The Beta Grift

Prologue

Maggie

“You can’t be serious! I’m a beta!”

The assessor looks at his readout again and clucks his tongue.

“I’m sorry, Miss O’Neil. Even if you hadn’t already had your first heat—and it was a doozy of one!

—the tests are conclusive.” He offers what I assume is supposed to be a comforting smile.

“Being an omega isn’t so bad. Find the right pack, and you’ll get pampered and cherished for the rest of your life. ”

This can’t be happening. Mom promised. She promised. She went to her grave swearing that I’m a beta, that I’ll never be an omega slave.

I cross my arms over my chest with a huff. “I don’t want to be pampered. I want to be left alone.”

He pats my shoulder and gathers his things. “Don’t worry. You’ll see. Once your pack finds you, you’ll forget all this beta nonsense.”

I watch him leave with a heavy lump in my stomach.

Omega. It’s impossible.

One of the clinic nurses wanders in with a fresh gown. “Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Oliver said he was done in here.”

“My bad. I’ll get dressed and get out of your hair. I’m just … in shock, I guess.” I slide off the exam table and reach for my clothes, which I dumped on the chair in a haphazard pile when I changed into the gown.

She looks at me with sympathy in her brown eyes. “Beta, then? Oh, honey, it’ll be okay. Plenty of betas find nice packs to take them in.”

“Worse,” I grouse as I rip off the gown and fish for my underwear in the pile. “Omega.”

The shrill squeal that comes from the nurse could wake the dead. She tackles me before I can step into my undies and assaults me with an obtrusive hug.

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!”

I want to tell her to fuck right off with that nonsense, but I guess I’ll have to get used to people reacting this way. I tolerate a few seconds of the hug, then gently push her off.

“Uh, thanks. I really should get dressed. You guys probably need the room for the next patient.”

“Oh! I almost forgot!” The nurse digs a card out of her pocket and presses it into my hand.

“Here. This is a great meeting place for omegas and potential packmates. It’s a club, but not, like, a sex club or something gross.

It’s more of a social club. Daylight hours, tea and crumpets, that kind of thing.

All the best and brightest omegas go here.

You’re such a pretty thing; you’ll probably have betas begging to work for you.

And the alphas!” She fans herself with her hand. “Honey, the alphas are to die for!”

Something she said stops me cold. “Wait … Betas get paid to work for omegas?”

She blinks blankly at me, as if I’ve just spoken in a foreign language. “Of course. Young omegas like you need help during your heats, before you find your bonded mate. Betas are the best for that, but they can cost a pretty penny.”

An idea starts to brew in my head, and for the first time since this omega nonsense reared its ugly head, I smile.