11. O-11
Chapter eleven
O-11
The difference between the House of Bitches and the Omega Center where the bus takes us is as stark as night and day. It’s obvious in the way we’re treated courteously, and our rooms aren’t locked from the outside, but also something more, as if someone has ingrained vitality into the walls.
Or maybe that’s the natural light pouring through windows and skylights talking, or the no-expense-spared ventilation system which neutralizes even our strong omega scents.
At the first opportunity, I soak for an hour in a hot tub full of lavender soap until I’m as wrinkly as a pug. Just when I’m contemplating dragging myself out, someone knocks enthusiastically on my bathroom door and O-18 calls through the wall.
“Eleven, come out here! We’re getting on the phone with O-4, but she has a new name now. It’s Rose.”
My new beta nurse, Samantha, laughs in the background. “Calm down, kiddo! No need to rush.” Her voice comes from a little closer to the door as she tells me, “Take your time. The call’s in half an hour.”
I scramble out of the water, my pulse fluttering wildly. I can’t tell if the scarred omega’s excitement is catching or if I’m just desperate to see if O-4 is okay. Rose. I smile; the name suits the gentle omega.
One foot slips on the tiles, and I catch myself on the edge of the tub with a squeak. It’d be tragic to survive years at an illegal omega center only to slip and drown or split my skull open my first day after rescue.
I towel dry my long red hair and select a silky white blouse and comfortable pink sweatpants with pockets. The wardrobe isn’t quite up to a film star’s requirements, but I can’t fault them for comfort and choice. Sure beats hospital-style gowns.
I take a minute to dab on some lipstick, using the moment to steady my nerves. I shouldn’t be so fluttery, but if O-4 has a proper name, does that mean she also has a pack? Nature wired the craving for a pack to call our own into our omega DNA. I know my alphas are out there somewhere, and I don’t want to spend any more days without them.
O-9 welcomes me with a smile and holds up a deck of Uno cards as I sit down at the table in the common room. “Look what we found in the games cupboard.”
This one little piece of normality makes a lump lodge in my throat, and it only gets thicker when Samantha turns her tablet our way, revealing O-4, now Rose, on the other end of the line. She presses her fingers to her trembling lips and tears swim in her eyes. That sets everyone off, talking and crying. I stare, and then reach toward the screen, forgetting I can’t actually touch her in my desire to connect this tall, beautiful omega with the hesitant woman I knew before.
She looks healthy, like she’s glowing with happiness. The room behind her looks like mine, and I can catch the hem of a blue uniform hovering near her elbow. I tap my chin as I stare at her. Is she truly free?
“Tell us what happened to you?” O-9 asks.
Rose glances away from the phone, then clears her voice. “When I left that illegal center, I was sold into an underground fighting ring.” She sucks her lower lip between her teeth, and then continues. “They had wild alphas trained to fight each other, and the owners triggered my heats in order to make the alphas more aggressive.”
Her story sends chills down my spine. I should’ve warned her how cruel the world is. Should have told her the medical treatments were the reason she couldn’t go into heat. I never understood why they didn’t set the others on a heat schedule and extract as much haze as possible, like they did to me. But it seems more creative markets exist out there for haze than just by the vial.
I shudder.
Rose hiccups and apologizes for not questioning if the center was legitimate, like others had. Then O-18 tells her about the OCB raid and introduces O-20, who cowers behind her while clinging to her hand. I hope he can find healing too. All of us.
The quiver in her voice reminds me of everything I’ve endured. Talking about this is all too raw, too close to home, and I’m in danger of shedding tears, which I refuse to do outside of my heats. Tears are a weakness I can’t afford. Maybe if I had a pack where I could feel utterly safe, things might be different. A family like the one forming around Rose.
I knock my knuckles against the table. “Are we going to play or what? We can fit a game in before my pack comes.” They need to fucking hurry, because I’m losing patience.
Rose chokes with a happy sob. “You’re right, O-11. They’re coming to get you.”
I can forgive her for trying to placate me, because I know all she wants is my happiness. O-9 sneaks one arm around my shoulder and tells Rose she’ll take care of me.
Rose smiles. “If you ever find your way to Darinian, get in touch.”
I wait until the video call disconnects before pushing the black-haired beauty off me. “Who’s taking care of who?” I demand, dealing out cards.
She chuckles. “Well, you take care of me, then.”
I nod and quickly finish dealing, but my mind runs riot in another direction. Rose said if we made our way to the city she lives in, we could visit. That’s truly an option now, isn’t it? I can walk out of here, get a bus pass, go places, do things that were never possible before now. Live a life not made up of lines quoted from movies.
Find people.
O-20 burrows into O-18’s side like he’s making a nest there, and I watch through my lashes as she puts her arm around him, her thumb absently stroking circles on his upper arm. I don’t think she even realizes she’s returning the affection, but something more than two omegas looking out for each other must be growing between them.
I shiver, imagining the implications of two omegas in a pack. Gosh, the scents would be overwhelming, and picture all that slick and nesting. Ugh! You’d need a large pack of healthy alphas to satisfy two omegas in heat.
When I’ve had enough playing cards and can’t bear the omega scents any longer, I say my goodbyes and head to the gym. Samantha, who always seems to be close by, picks up on my withdrawn mood as she falls into pace beside me.
“I’m glad you got to chat with your friend Rose. You know, you don’t have to wait for a pack to give you a name, if you’d rather have one now, like she does.” She casts side glances at me to assess how I’m receiving her topic. “The idea of getting a new name with a new pack is a bit outdated. Not to mention you might want to leave your number behind.”
I hum thoughtfully. “You’re right. I could. I guess it’s the remnant of a fairy tale desire to get a new name with a pack.” It wasn’t Eleven, or ‘Lev, who survived the horrors in the House of Bitches. I chuckle. Red Hawk made it through. “Call me Red, for now, while I think about it.”
“All right, done.”
I dig my hands into my pockets. “But that’s not what I was thinking about.”
“Oh? Care to share?”
“I want to get a job. I’m an actress.”
“Yeah? That sounds fun.” Samantha opens the gym’s frosted glass doors to let me go first. “After you’ve finished your onboarding with us, we can sign you up for some acting classes at Laversham University.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need acting lessons ’cause I’m already an actress.” Guess they won’t be able to understand the immersive acting I’ve been doing for years. You can’t get that sort of instruction in a classroom.
A doubtful look washes across her face, but she hides it quickly. “Hmm, well, I don’t know much about the entertainment industry, but I think you’d need an agency or a manager to help you with contracts and auditions. I’ll look into it and see what I can find.”
“Thanks.” I’ll do my own searching too on one of the Center’s computers and see if our research aligns. After what I’ve been through, I’m not taking anyone’s say-so as gospel.
The possibilities spill through my mind as I set the treadmill for a warmup and step onto the conveyor belt. Around me, omegas of all shapes and sizes lift, row, cycle, and run, and a smile tilts my lips at the normality of it. Time for this omega to sweat.
Heat burns through my body as I push myself to my limit, only stopping when I’m panting and trembling with exertion.
“All good?” Samantha asks, appearing from a side room as I finish up and mop myself down with the towel. It’s like she’s a wizard with teleportation skills.
“Better than good,” I gasp out, feeling the pressure of a stitch in my side. I lost weight during my two months of isolation, and I need to tone up more before I look for my next acting gig. Plus, no one wants to see an actor who runs awkwardly.
But hunting down my acting career requires getting out of these concrete walls.
I use a corner of the towel to scratch the roots of my hair. “Hey, you have, like, a book of alpha scents or something, right?” Someone mentioned it as part of the Center’s onboarding process, like it’s some kind of holy grail for omegas.
The whole reason we’re here, apart from medical checks and restorative support, which I think is a fancy term for psychological evaluations, is to find our scent matches from alphas who’ve submitted to the state’s scent record.
“Oh, yes. Do you want to check it out already?”
“Fuck yes, if it gets me out of here. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.” Would be nice to walk in and pick out my DNA-fated mates, for sure, but I won’t hold my breath.
She throws me a pained smile. “Sounds like you’re in a rush. But the scents aren’t going anywhere.”
“No time like the present, right? At least that’s what Alpha Spy says.”
Samantha checks something on her phone. “Well, the room’s free, so, as you wish,” she says, her grin growing more genuine.
I shoot my index fingers at her. “Oh, I know that reference.”
Samantha chuckles and leads the way.
My breathing settles as we head to a section deeper in the compound than I’ve been before. I balk outside the door, glancing warily around at the small, darkened space.
“It’s safe,” the beta coaxes. “We can leave the door open if that puts you at ease.”
I glance at her. I guess my acting skills are slipping if she’s figured out my trigger points.
Samantha interprets my wary stare as more hesitation. “You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, but no one here will hurt you, Red.”
“Then turn the lights up,” I say stiffly.
“Sure.” Samantha flicks the dimmer on the wall, and suddenly the room looks less like a horror show.
I straighten and breathe deep. I damn well don’t need Samantha thinking I’m a shrinking violet. With a nod to myself, I step into the room. In the middle sits a table with a big glass box that looks like it’s fallen straight out of a pandemic or sci-fi movie—the kind with rubber gloves going inside to put your hands into. Beside the glass box waits a notepad and pen, and a cluster of armchairs preside over the far corner.
“The glass protects the alpha scents from getting omega traces on them,” Samantha says as she leaves the door ajar and waves me toward the plush stool at the center table. “And vice versa.”
“Thank God for that,” I mutter. A weird odor seeps through the hole—a scent I don’t want to get on me. I wrinkle my nose as I plant myself on the stool and lean forward to rest my face against the cutout.
The powerful scents of thousands of alphas hit me all at once, and I gag, spinning away on the stool to dry retch. Lemon and saltwater combine with drains, wet dog, baking bread, gasoline, and alcohol. Nothing could have prepared me for that disgusting cocktail of enhanced alphaness.
“Shit!” I mutter as my saliva waters in warning and my stomach climbs into my throat. “Samantha, I think I’m gonna—” My body rejects the stench in my nose, and I vomit on the floor, tensing with each wave.
Samantha springs into action, a horrified look on her face like I’ve just desecrated their sanctuary. Well, I kinda just did.
“Damn, I’m so sorry,” I mutter when it passes, leaning precariously on the corner of the table and trying not to smear filth everywhere. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and sneer at the holy grail glass box. Why would things ever be simple for the Red Hawk?
Cleaning staff, buckets, mops, and a big carpet cleaning machine all turn up in the next two minutes, and I mumble my apologies to each new person who arrives to deal with my sick.
Samantha runs a hand through her hair. “Well, I’ve never seen that happen before. I take it you have a supersensitive nose?”
I laugh dryly. “That’s putting it mildly.”
She looks from me to the glass box, blinking as she works through the dilemma. “Well, let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can think about what to do after. Maybe if I separate the pages out individually, you might handle it, but that could take months to get through.”
I can’t wait that long for my alphas. The voices in my head are incessant, and two are louder and unhappier than ever. Packs need to find one another.
Heat sluices through me as I dejectedly follow Samantha back to my room.
It’s not until I feel a second flush of warmth bubbling under my skin that I stop moving and pay attention.
The nurse swings about. “You okay?”
I clench my fists. “What’s the date today?”
“February twenty-third.”
The last date I remember was December twenty-first. “How many days between December twenty-first and today?” Looks like I spent Christmas trapped in that damn room.
She gets out her phone and scrolls through a calendar, mouthing the numbers as she counts by sevens. “Sixty-three.”
Fuck me.
A second ache joins the faint stitch in my side, and I grit my teeth together to keep a whimper locked inside. I’m going into heat. Only one certainty exists in my life and that’s my heats—three days long and exactly sixty days after my previous one ends.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Samantha asks, stepping closer and reaching for my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” I snap, jerking away. I needed a few more days to collect myself because I don’t have a battle plan. “Shower. I need to shower,” I grind out, striding for my room. A freezing cold shower might keep the heat at bay for a few more hours and buy me some time.
“You seem really upset, Red. If you tell me what’s going on, I can help.”
“No one can fucking help,” I hiss, speeding up. The last thing I need is to leak slick in a hallway. The last time I did that, well—
Panic claws around my lungs as the memories crowd in, stealing my oxygen.
“Red?” Samantha’s voice deepens with concern as we reach my room, but it can’t penetrate the stony barrier forming in my body—the one that locks me out of control.
I spin around in my doorway. Can I trust these people, or are they lying through their teeth waiting for this moment to prey on me? I guess I’m about to find out.
“I’m going into heat, Samantha.”