Chapter 8 #2
Only a handful ever got taken out—an extremely select few. The perfect one. The ones who never hesitated, never questioned, never slipped. The ones who were considered the best of the best trained to serve in ways the rest of us weren’t even allowed to imagine.
The rest of us stayed. We stayed until we grew old and even then, there was a purpose for us here. To clean, take care of the younger Omegas. Some became teachers here, some helped cook. We all were useful in some way.
There would always be a purpose for us here at Lockswell, no matter the age.
“Right this way, Sir.”
I jerked at the Beta’s voice, then stood stock still, waiting for my orders. I didn’t move until the Alpha’s hand clasped around my own, pulling me forward. His touch was light enough, that if I wanted to, I could have easily pulled away.
“Thank you,” the one holding me said, easily guiding me to where he wanted me to go.
It was easier this way. It's easier to let my thoughts drift somewhere far off. Easier to let my body move wherever I was guided without having to think or worry or choose.
So, I did what I’d been trained to do.
I sank to my knees beside the Alpha after he took a seat, settling just a breath away from his leg. The floor here was warmer than the bathroom tile, but the faint chill from the air-conditioning brushed over my damp skin, raising goosebumps along my arms.
“Evander Whitlock, great to see you again.” Alpha’s Lockswell’s voice had a bite to it, the same type that poked needles into my skin.
I’d never cared for this man. His beady eyes always swept over us Omegas like we were nothing more than scraps left on a plate. And I knew for a fact that if you were one of the unlucky few who caught his attention, life became ten times harder than simply staying invisible.
Thankfully, I hadn’t had to face this man often. He only appeared once or twice a year to give his speeches, repeating the same message about our purpose each time. Other than that, he stayed distant, far above the rest of us.
And I preferred it that way.
I’d never been called into his office. Never been summoned for a face-to-face meeting. I’d always been a decent, well-behaved Omega. Good enough to stay off his radar, good enough not to draw his eye. Good enough to survive.
But that didn’t stop the fear that cursed through me as he settled in his seat. His presence was more than enough to tighten my stance, making sure I was perfect in his eyes.
“You are still wanting to purchase this Omega, correct?”
“Absolutely. After the time I’ve spent with him, he checks every box. Fits exactly what I’m looking for.”
The words hit me like a hand around my throat.
My stomach twisted so sharply, I had to lock my knees to keep from swaying. Being spoken about that shouldn’t have surprised me. It was normal. Expected.
But hearing it now, out loud, while I was kneeling beside him….it felt different. Wrong in a way I couldn’t name.
A part of me shrank inward, curling tight around the old fear that I was just a thing being appraised. A product. Something to be chosen or rejected depending on how well I fit someone’s list.
Another part of me wondered if he meant it as a good thing. If he wanted it to mean, I wouldn’t be sent back. If it meant, I wouldn’t be punished. If it meant, I might actually leave this place.
But hope was dangerous. Hope got people hurt.
So, I pushed it down, burying it beneath the familiar weight of obedience and silence. I kept my eyes on the floor, kept my breathing steady, and kept myself small.
If he thought I fit what he needed, then I needed to stay that way. I couldn’t afford to do anything else.
“It’ll be a shame to see this one leave the property. He hasn’t even been available for client service for more than two days.”
“Why would that matter? From what I understand, any Omega can be purchased once they turn eighteen—no matter how many days they’ve been in use.”
The Alpha’s weight shifted in his chair, forcing his leg close enough that if I wanted, I could lean against it.
“I just want to make sure that you’ll be pleased with this Omega. He’s not one I thought would want to be picked so quickly. Not with his…. talents.”
“And what talents would those be?”
The word talents hit something deep in me, and a memory rose before I could stop it.
I was younger, maybe fifteen, and standing in the training hall with a line of other Omegas. The lights were too bright, humming overhead, making everything feel exposed.
A handler walked down the row, clipboard in hand, calling out numbers and notes like we were items on a shelf.
“Posture. Voice control. Compliance. Emotional steadiness.”
Every time he paused in front of someone, they stiffened. Some tried to look eager. Others tried to disappear.
When he reached me, he didn’t look up from his clipboard. “Average. No special talents.”
I remembered the way my chest had tightened, not from disappointment, but from relief. Being average meant being overlooked. Being overlooked meant being safe.
It meant less pain, less pressure, and I was nearly invisible.