Hence the check-in omega strutting the hallway beside me.

Kate was the omega of our grade that disappeared the first damn day of classes. Tortured for years and forced to bond her alphas, Kate survived hell. We all did, but hers was different. Everyone had different experiences, which was made known during the many guest speakers we had.

A nudge on my arm jolts me from my trip down memory lane. "You're really in your head today. Wanna talk about anything?"

I snort slightly and side eye her. "Let's see. I'm about to step outside and join society for the first time in five years. Not only am I completely out of my depth, but I have to be released into the care of a man who never fucking wanted me. Oh, and my only friend is forced to hang out with me."

Kate raises a brow and grabs my hand before I can push the door open that will release me into the real world.

"Amaya," Kate says softly, a tone she only uses when she's being serious. "This is a lot. And it's going to keep being a lot. Probably forever."

"Gee, thanks." I roll my eyes.

"Shut up," she scolds. "What we went through was so many layers of fucked up. We won’t ever be able to peel all those away and soothe those hurts. All we can do is be kind to ourselves."

My throat closes and I fight the wobble of my bottom lip. "I know," I whisper, and close my eyes.

"As for your?—"

My head snaps up, a little growl slipping from my thudding chest.

Whining, purring, hissing, growling or ANY instinctual sound is FORBIDDEN.

Another rule from the academy that rehab has worked to override and one of the only ones that's been easy for me to kick.

"As for Paul ," Kate continues, stressing the alpha’s name, "I think you two really need to have a conversation."

Angry now, I brush past her, opening the door and stomping my way outside. Turning to walk backward, I throw my arms wide with annoyance. "What's there to say? Hi, I'm the daughter you never gave a shit about. Sorry I'm so fucking damaged you have to babysit a twenty-two-year-old so she doesn't kill herself ?"

Kate's mouth pops open and her gaze flicks over my shoulder. A second later, the scent of fresh snow and a choked, pained voice assault my senses.

"Amaya? Is that you, darling?"

I fight the urge to curl in on myself, but I do anyway. It seems every strong, independent skill I've learned flies out the window in the face of the man who should have loved me more than anything in the world. There were many scenarios I thought about the past few weeks since the OPS got into contact with my father, the man I've only known of by name, but this wasn't it.

I completely wilt under my father's imposing stare and towering height because, while I have been put through a lifetime of humiliation, none is worse than forcing my father to pretend to care about me.

No expectations .

For all I know, he's just here to protect his reputation. I bet he'll stick me in a house and forget about me as soon as we're out of here. Paul never wanted a cute, bubbly little girl, so he sure as shit won't want me now. I'm just a shredded girl who has no clue how to survive.

And I don't know if I even want to.