1. Opal
Chapter one
Opal
M y breaths are like razor blades scraping down my throat as I inhale a sharp breath, casting my eyes over the nondescript file that Felicia, my Omega Representative, just handed over to me.
Pack Gold.
My perfect match. Apparently.
Well, according to the Academy’s perfectly curated algorithm , that is.
A match made in heaven, I’m sure. When in actuality, it will be a match made in hell.
For I am the devil in disguise.
The poor fools won't even see it coming.
There will be no happy endings for me. No scent matches or bonds as those things only happen in fairy tales.
They certainly don't happen to Omegas like me because I'm nothing but a puppet with invisible strings in this game of Alphas.
Simply put, I'm trapped.
Unbeknownst to the world and Felicia, my body is a prison. A gilded cage forged by Alphas.
I don't even recall the last time I made a choice that was mine.
Autonomy is a foreign concept in my universe.
“Well, Opal, what do you think?”
My fingers run down the pristine white file as my breathing continues to scrape my throat. My blood rushes through my ears, and somewhere beyond the roaring waves, I sense that ominous presence.
The one that makes me do his bidding.
And just like that, my thoughts and actions are no longer mine as a zap shoots down my spine, and finally, I meet Felicia's prim face with a well-practiced smile.
It hurts my cheeks but I have no choice but to smile through the pain.
Surely, she can see that I'm dead inside. There's no missing the vacant light in my eyes.
Yet Felicia just matches my grin when she spies my apparent elation, and it appears she's just as dead inside as I am.
I knew she put on a facade the day I first met her.
In the end, she's a government drone. But she does care. I've seen it.
If this pack mistreats me in any way, she will swoop in and save me.
But it's the pack who will need protection from me…
Not all her smiles are so fake.
Yet when my smile falters for just the slightest moment, her expression changes, and then a look of concern takes over her features.
She pushes her glasses up her pert nose. "Opal?"
No, I can't let her see.
Can't disappoint him.
My grin only stretches, and now I showcase my teeth—teeth the Academy paid for.
They're even, straight, and dazzlingly white, and I truly am the perfect poster girl for the Academy.
The ideal Omega.
Now that Bridget has finally graduated, I've taken top place.
Now packs all over will be clambering for a chance to mate and bond with me since Alphas only want the best.
Yet it seems Pack Gold won in the end.
“They sound delightful, " I mock chirp. "I’m sure we will have the healthiest babies.”
Another well-practised answer. One I have said in front of the mirror a thousand times.
I almost convinced myself at one point.
Truth be told, children are way out of the question for me. Yet so long as the world believes that they are my end goal in life, then sure; I will walk the walk, talk the talk.
I will play the game.
Felicia gushes, and then she has that twinkle in her eye. “And maybe you can name one of your daughters after me…”
Would if I could.
But I can’t have daughters.
There will be no little Felicias in my future.
Just darkness.
The only thing that should concern me is this pack's close proximity to the governor. They are all trained in his special forces, and the pack lead, Levi, is one of his best soldiers.
Hence why he made Governor Gryphon’s squad.
As well as his two pack brothers, Reed and Magnus.
And their Omega, Zayden, is a part of Oliver’s squad.
The governor's Omega has started a new regime where Omegas receive military training, and I admire his outlook, I really do.
But it won’t last.
Sooner or later, both Gryphon and Oliver will lose their power.
Because the warden has been planning their downfall for a while now.
My back goes ramrod straight as another shock runs through me, and I match Felicia's smile again. “Maybe I will.”
The poor Beta woman has a shine to her eye. Apparently, it’s all she has ever wanted—to have one of her Omega wards name a child after her.
Maybe another Omega can do her the honors.
Felicia dabs at her tears with a tissue. “Thank you, Opal. That means a lot. Well, two days from now, you will set out to meet your pack. You must be excited. All you’ve ever dreamed of…”
Is it?
I never really had a choice in the matter.
As I said, someone else has always pulled my strings.
Just a puppet in the end.
“Now go on, off you go to prepare.”
Of course.
Have to be perfect for my new pack now.
Every lucky Omega who's assigned a pack has to spend forty-eight hours at the Academy's spa.
Deep facial massages, full body waxes, everything.
There will be no part of my body that won't have been poked and prodded.
But what else is new in that department?
My body was violated long before I came to the Academy.
Finally, I rise from the chair, aware of her eyes on my back as I exit the office.
Around me, excited Omegas sit before their representatives, listing off the traits they most desire in an Alpha or a pack, and I envy them.
I wish I could be as happy as they are.
No doubt they’re a little brainwashed by government propaganda, but times are changing in this world.
Omegas are getting a choice.
So, I like to think that the Omegas in this room chose to be here.
Unlike me.
I strut across the grounds with practiced steps, and not once do my feet falter as my heels clip against the asphalt.
Other Omegas eye me enviously in their warm pastels, and I never did bother to make any friends here.
I never saw the point.
Hence why they all whisper.
They don’t like me.
It's jealousy, but if they knew of the true rot beneath this beautiful facade, then they would sleep a little easier at night.
Soon, I reach my apartment. One of the biggest at the institution as I procure my key, slotting in through the door’s mechanism.
Once I let myself inside, a sigh leaves my lips, and my breath no longer feels like razor blades as I lean against the door, closing my eyes.
I just need a few moments to myself.
They will be expecting me at the spa in a few hours.
So, this is all the time I have to pack.
Though there is nothing I am attached to in this apartment. Nothing that screams me .
Whatever me means.
I don’t even have a sense of self.
Everywhere I look, my eyes find lemon.
Lemon wallpaper, lemon bedsheets, and even lemon decor.
It’s my signature color. Or so I was told as it matches my eyes…
Yet my eyes are more of a warm amber. Maybe a whiskey color.
Well, I'd best pack some clothes. All lemon, of course.
Just like my summer dress.
Still, I allow myself a few more moments. My life is not my own, so it’s the least I deserve.
Now, I approach my mirror, gazing at the perfect mannequin that stares straight back at me.
Curled chestnut red hair that trails down to my waist, porcelain skin, and high cheekbones.
And my lips are to die for, too.
As they tell me…
Plump, and perfect for red lipstick.
Yet my amber eyes are empty. I can’t even remember when they looked full.
When they still had life.
I think I was a child.
But that life is long gone now. I’m not even sure if that little carefree girl was me at times.
No. Opal is no one.
Just another victim of the vicious cycle of bloodthirst and revenge.
We Omegas are pawns in this war of Alphas.
And the sooner we accept that grim fact, then the better off we will all be.
Oliver Hart is dreaming if he thinks Omegas can have true autonomy.
I gaze down at my pale wrist, spying the blue veins beneath.
My sisters always had their tattoos branded on their wrists—a tattoo that assigned them their number at the facility.
Yet, my tattoo is different.
For it was never branded upon my wrist.
My real identity must be hidden.
I am a Trojan Horse after all. I need to look innocent to the enemy.
Otherwise, they never would have let me enter their midst so easily.
So, I reach up, brushing the pad of my manicured finger across my full bottom lip, careful not to smudge my lipstick.
Then, I pull my lip down, spying the brand on my skin.
Now there's my real identity. The one that marks me for the monster I am.
The helpless puppet.
The warden’s little puppet.
Number 24.