Pack Dutton: Part 1: A Dark

Omegaverse Novel Hannah Mcbride

Writing As Megan Cain
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PACK DUTTON
 PART 1

MEGAN CAIN
Copyright © 2024 by Hannah McBride writing as Megan Cain

PACK DUTTON: PART 1

A Dark Omegaverse Novel

Original Publication Date: March 1, 2024

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this
material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or
by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission.
The publication’s use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved.

Cover Credit: Elle Christensen

Edited by: Michelle Fewer
Proofreading by: Ricarda Berger
 CONTENTS
Content Warnings
Intro to Omegaverse
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Newsletter
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Want more?
For Lori
 CONTENT WARNINGS

PACK DUTTON: PART 1 is a dark omegaverse novel and includes the following content that may be offensive or triggering to
some readers. Please know your limits and read responsibly.

-sexual assault (on page and off; male and female)

-physical abuse (on page and off)
-trauma
-branding
-group sex
-why choose/reverse harem (including MM, FM, MMF)
-kidnapping
-cults
-verbal abuse
-emotional abuse
 INTRO TO OMEGAVERSE

If you’re new to the term omegaverse, then welcome to one of my favorite genres, but it does vary from author to author. Let me
give you some basics:
Humanity is divided into 3 designations: alpha, beta, and omega. While these designations have a lot of animalistic traits,
they are not shifters. The world as a whole is the same as the one we live in, so you will see a lot of real-world references.

Alphas: Predominantly male (female alphas exist but are rare); they are much more aggressive and dominant. They
tend to fall into leadership roles in society. They growl, snarl, and purr (purr is to comfort a stressed omega).
Alphas also can go into rut or go feral where they lose control.

Betas: Male and female; these are your “average” humans. They make up the bulk of society and have a more
muted scent. They do not have ruts or heats.

Omegas: Predominantly female (males exist but are rare); they are submissive and influenced by alphas. They also
go through heat cycles, which is when they’re fertile. Omegas also build nests (made of up fuzzy blankets and
pillows and scents that make them feel safe). Omegas can purr for their alphas (to soothe), and then also
whine/whimper when they’re distressed.

A few more things to note:

Alpha Knot: a gland at the base of an alpha penis that swells to lock inside a female omega to increase the
likelihood of pregnancy
Slick: a fluid omegas produce when aroused
Scent/Perfume: every person (alpha, beta, and omega) has a specific scent, and some scents are more compatible
with others (i.e. scent match). Scents increase/alter when emotions are heightened.
Omega physiology: Female omega lady bits are much more able to stretch to accommodate an alpha knot; omegas
also tend to heal faster
Packs: alphas, betas, and omegas form packs which are family units. Pack size varies, and is made up of any
combination of alpha/beta/omega.
Rut: When an alpha becomes aggressively aroused; can lead to extremely dominant behaviors
 1

Hazel

THE SOUND OF FLESH SLAPPING FLESH, PUNCTUATED WITH THE OCCASIONAL MOAN , MADE ME NAUSEATED . IF THAT WASN ’ T
enough, the stench of bloated pheromones and cum was enough to make me throw up. But the absolute worst part of this entire
shitshow was the feel of the body hard under mine.
A layer of thin silk was all that kept the alpha beneath me from rutting into me. The hard ridge of his cock, combined with
the thick swell of his knot, rubbed the sensitive flesh between my legs.
Clenching my teeth, I looked away and tried to focus on anything else. The room was a large rectangle with crude wooden
plank walls and flooring. They were the same shade of pale pine, but instead of coming across as rustic, it looked dirty and
haphazard. The rows of metal folding chairs used for meetings had been stacked in careless heaps around the room to make
space for the divine merging.
Divine merging my ass.
It was a sick display of power and violence. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Watch them, omega,” the rough voice behind me commanded, infusing enough alpha bark that I had no choice but to stare
at the spectacle in front of me from my seat on his lap. The command in his words was an unbreakable order, forcing me to
keep my eyes on the seven people writhing around and fucking like the world was about to end. His hands tightened to a
bruising grip on my hips as he held my splayed legs open.
A sharp cry sliced through the air, and my stomach bottomed out as my eyes dropped to the eighth person in the orgy. The
one who clearly didn’t want to be there. Honestly, of the four women that were present, I wasn’t sure any of them wanted to be,
but the blue lotus tea they’d consumed an hour or so ago was enough to make a broom horny.
Apparently the youngest and smallest woman hadn’t drank enough, because she looked entirely too aware of what was
going on.
And she was hating every single second of it.
I watched her face screw up in pain again as the alpha driving his hips into her roared his pleasure. He wasn’t even trying
to be gentle. The woman was a small beta, one I’d seen lurking around the fringes over the last four years.
Four years.
How in the world had I been here for four years?
A hand crept toward the inside of my thigh, stroking intimately. His nose grazed the side of my neck, and my muscles locked
up as he nipped at the pulse point of my throat. I wasn’t entirely sure how mating bonds worked, but I knew it involved teeth
breaking skin. The brief pressure of his canines against my throat was a promise and a threat.
“Soon you will bear my mark,” he murmured, the hand on my thigh cupping between my legs and squeezing my bare pussy
with possession. Like he owned me and had the right to touch my body any way he wanted.
Fucking asshole.
The shapeless muslin dress I usually wore had been stripped from me before the merging began. I could still see the way
the High Alpha’s pale blue eyes had heated as he ripped away the only thing I had to hide myself behind.
 Tears blurred my vision, the violation and debauchery merely one more moment in the hellscape that made up my life.
“You will bear my heirs and they will lead us into a new age of enlightenment,” he went on, pushing the blunt tip of a finger
inside of me. “But first, you need to be cleansed. Baptized in the fiery inferno of your first heat.”
A garbled, choked noise ripped from my throat as he forced a second finger inside my unwilling body.
Except, no, my body wasn’t unwilling. Even now, slick was trickling from my pussy, readying my body for sex.
Biology was a bitch, and I was the punchline.
As an omega, my body was hard-wired for sex. Even if my brain was currently screaming it didn’t want this, my body
would always be ruled by hormones, pheromones, and alphas.
The High Alpha was the alpha. The one in control of everything and everyone. And he’d declared years ago that I was the
omega destined to give him the sons who would lead society into a new era. Into a world where alphas were revered as the
gods they were, omegas knew their rightful place, and betas worked to support their betters.
I still didn’t understand why people followed his absolute horseshit logic, but I hadn’t exactly had a choice about joining
this damn cult. And I sure as hell didn’t have a way out.
Trust me, I’d tried.
What omega—no, what human being—would want to be held captive solely because their body was physically capable of
taking an alpha knot?
Frustrated tears pricked the backs of my eyes, burning even as I furiously blinked them away.
I wouldn’t cry in front of these people again. I’d given them enough of the satisfaction of my tears to last a dozen lifetimes.
His fingers curled inside my body as his thumb pressed against my clit a little too hard. The sensation was too rough and all
wrong. I smothered the cry that tried to wrench free.
I could be soundless. Lifeless. I would endure this the way I’d endured everything else.
His fingers left my body and he lifted them to his mouth, sucking them between his lips with an appreciative growl.
“You taste divine, omega,” he rasped, rolling his hips under me. His hard cock jabbed insistently against the small of my
back.
My legs opened a bit wider of their own accord, my body and mind at impossible odds.
No, no, no. Close dammit!
But the alpha behind me chuckled. “You want me, don’t you? Want my cock, my knot stretching out your tight little cunt until
it rips apart at the seams?”
Okay, not just no, but hell no. What woman would literally want her pussy split open? Did a pussy even have seams? I
didn’t remember that from mandatory health class in high school.
I knew the basics about how omegas and alphas worked. I’d learned about their anatomies in health class my freshman year
of high school. About how alphas had a knot at the base of their cocks that swelled to lock inside an omega’s body thanks to
super elastic vaginal walls and copious amounts of slick omegas produced as lubricant. I knew they relied on scent and senses
to guide them to a perfect mate or pack.
But I also knew that I’d spent the first seventeen years of my life believing I was a regular old beta. Only freak genetics
changed that fact of life, but it had been years without my body going into heat, and, unfortunately for the High Alpha, I
wouldn’t be a full omega until that particular gift of biology happened. A heat signaled my body was ready for breeding, and
therefore I would be ready to marry the High Alpha and bear his heirs.
But as the years ticked by and my body didn’t show a single sign of heat, he began to grow desperate.
Which was why he’d started these weekly orgies where the other alphas of the group—known as Shepherds—selected
members of the flock to sleep with. Omegas were driven by biology, and apparently there had been studies that showed an
omega’s heat could be triggered if they were saturated by sex pheromones.
It wasn’t like I had access to things like a phone or computer to fact check that info, but it was what the High Alpha had
declared was needed to “bring forth my time.”
I threw up a little in my mouth, too, when I first heard it put that way.
This was the seventh week of orgies, and I was so over it. Truth was, they did affect me; for days after I would be sick. The
oversaturation of scents and sounds made my emotions and impulses go haywire. Sometimes that meant I’d throw up or have a
migraine. Sometimes both.
There was a part of my omega side that was curious about sex and alphas, but none of these alphas smelled right. None of
them felt right. I vaguely remembered my health teacher prattling on about omegas needing to feel safe with an alpha, and I felt
anything but safe in this place.
Even now, one of the Shepherds was fucking a woman while staring at my exposed pussy. When he caught my gaze, he
licked his lips and slammed his hips harder into his partner. His nostrils flared as he tried to inhale my scent.
The men—all alphas—didn’t need the tea to perform. They were ready, willing, and more than able. In fact, I had a feeling
as I watched a couple of them that they were disappointed their partners didn’t put up more of a fight.
Humiliation scorched my cheeks crimson as the Shepherd let out a throaty growl, his eyes fixed between my legs.
 “Bad omega,” the High Alpha snarled in my ear a second before reaching between my legs and pinching my clit with his
jagged nails.
I damn near jerked off his lap as a cry ripped from my lips. This wasn’t pleasure, it was sheer pain. Tears instantly formed
and spilled over, my heart pounding as he refused to let up. The muscles of his forearm were taut and corded as he used all his
force to squeeze the tiny nub.
Pain ricocheted from between my legs and through my limbs. My stomach lurched, and I knew I was going to be sick.
“Do not tempt my Shepherds,” the High Alpha added, finally releasing my clit.
It throbbed and my shoulders fell as a sob shook my frame. So much for not crying. But once the first tears had fallen, it
was like a dam collapsing.
A thin, reedy sound scraped its way out of my throat. I wasn’t sure what that noise was, or why I sometimes made it when I
was super upset, but the High Alpha only laughed.
“Don’t think to sway me with your whine,” he informed me, inserting two fingers back inside my pussy like there was
nothing wrong. His other hand lifted to pluck at one of my nipples, and I flinched, expecting pain.
“There, there,” he cooed, licking my tears from my cheek. “I know you are just a simple omega, driven by your need for a
knot. I will train you, mate. You will learn that your body is for your master’s pleasure alone.” He leisurely pumped his fingers
into me, and after a few moments, brushed against my abused clit.
Fear and pain licked up my spine, curling around my chest and squeezing.
“No,” I moaned, the word breaking free before I could censor it.
Shockingly, he stopped immediately. But I knew it wasn’t because he was actually going to give me a pass.
“What did you say?” His brittle tone was matched by the heady scent of mildew and moss. It turned acrid as his mood
shifted, the scent potent enough to make some of the Shepherds pause mid-fuck.
I clamped my lips together. Apologizing was useless. I knew that. He’d be just as pissed off at my attempts at trying to calm
him down. Sometimes more so. I’d learned that over the years as my omega surfaced more and more.
There was a bone-deep need to please an upset alpha. Any upset, irate, or furious alpha. It was like laying on a bed of
nails. My skin ached and crawled, my stomach twisted into tangles knowing things were wrong.
I’d made the mistake before of trying to apologize or offer comfort, it didn't end well.
Silence was my only option.
“I have been too easy on you, omega,” he went on, his hands going to my hips and easing me off his lap until I was standing.
“Shepherd Hayden told me I was being too gentle with you. That your omega nature demanded I provide more structure.”
My gaze instantly went to Shepherd Hayden, the one who had been raping the tiny woman who hadn’t drank enough blue
lotus tea. He was sadistic, cruel, and the High Alpha’s younger brother.
“I shall give you exactly what you need,” the High Alpha told me, standing and turning to face me. His expression
hardened. “Get on the dais.”
I turned and looked at the stone table behind me, a sense of dread turning my blood into ice. My breaths came in rapid pants
as I took a step away from the raised platform it sat on.
Nothing good ever happened on the dais. It was stained with blood from people who had been tied to it and whipped. Most
recently, the blood of a beta woman who had allegedly had an affair with another beta. An affair with no proof other than her
abusive husband saying he was certain she had defiled herself with another. She had been tied down and repeatedly assaulted
by the Shepherds to teach her a lesson. Disobedient children were sometimes chained to it without food or water so they
learned to obey their parents.
The High Alpha lunged forward, grabbing me by the throat and squeezing. “Get on the dais now, omega.” He infused the
words with an alpha bark, and I scrambled away from him. I was up on the stone table before my body fully knew what it was
doing.
An alpha bark was just another way being an omega sucked. They barked and we had to obey. I wasn’t sure what part of an
omega brain had been hardwired to instantly react to an alpha’s bark, but there was no fighting it.
I sat on the edge of the table, my body barely complying with the order as I trembled from head to toe.
The High Alpha moved closer. “Lay down.” Another bark and my back was flat on the table.
“Do not move.” No bark this time, but I knew better than to even blink.
The High Alpha motioned toward the Shepherds, and I heard them rising to move forward.
I closed my eyes, sure this was it. For all the High Alpha’s decrees that my virgin body remain untouched for him, I knew
this was when they’d rape me.
“Lift your arms,” the High Alpha said, his tone softer now, almost conversational.
My arms shook violently as I stretched them up over my head. I’d no sooner laced my fingers together than someone
grabbed my wrists and slammed them onto the stone. My back arched as my shoulders screamed in protest, but I bit the inside
of my cheek until I tasted blood rather than cry out.
Cold chains wrapped around my wrists, anchoring me to the slab.
 Two sets of hands grabbed my ankles and wrenched my legs apart. Chains once again immobilized me. Cool air hit my bare
pussy lips, and I shut my eyes as tears started to fall again.
Not like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
“Bring me the device,” the High Alpha ordered.
Wait. Device?
I could hear someone moving away. Several long minutes of silence passed, the quiet only making my panic coil tighter.
Each second was a lifetime of agony. I tried to retreat into my mind, letting myself go back to a place that only existed in my
dreams.
The place where my parents were alive and my best friend lived next door. Calla and I were born weeks apart and were
inseparable. She’d grown up with a big pack for a family. Her mom was an omega with three mates, and she’d had three sons
—all alphas—before Calla, her only daughter, was born. Calla was an omega.
Probably mated off to her own pack now.
Calla’d had the life every omega wanted; a loving family full of support and loyalty. Her three alpha fathers adored their
omega wife and daughter. Growing up next door to the Dutton family had been perfect.
Our families had always been super close, and losing them had been almost as bad as losing my parents. They’d tried
everything to get Uncle Henry to give them custody of me, but he’d adamantly refused.
Now I knew it was because he’d given all my family’s money to the APA. He was one of their Elite betas, an upper tier that
policed the rest of the beta population and seemed to firmly believe alphas were the superior race. All of the betas here treated
the alphas—the High Alpha and Shepherds—like they were gods. They believed society had forgotten the true hierarchy of
social order, and it needed to be restored for the world to find peace.
It was bullshit.
The first time I’d said as much to Uncle Henry, he’d beaten me until I couldn’t chew solid food for ten days.
The Alpha Protection Alliance operated with the sole mission of restoring alphas to their glory. Betas were to support
alphas in all ways—from finance to farming. And omegas? Well omegas were there to give alphas more alphas. Our vaginas
and uteruses were currency.
The problem was, the OS monitored all omegas since there weren’t a lot of us. Packs often had to be approved to marry
and mate an omega. Omegas were, more often than not, treated like princesses and spoiled beyond belief.
The Omega Services would have never okayed an omega to the High Alpha or the Shepherds. Not that they were a pack.
Packs had formed almost as a necessity as omegas became rarer. It was easier for three men to share an omega than for them to
individually try to pull her focus to just one.
And the High Alpha, as well as everyone he led, believed that true alphas didn’t share their toys.
That’s why I was fucked the second my designation came through.
As far as the world was concerned, I was just another beta—the most common designation. We weren’t monitored or
protected. We were grains of sand on a beach. And in a perfect world, the second my designation hit, I would’ve been
registered.
I wasn’t entirely sure of the protocols, but omegas were given classes to help them learn how to handle their new emotions
and traits. If you were wealthy enough—like Calla had been—your parents could afford private sessions with an OS certified
instructor at home. If you couldn’t afford that, there were private schools omegas could enroll in for a year. The poorest
omegas were sent to OS boarding schools.
I’d gotten nothing.
Not even a freaking manual to explain why I could suddenly smell things that I hadn’t smelled before and wanted to do
weird shit like touch every fabric I saw to see how soft it was. I’d even spent an afternoon in the forest, collecting the softest
leaves I could find and bringing them back to my cabin like a squirrel hoarding their nuts for winter.
All I knew was being an omega sucked, and I would’ve given anything to just be my boring beta self again.
Footsteps sounded on the boards, and I gasped as I zeroed back in on the present.
Naked.
Chained to a table.
My pussy—that the High Alpha insisted be smooth and bare at all times—exposed to anyone who wanted a look.
“Thank you, brother,” the High Alpha spoke from near my hips.
It took everything not to open my eyes and look at him to see what fresh hell they’d conjured this time.
A hand landed on my leg and I jerked in surprise.
“Easy, omega,” the High Alpha chuckled. A few of the Shepherds laughed as well, making me realize they surrounded me
on all sides.
The High Alpha kept speaking. “It was my belief that I had to awaken your omega nature gently, but I now believe you
require a firmer hand, my young bride. Forgive your mate his transgressions.”
There was a pause and I realized I was supposed to say something. To forgive this monster for… Honestly I wasn’t sure for
what.
I waited too long to speak, and the High Alpha’s heavy sigh filled the space.
“I shall fail you no longer, omega, and, by the grace of all the alphas before me, your body will be prepared for its
purification soon.”
As my mind whirled with what that could possibly mean, I felt something wrap across my torso, pinning my hips down.
Bile filled my mouth, and I swallowed it down as my pulse fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird.
The strap was pulled tight, biting into my skin enough that I knew it would bruise.
“Shepherd Hayden,” the High Alpha murmured. “It’s time.”
There was an audible click and then a distinct buzzing sound hit my ears. I was trying to place the sound when something
pressed down against my clit. It vibrated in a never ending hum against my already throbbing flesh. I tried to jerk away from
the sensation, but there was nowhere to go.
I was utterly helpless as I thrashed as much as I could, the belt across my hips and the chains around my ankles and wrists
digging into my skin. There was no escaping the pleasure so sharp, so potent, that it turned to pain. My insides coiled,
tightening so fast I forgot to breathe. It only took a second for my orgasm to crash over me like a tidal wave, but it didn’t end.
I screamed, unable to do anything else but feel the insistent press of the vibrator against my pussy, ramping me up into
another brutal orgasm. That one, too, was ripped from my body. I could feel slick pouring from my slit, soaking my ass as my
pussy spasmed around nothing.
Fuck, this actually hurt.
I’d had orgasms before. When I was a teenager and fooling around with my high school boyfriend. A few at my own hand
before I’d come to the APA compound. And in the last few weeks, the High Alpha had managed to coerce a few from me. I
always hated myself the next day for letting it happen.
But none of those times had been like this. This was cruel, brutal. My body didn’t know what to do or how to get away
from the never-ending barrage of sensations. My clit felt like it was going to break off, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Was this
what having a seizure felt like? Being at a total loss of control?
“Stop! Please, stop!” I cried.
But he didn’t. He held the vibrator against my body, tearing orgasm after orgasm from me until I lost count. Until my entire
body shook and my chest seized. It never stopped until my body finally gave out, and I dropped into darkness.
 2

Hazel

GENTLE HANDS TUCKED A THIN BLANKET AROUND MY SHOULDERS , PULLING ME FROM THE DARKEST PART OF MY MIND WITH A
gasp. I jack-knifed upright, looking around wildly. The place between my legs was achy and swollen.
“Hazel?” A trembling voice spoke my name, reminding me that I actually had one of those.
When my designation hit, I simply became “the omega.” Like my designation was all the identity I needed.
But once upon a time, I’d had a name.
Hazel Jones.
I turned and looked at the face of the boy kneeling beside my bed, terror in his wide blue eyes. “Hazel… I don’t know what
to do.” His dark hair fell around his face in loose waves, hiding the beautiful angles of his nearly perfectly symmetrical face.
“You’re bleeding…” He started to tremble. His usual cinnamon apple scent was now closer to burnt apple pie, stress rolling
off him in palpable waves.
“I’ll be okay, Logan,” I managed to rasp out, my throat raw from screaming.
Logan looked anything but convinced. He looked terrified and uncertain, but that was nothing new. We both lived in a
constant state of fear and apprehension because our omega sides were never able to relax.
Male omegas were like a unicorn. They were extremely rare, but unlike the joy people usually felt when they thought of
unicorns, male omegas were seen as utterly useless. Omegas were rare in general, but only women could bear children. Male
omegas were infertile unless paired with an alpha female. Finding one of those was like looking for a needle in a haystack the
size of the Empire State Building.
So when a male omega was found, they were looked at as a waste of omega genetics. Good for nothing except sex, which
was why most ended up in brothels or as escorts.
Logan had shown up nearly a year earlier. He was two years younger than I was and had aged out of a state run facility for
omegas the day he’d turned eighteen. OS tended to focus their resources on omegas who would help boost the population, so
the rare male omega was still registered and given training, but it was all a joke.
His instructors had informed him that they knew of a pack looking for a male omega. He’d been told that they had no desire
for children and were simply looking for an omega to complete their pack.
It was a lie.
A nine hour drive later and Logan was delivered to the house of someone who turned him over to the APA.
When I’d first presented as an omega, I’d heard there was a fight between the High Alpha and Shepherds over him being
given the only omega. While the Shepherds followed their High Alpha ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it turned out that
when an omega was on the line, alphas got a little crazy.
To appease them, Logan had been brought in. Or, rather, bought.
Now he was just a toy for the Shepherds to play with when they needed to rut.
But at least we had each other.
“Hazel, this is bad,” he told me, his aquamarine eyes flashing with fear.
 I swallowed, my throat dry. “I-It’ll be okay. Promise.” I reached out a hand for him, flinching when I felt the muscles in my
shoulders pull.
Logan hesitantly laced his fingers with mine, taking care not to touch the raw, scabbed up areas of my wrist.
Sighing, he leaned a shoulder against the edge of my bed from where he sat on the floor. “We’re out of water.”
I gave a slow nod, not surprised. My gaze swept the one-room cabin that had been my home for the last three years.
Before I’d emerged, I’d been in the beta barracks with the other single women. It was a long wood cabin with a single
fireplace at one end and dozens of bunkbeds lining the space. Even still, as the newest person there, I’d only been given a
plastic mat since all the actual beds were taken.
As soon as my designation hit, I got upgraded to my very own cabin. The High Alpha became paranoid about my
whereabouts. And, yeah, okay, it didn’t exactly help my cause that I’d tried running away twice.
So now I got my own cabin, which I shared with Logan. The omega cabin.
I was given an actual bed—a lumpy mattress on a metal frame that squeaked if I breathed wrong. Logan was given a
sleeping bag. The locks and bolts that only a few had keys to kept me prisoner. Bars had been crudely welded to the two
windows the space had. It was drafty, with gaping spaces between a few of the rough hewn plank walls, and I was usually
freezing.
We were usually freezing. Logan and I often shared my bed, cuddling together for warmth.
Allegedly, unmated omegas didn’t get along with each other. There was supposed to be tension and catty shit, but that was
never the case with us. Logan was like the sibling I’d always wanted, and I felt protective as hell over him.
And it absolutely gutted me that I couldn’t save him.
Yes, tonight he’d seen me delivered to our cabin, covered in bruises and blood, but I’d seen him dropped into the room
much the same way. We took care of each other, but we didn’t ask questions. Not anymore.
The first time Logan had been brought back after a night with some of the Shepherds, I’d tried getting him to talk to me.
He’d been covered in blood and welts, his eyes nearly swollen shut from crying. He’d sobbed louder when I’d tried to touch
him, and flat out shut down when I’d asked what had happened.
Since then, we had an unspoken rule: we’d always support each other, but we wouldn’t ask questions.
Lately, though, I’d seen a shift amongst the High Alpha and Shepherds. The High Alpha had noticed how close I was to
Logan, and wasn’t above using Logan to get me to cooperate.
If he wanted me to sit on his lap at dinner, all he needed to do was casually ask how Logan was and my ass was exactly
where he wanted.
I didn’t have a family anymore, except Logan. And for him? I’d go to the ends of the freaking world.
I tried to shift my body, but it locked up when pain spiked between my legs. I gritted my teeth, swallowing a moan.
“What?” Ever observing, Logan didn’t miss much. “What can I do?”
“Nothing,” I managed. “But if you’re cold⁠—”
“I’ll sleep on my bed tonight,” he cut me off, his azure gaze darting to one of the windows where the sun was starting to
disappear behind the mountain.
I didn’t have the energy to fight him on where he slept.
“Haze?” His soft whisper cut through the darkness descending in the room.
“Hmmm?” It hurt to move, so I laid as still as possible on my side. My pussy throbbed with each beat of my heart, and I
wasn’t sure if the wetness between my legs was slick or blood. Maybe both.
Logan hesitated. “You smell different.”
My eyes were already drifting closed, my body exhausted. “I smell like them?”
“No. Like you, but more.” He sounded so uncertain.
My heart twisted, hating that my pain hurt him. “It’ll be fine.”
But when the first cramp ripped me out of a deep sleep hours later, I knew I was wrong.
By morning, the High Alpha had gotten exactly what he wanted.
I was in heat.
 3

Hazel

F LAMES LICKED BENEATH MY SKIN , SCORCHING ME FROM THE INSIDE OUT UNTIL I WAS NOTHING BUT ASH AND NEED . A KEENING
sound scraped up my throat as I tried to wrap my arms around my waist, but there was no use. I was pinned to the bed, my arms
stretched painfully above my head where they were handcuffed to the crude metal bars of the headboard. My ankles were
similarly chained to the matching footboard, and every flinch of my limbs made the metal-on-metal scrape together in a way
that set my teeth on edge.
It was early March and I should’ve been a block of ice since the night air dipped below freezing. But usually Logan was
here with me.
My gaze jerked to the small pallet bed shoved into the corner.
Logan.
I whimpered, wondering where they’d taken my only friend in this hellhole. Logan was all I had left. He was so sweet and
innocent in so many ways. The idea that he was with the Shepherds…
I’d seen the utter terror in his eyes as Shepherd Hayden had come to collect him. But I’d been in too much pain to put up
much of a fight. As soon as they’d left, another cramp had sent me to my knees. Slick dripped from my aching pussy, and
without thinking, I’d pushed my hand between my legs.
The High Alpha had come in to see me and started shouting when he caught me riding my fingers. Within minutes, a pair of
beta guards came in and chained me to the bed so I couldn’t get any sort of relief.
“You will be cleansed in the fire of your heat,” he’d vowed to me before hurrying away.
I wasn’t sure how much cleansing was happening; right now I didn’t think I could survive this much longer.
My stomach cramped viciously then, the need scooping out my insides and leaving me hollow and brittle, yanking me out of
my thoughts. My worry for my friend, my hatred of this place, and the bone weary desperation to escape paled in comparison to
the pain ripping my womb apart.
“Please,” I whispered, not sure who I was begging for relief.
Not that any would come.
I was just as alone as I’d been since they’d chained me up in here… How long ago?
Seconds.
Minutes.
Hours.
Days.
I’d lost track of time since the first aching waves hit, signaling the start of my heat cycle. I’d known what would come next
—the burning fevers, the desperate need, the brutal cramps—but what I thought I could handle was nothing like what I’d
expected.
My body was on the verge of shattering, and not in the good way.
I couldn’t take much more of this.
 God, how long had I been like this? How much more could my body take before I literally caught on fire or my insides
twisted up into knots that could never be fixed?
Knots. Ha. If I could twist a knot up inside myself, that might make this base urge diminish. All I needed was an alpha’s
knot to lock into my body, to catapult me into orgasm after orgasm as his cock pumped as much cum into my womb as possible.
Only that special spunk cocktail would ease the cramps and give me relief.
Omega biology was a motherfucking bitch.
How else could I explain going from vowing off orgasms ever again after the vibrator from hell to wishing someone would
use it on me again? Worse yet, I hated that if an alpha—any alpha—walked into the room right now, I would probably beg him
to knot me. To fill me with his seed again and again and again.
In vain, I tried pulling my legs up, wanting to curl into a ball and weather the last of the storm, but I couldn’t. The best I
could manage was wiggling my legs a few centimeters and flinching against the rough sheets twisted beneath me, soaked in
sweat and slick that made the room smell thick and cloying.
My usual sweet perfume of cake batter and cocoa was nauseating. It saturated the room, burnt sugar and bitter chocolate
clinging to everything from the wooden planks of the walls and floor to the threadbare fabric covering the old, mildewy
mattress under me.
The sun streamed in through the uncovered windows, the light making my eyes ache and water as I tried to screw my lids
shut and block out the offensive brightness.
The scrape of the lock on the door clicking open set my teeth on edge. My head lolled to the right to see the door being
pushed open and two men stepping inside, their noses instantly wrinkling at the stench.
“Fuck me,” the smaller of the two hissed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and nose, his beady black eyes raking over
my form with disgust. It took me a second to place him through the haze of my heat. Jordan.
The larger of the two sighed and shook his dark head. “She’s almost done.” His voice was tight, and I dragged my gaze up
his muscular frame until I met his green eyes. A muscle in his jaw thrummed, and I got the distinct feeling he was pissed.
Another moan scratched out of my throat, and I hated myself for letting it slip.
Jordan laughed. “I think she wants you, Morris.”
I turned my head away, humiliation crushing my insides.
I blamed my damned heat.
Except I’d been sort of harboring a crush on Morris for two weeks now. Ever since he’d been assigned to my guard
rotation by the High Alpha. While he never crossed a line, he was one of the few people to treat me like an actual human being.
Like I was more than just my omega designation or another wife for the High Alpha.
Other than Logan, he was the only one who occasionally slipped and used my real name.
It was pathetic how little it took for me to form a crush. One man, who was technically my jailer, treated me with a
modicum of respect, combining it with a nice smile, and my inner omega was doing pirouettes and preening like a peacock,
hoping for a flash of a smile or a word of praise.
Okay, fine, he was also stupid gorgeous with dark chestnut brown hair, dark green eyes, and muscles upon muscles.
Seriously, the man looked more alpha than half the alphas here, and he was a beta.
“How can you tell the bitch is close to finished?” Jordan spoke about me as if I wasn’t a person. As if I was just another
piece of used, battered furniture in the forgotten room.
Morris jerked his chin in my direction, his jaw tight even as his gaze was clinical. “Her skin isn’t as flushed, so her heat is
receding. She’s also aware that we’re here. Aren’t you, Hazel?” His voice softened as he spoke my name.
My jaw clenched, but another noise rattled in my raw throat. My name on his full lips was too much. I couldn’t stop from
imagining what it would sound like whispered against my skin as he⁠—
A fresh gush of slick seeped out of me, making the already pungent room damn near unbearable.
Fucking hell, Hazel, I seethed to myself. I hated these damn omega hormones. It wasn’t fair that my entire life had been
reduced to a single thing because I’d presented as an omega.
Jordan laughed, the caustic sound grating my nerves. “I told you—her pussy’s dripping.” He leered at me and cupped his
crotch. “Want some of this, omega? Greedy little cumslut. Practically begging for my cock.”
“Fuck. You.” I barely managed to grit the words out around my clenched teeth.
Black eyes blazing, Jordan crossed the room and slapped the inside of my thigh. The biting flash of pain ricocheted through
me, my back arching off the bed as I wantonly chased his touch. Any touch. My core clenched with aching emptiness, more
slick pooling beneath me.
Scoffing, he looked down at me, and I could only imagine what he saw. The way my broken body was secured spread-
eagle to the bed in nothing more than a thin nightgown, probably see-through now after days of sweating through it. I could feel
it had bunched around my waist, baring my lower half to their gazes.
I hated the hungry, depraved look in his eyes, but not nearly as much as I hated myself for wanting his touch.
Fucking omega biology.
 The only thing I craved right now was touch, sex. Preferably the knot of an alpha to calm the vicious clenching of my
womb. But in this state? My body would settle for the lecherous abuse of this damned beta.
I hated that I’d been reduced to nothing but primal need and want.
“Omega bitch,” Jordan muttered at me, even as he reached for me again. “I wonder if she tastes as good as she smells. They
say omega slick is like drinking the sweetest nectar.”
“Stop.” Morris’s voice cracked through the space, his own beta tone nowhere close to an alpha bark, but no less effective
in the moment. It was enough to make me freeze. But more importantly, it made Jordan scowl and step back.
“She’s not ours to touch… or correct,” Morris reminded him, his tone arctic as his green eyes flashed.
This was why I was here, chained to the damn bed.
I was being trained. Because what better way to bitch-slap an omega into place than by driving her absolutely feral with
need and withholding the thing she needed more than oxygen to survive?
I’d known for years now that I was destined to be the fifth wife of the High Alpha. His first omega bride.
But first I had to be trained. Broken.
Cleansed by the fire of my heat.
Reminded that the whims of my body would only be met by the grace of my alpha. I’d lost track of how many times the
High Alpha had whispered those phrases to me. Like they were a goddamned mantra.
I looked at Morris. “H-how l-l-long?”
Something passed over his face, but he schooled his expression a second later. “It’s been three days since it began.”
My brain melted as his words sank in.
Three days of unrelenting fevers and crying.
My body trembled with exhaustion and need, and I was so disoriented I was actually hoping one of these two betas would
relieve any of the pressure threatening to rip my insides apart.
In some ways it felt like no time had passed, but in another, it was like an eternity. There was no telling how long it would
last. A normal omega heat cycle lasted five days. But I wasn’t a normal omega.
I couldn’t do this for two more days.
Lucid moments like this were slowly killing me.
Having my body crave attention and sex from men I hated was a special kind of torture. The omega side of me just wanted
sex—preferably a knot, but at this point, any cock would suffice. But my brain knew that it was all hormones and biological
urges. At the end of the day, I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of this. Trying to reconcile the mental and physical needs of
my own body was damn exhausting.
Movement at the door caught my attention and my entire body went rigid, locking up tight at the sight of the High Alpha
filling the open doorway. His gray hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. Dressed in black pants and a black t-shirt that
stretched over his rounded chest and stomach, his cold brown eyes heated when they landed on me. A low growl rumbled from
his chest, the sound reverberating through my bones.
I squeezed my eyes shut, hating myself for the way a new gush of slick seeped from between my legs.
“High Alpha,” Jordan stammered, the appropriate amount of deference and awe to our leader filling his tone. “She’s not yet
finished her heat.”
“I can smell that,” the High Alpha remarked, his tone thick with desire. The stench of rotting leaves and old gym socks
made my nose wrinkle and my stomach roil even as I tried lifting my hips. “But I had to see her.”
Morris shifted in front of the door, looking like he was about to physically block the leader of the commune from entering
the space. “But, sir, you told us to keep you away from her. To aid you in resisting the temptation of your nature.”
“Do you see me mounting her like a mindless, rutting fool?” The High Alpha’s voice, rife with authority, whipped through
the space at the beta who dared question him, even if he’d given previous instructions to his inner circle of beta guards to keep
him away from me.
My first heat was to help us both, apparently. To keep us pure before the marriage ceremony.
I got to endure the hell of my first heat with zero relief to teach me that only the High Alpha could save me from the base
urges of my body. My next heat, he would claim me, but only if I first proved my devotion to him by surviving a heat without
any assistance.
Yeah.
It sounded like utter bullshit to me, too.
Meanwhile, the High Alpha was having a non-stop orgy with his four beta wives next door, using hits of my pheromones as
heroin to fuel their sex games. He claimed it was to take off the edge of being unable to claim me for himself, but it was a task
an ancient god had set before him. A burden he would bear for the good of our people.
His people, not mine.
My life hadn’t always been like this. The first seventeen years were pretty incredible. I had an amazing set of parents who
loved and doted on me, a ride or die bestie, and I was one of the more popular girls in school. I had solid grades, and I’d
already secured a scholarship to my first choice university.
But that all changed the night my parents were killed in a car accident two months before my eighteenth birthday.
After their deaths, my only living relative, my mom’s half-brother, came to claim me before the government could intervene
and send me into foster care for the last two months of my childhood.
My best friend’s parents had even petitioned the courts to let me stay with them and finish out my senior year. Calla’s
parents were like my own parents—I’d known them, and Calla’s brothers, since I was little. We lived next door to each other,
and our families were practically a pack.
Ultimately, the court ruled that Uncle Henry had more of a right to me since he was biologically related. Within a day of
getting custody, Uncle Henry had sold off everything of value, from the house to my mom’s wedding rings, before moving me to
the middle of the country.
That was when things got really fucked up.
Mom had always said her brother was off, and that was why he was never around. It turned out that off was code for a
doomsday whack job who was convinced the government was out to brainwash us all. He dragged me to a compound where
he, along with over a hundred other people, lived in the wilderness, off the grid, and followed the teachings of the High Alpha.
Things really took a turn when I presented as an omega days after my eighteenth birthday. It was about two years after most
omegas presented, but I’d never been punctual in life or biology.
Even still, being an omega should’ve been my get-out-of-jail-free card. I should have been enrolled in omega classes at one
of the Omega Conservation Centers in America. With omegas making up less than ten percent of the population in the United
States, the OCC had set up several campuses across the country to help omegas learn to handle their designations and
biological changes while allowing them to meet potential packs to bond with.
Omegas were protected. Revered, even.
When my best friend, Calla, had presented as an omega on her sixteenth birthday, her family had thrown a massive party in
her honor. I’d been there, giggling alongside her as young and old packs tried to snag her interest, all while her fathers and
brothers kept them from being inappropriate.
Calla was even nicknamed the Dutton princess in some circles because of how loved and adored she was by her family.
She wanted for nothing, and she genuinely loved being an omega. The instructional classes with her private designation tutor
were the highlight of her week, and she loved the debut balls that were frequently hosted for omegas.
Sure there were some countries where omegas were bartered and traded like cattle, but American omegas had it good. And
that should’ve been my life, too.
But no. Instead, the High Alpha, an aging alpha who thought the world should bow to him because he heard voices,
declared I was the chosen one. Some divine gift from above to further his lineage, and I must be kept under lock and key no
matter what.
It sounded like the twisted plot of one of those daytime soap operas my mom used to watch, but it was all too real.
Today was just another day spent serving my life sentence in hell for a crime I wasn’t even sure of.
The High Alpha’s gaze snapped to me. “Leave us.”
Morris and Jordan exchanged uneasy glances, but Morris was the one who spoke up again. “Sir⁠—”
“Leave. Us.” His alpha bark snapped them into movement. Morris shot me one last look, his green eyes simmering with
fury as, seconds later, he closed the door obediently and they were gone.
I whimpered, the sound rolling through the space.
“Shh,” the High Alpha crooned, moving to the edge of the bed. His gaze tracked down my body, heating and lingering. A
moment later he began to reach for me, then snapped his hand back with a dark chuckle. He shook a finger at me. “I know what
you’re doing, temptress.”
I wanted to sob, but I swallowed down the sound and willed my traitorous body to chill the eff out before I begged him for
his knot.
With a shaky laugh, he stepped back. “It would be so easy to end our mutual torment, but you need to remember what it
feels like to be absent from my touch. Remember these days, of what hell you’ll force us both to endure if you don’t behave as
is befitting of my wife.” His eyes glittered. “Soon, I’ll claim you and then we’ll never be parted.”
Grinding my teeth together, I didn’t speak. Barely breathed. It was the worst sort of torture to both hate and crave the man.
“But I wonder…” He spoke the words so softly I almost missed it, but I couldn’t help but stare, wide-eyed, as he reached
for me again. Two fingers gathered some of the slick coating the inside of my thighs.
I cried out then, my over-sensitized body desperate for more as my soul threatened to shatter. It felt like bugs skittered
under and over my skin, my stomach clenching as bile rolled up my esophagus. I watched, helpless, as he lifted the fingers to
his lips and sucked them clean, his eyes drifting shut as he savored my essence.
Disgust rippled through me, even as I felt more slick gathering between my legs. Gritting my teeth, I hissed a breath that
turned into one of those needy, whining sounds. His eyes snapped open, raw desire melting into feral fury. His hand shot out
again, slapping me across the face and wrenching my head to the side. My cheek throbbed. “You will not tempt your master
with your whines, omega,” he seethed.
As if this was all my fault. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring my vision. God, this just wasn’t fucking fair.
Visibly trembling, he backed away from me toward the door, chest heaving. He jabbed a finger in my direction. “I will be
strong for us both and resist your carnal urges.” His eyes swept the length of me again before he spun and stormed out the door,
leaving me alone.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or even more desperate than before.
But one thing I was sure of?
No way in hell would I be his fifth wife. Even if I died trying, I was getting the hell out of here.
 4

Jude

“F UCK,” J ORDAN GROANED AS WE ENTERED THE BETA BARRACKS . HE SQUEEZED HIS CROTCH WITH A GRIN AT ME. “COME ON ,
Morris. You can’t tell me that bitch didn’t get you hard. Feels like I’m walking with a club between my legs, man.”
I’d seen Jordan in the showers and knew, for a fact, he was working with a twig, at best. Grunting, I brushed off the urge to
slam my fist into his jaw. Instead, I went to my bottom bunk and sat down, ignoring how the name Morris grated on my last
fucking nerve. “Not my thing.”
“Omega cunt isn’t your thing?” Jordan scoffed. “Gimme a sec to rub this out. Can’t wait until the High Alpha gives me my
own wife. I’ve got my eye on Johnson’s daughter.”
Aaron Johnson was another beta guard at the Alpha Protection Alliance, and his oldest daughter was fourteen. The youngest
was ten, and honestly, it was a crap shoot guessing which one Jordan was angling to claim.
My stomach roiled, the sour taste of bile flooding my mouth as I silently gagged. With any luck, this place would be burned
to the ground by the binding ceremony scheduled for next month.
I tuned out the grunts and groans of Jordan as he jerked himself off in the attached bathroom. Fucker had left the door open,
but that wasn’t uncommon. The amount of guys I’d heard jerk off in here since I’d arrived four months earlier was enough to
shrivel my dick permanently.
Glancing around, I took in the long, rectangular space. With rough-hewn wooden planks for the walls, floors, and ceiling,
the beta barracks weren’t much. Mostly just rows of bunk beds with some tables and mismatched chairs in the middle. A few
windows allowed minimal sunlight since the compound was buried deep inside the forest.
Each set of bunks shared a dresser with space for our uniforms—khaki cargo pants and black shirts with black jackets for
when it got cold. There wasn’t much privacy to be had, especially sharing this space with twenty-one other beta males.
But since this barrack specifically was for the beta guards, we also had our own bathroom.
The bathroom resembled a lot of locker rooms I’d been in growing up. Basic blue tiles and several stalls for toilets.
Urinals on the walls and a shower room with ten shower heads. A row of utilitarian white sinks and a long, cracked mirror
above them.
Jordan swore a blue streak from the other room, and I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. At least Jordan didn’t take that long to
get himself off.
And it was a sad fucking fact that I knew the average wank time for almost every guy that slept in this room.
I’d been in some questionable places in my career, this probably took the top spot in absolute shit.
“Suck my fat cock, omega bitch,” Jordan groaned, his voice echoing over the tiles and carrying to me.
Motherfucker was imaging her right now.
I shoved off the bed and paced to the far end of the room to keep from beating the shit out of Jordan and blowing my cover.
After this, I was due a long-ass break.
I’d worked for the FBI for almost five years, and my pack rarely took a vacation, but after this, I was tapping out for a few
weeks, and I didn’t even care if they fired me for it.
 Honestly, the FBI was working hard to weed betas out of split designation teams. Ever since President Anders had been
elected two years earlier, the whole administration had started focusing more on designation distinction.
Having a beta in an alpha pack wasn’t abnormal in life, and it was too commonplace for the government to institute alpha-
only packs, but they could force the designations to separate professionally by claiming alphas would inherently worry that
betas would be at risk in a team or squad setting.
I got it. Alphas were bigger, stronger, more dominant and aggressive. Betas were smaller, weaker, and tended to go with
the flow. And maybe in some circumstances it didn’t work, but in our team, it did.
We each had a role to play, and I was confident enough to admit I was damn good at mine. Besides, no alpha could have
infiltrated the Alpha Preservation Alliance. The only alphas allowed in were ones that had connections here because they were
related to, or friends of, the High Alpha, Donovan Ellis.
When my pack had first stumbled onto the APA group, we’d thought they were another homegrown terrorist cell that was
stockpiling and selling illegal arms across the US/Canadian border.
That was why I was here.
One of the alphas on my team never would’ve made it through the front gates. But a beta who happened to get ‘drunk’ in a
bar APA members were known to frequent, who lamented that all the problems of the world could be fixed by alphas taking the
seat of power… Yeah, these fuckers ate that shit up.
Plus, with the military background the FBI had set up, it was only a few weeks before I’d been promoted to guard.
But, fuck me, I’d never expected what I’d find when I’d gotten here.
Guns, sure.
Terrorists, okay.
Brainwashed idiots who acted like it was a beta’s duty and honor to serve an alpha, whatever.
But then I’d seen her.
Hazel.
A petite omega being held against her will, and my entire mission shifted into doing whatever it took to keep her safe.
Jordan roared his climax in the other room, no doubt thinking of Hazel when he did it. Her haunted green eyes with the ring
of gold around the pupil. The soft curl of her reddish-brown hair. The scent of chocolate cake that had me salivating every time
I was within smelling distance of her.
I slammed a fist against the wall, feeling a few splinters pierce my skin. I welcomed the pain as a way to ground myself.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d overheard several APA members whispering about a potential bomb, I’d have grabbed
Hazel and made a break for it the first time I’d seen her nearly a month ago.
It hadn’t taken much to get the story of the little omega from a few of the other guards.
Hazel’s parents had died and her uncle, a dickish beta named Henry, got custody of her. Her parents had apparently had
quite a bit of money, so Henry had grabbed it all to give straight to the High Alpha.
Hazel was collateral damage, and probably would’ve just suffered the fate of other beta women in this cult. The High
Alpha would give her to one of his beta followers as a ‘way to support the cause’ present. A guy like Jordan, who thought he
was owed sex and submission from a woman because he had a dick.
Things took a turn for Hazel when, a couple months after she’d been here, she presented as an omega.
Designation switches were something of an urban legend. There were a few stories about it happening, but the odds of a
beta turning into an omega was pretty damn impossible.
Until Hazel did just that.
The High Alpha didn’t hesitate to announce that she was his intended fifth wife. He locked her away in that isolated little
shack, away from almost everyone except his council, his wives, and the few beta guards he trusted, which, as of two weeks
ago, included me.
Maybe it made me a shitty agent, or hell, a shitty human, but I stopped giving a damn about the threat of a bomb or illegal
gun sales the moment I’d seen Hazel. It was all about her.
Jordan exited the bathroom a second later, zipping up his pants as he grinned at me. “Guess we should get back to our post,
yeah?”
I nodded as I straightened. “Probably.”
Jordan smirked, giving me a hard once over. “Nothing seems to phase you, Morris. You into dick over pussy?”
I forced my face to remain blank. “I don’t have a preference one way or another.” It was the truth.
I loved women. I also loved men.
Well, one man, anyway. One man who was getting more and more annoyed that I’d been away from his side for four
months. But Rhett and I had both known what we were signing up for when we packed up after our team was established with
the FBI.
Working with the guy who owned your heart might’ve seemed like asking for trouble, but my pack made it work. I couldn’t
imagine trusting anyone else but those three alphas to have my back.
 “Might be time to get you laid,” Jordan continued, always thinking with his cock. “There’s some beta bitches that would⁠—”
“I’m good,” I cut him off, striding across the room and yanking open the wooden door with more force than necessary. The
bitter March wind slapped my face, still brutally cold for this time of the year in the mountains of Montana.
“Just sayin’,” Jordan drawled, following me outside, “you might be a little more fun if you got your rocks off.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, glaring at Jordan. I wasn’t an alpha by designation, but I was fucking huge thanks to genetics and a
daily workout routine. I had a few inches and easily twenty pounds of muscle on Jordan.
The last thing this asshat wanted to do was piss me off even more.
Grinning, Jordan held up his hands innocently. “Chill, man. Just a suggestion.”
He could take his suggestions and shove them. I was here because it was my job.
But as we headed for our post at the main gate, I couldn’t help but feel the lie sour in my stomach as I shot a furtive glance
down the path that led to Hazel’s cabin.
The lines were blurring between my duty to my country, and the pull of my instincts.
And I had a feeling that pretty soon that line would be obliterated altogether.
 5

Hazel

IT TOOK TWO MORE DAYS FOR MY HEAT TO FULLY BREAK. ON THE SIXTH DAY OF MY ISOLATION , TWO OF THE HIGH ALPHA’ S
wives came in and unchained my weak body. They helped me up and wordlessly helped me out of the room, a third wife
sweeping inside to begin cleaning the room while they helped me to the bathroom.
I didn’t have to ask where the fourth wife was. I’d heard her cries well into the night as the High Alpha used her as he
pleased. She was a young beta, barely seventeen. She’d been married to him for five years and had already birthed two of his
children.
If I had anything left in my stomach, I would’ve thrown up. Not even the feverish mania of my heat could keep me from
ingraining her screams in my head. As it was, I felt like I’d been shoved into a washing machine and set on the spin cycle for
the last twenty-four hours.
The shack was only a few yards from the wives’ quarters, but it might as well have been miles, as exhausted as I was.
Soundlessly, the wives hauled me into the back of the house and up the stairs to the second floor. I barely noticed the peeling
walls and a faint mildew scent smothered in bleach stung my nostrils as they dragged me to the bathroom.
The eldest of the wives, Miriam, practically shoved me into a shower stall, a scowl permanently fixed on her face. At
thirty-three, she was still twenty years the High Alpha’s junior, but she was the one who called all the shots with the wives.
And she hated me.
“Disgusting,” she finally muttered, breaking the silence. Her lips twisted into a grimace as she waited for me to peel the
sweat and slick soaked cloth from my body. She tossed it at the other wife, Daphne, with a huff.
Daphne, a petite woman who was barely twenty-five, kept her head down. I hadn’t heard her speak more than ten words
since I’d first arrived at the compound years ago. Her small frame was currently heavy with her fourth child.
It was something that pissed off Miriam, who apparently hadn’t been able to conceive a child for the last three years.
Then again, almost everything pissed Miriam off. She was a miserable bitch who loved making people feel as awful as she
did. She’d drunk all the High Alpha’s Kool-Aid and asked for a refill.
Miriam turned, her elbow snapping into Daphne’s stomach. Daphne paled, a hand shooting out to the wall to steady herself
as she let out a soft cry of pain. Her other hand came up to cradle her belly.
With a hiss, Miriam whirled on Daphne, her back to me. “It’s your own fault for being too close.” She sneered at the
younger woman. “Go.”
Daphne’s golden brown eyes flickered to me for barely a heartbeat before skittering away, but not fast enough for Miriam
to miss.
With a shove, Miriam pushed the smaller woman. Daphne stumbled on the broken tiles of the floor, catching herself against
the sink with a pained cry as her stomach hit it first. Miriam flinched for a second, clearly wondering if she’d gone too far.
It wasn’t like the High Alpha actually cared about Daphne beyond her being a pretty doll he could fuck and parade around,
but he definitely cared about the child she carried.
“Fool,” Miriam hissed, grabbing Daphne’s elbow, her knuckles turning white where she gripped Daphne’s pale flesh. “You
have to be more careful. You’re carrying the child of our High Alpha.”
I shook my head, wanting to say something as Miriam gaslighted Daphne right in front of me, but it was all I could do to
stay standing at this point. I was weak from five days of fevers and minimal food and water.
Daphne ducked her head, her lower lip trembling.
Miriam sighed, the sound slightly less aggravated as she smoothed an almost motherly hand down Daphne’s spine. “Go and
rest, Daphne. I will finish with the omega.”
The way she spat my title left little room for interpretation—the woman flat out hated me. Like I’d been the one begging
some higher power to make me a slave to my hormones for my adult life. Or that I’d begged the High Alpha to make me his next
wife.
After Daphne left and quietly closed the door behind her, Miriam turned her fury on me.
“You reek, omega,” she hissed, reaching into the shower stall and turning on the ice cold water.
I jerked with a gasp, my skull cracking against the tiles of the shower wall as I tried to skitter away, icy bullets pelting my
clammy skin. I tried to dodge the arctic spray, but she doggedly pushed me back into it, shoving up the sleeves of her shirt and
baring the roman numeral that denoted her as the first wife. It had been burned into her skin with a branding iron.
My gut clenched and roiled as I imagined the V being seared into my flesh in a few days.
“Clean yourself,” she barked. She was a beta, and a weak one at that, but my omega impulses were so fritzed out and
overwhelmed, I jumped to obey the command.
“Filthy slut,” she muttered, loathing lacing her words as she watched me wash my hair with trembling hands.
I didn’t bother with conditioner, positive that there was no way I could lift my arms over my head enough. My eyes drifted
shut, blackness fuzzing the edges of my vision. I was so damn tired.
Something sharp flicked across my nipple, the bite of pain making me yelp as my eyes snapped open.
Miriam smirked, the wet washcloth in her hand likely what she’d hit me with. Not enough to leave a mark the High Alpha
might notice, but enough to make me remember my place in her world.
She squirted a liberal amount of scent blocking body wash into the rag and jerked her chin at my pussy, unabashedly staring
between my legs. “Clean your fuckhole. It’s what the High Alpha needs you for, after all. It must be pristine for your claiming
next week. Right now it smells like rot.”
Humiliation burned through my cheeks. She was right; I smelled awful. My usual chocolate cake perfume had soured,
mixing with the stink of sweat and dried slick. I reeked like a moldy confection, set in the sun and left for flies and maggots to
cover.
Gritting my teeth, I resigned myself to washing myself as she watched, commenting when I wasn’t cleaning myself hard
enough. The rough fabric of the cloth abraded my sensitive skin as I scrubbed it harder between my folds. She wasn’t satisfied
until I was raw between my legs and every last trace of my perfume disappeared down the drain with whatever remained of my
pride.
She pushed a razor into my palm next, watching as I shaved away the wispy hairs that had grown back in the week since I’d
showered. The High Alpha demanded his wives—and by default me—be bare from the neck down. Even my forearms had to
be rid of any hair.
I dropped the razor to the bottom of the shower, the only mutiny I could muster. Even still, Miriam lifted every limb to
inspect it for errant hairs. I gritted my teeth when she nudged my thighs apart to check my pussy. Rough fingers stabbed between
my folds, and I clenched my teeth against a snarl. With an annoyed nod, she accepted I was to the High Alpha’s standards. Only
then did she turn off the shower and hurl a towel at my head.
I quickly dried, wanting to be done with the humiliating experience. It wasn’t the first time Miriam had watched me shower
or inspected my cleanliness, and I highly doubted it would be the last. Especially after my escape attempt, the High Alpha
hadn’t left me alone at all unless I was locked in my room. And even then, there was usually a guard stationed outside.
Learning to shit with someone watching me had taken a sledgehammer to what was left of my modesty. If it wasn’t one of
the beta guards, the wives, or the High Alpha himself, someone was always there. I was never alone, and it frustrated me to no
end. Even locked away, Logan was with me. There was never a moment for me to break down in private, and I wouldn’t give
these assholes the satisfaction of breaking me.
No fucking way.
Once I dried off with the scratchy towel, she shoved the usual white muslin dress over my body. Damp spots made the
already thin fabric sheer in places as my hair dripped down my back in a tangled mess.
I would’ve killed for a pair of leggings, an oversized sweater, and my bottle of It’s a 10 leave in conditioner.
Shuffling around Miriam, I stepped up to the sink at the small counter to brush my teeth. After days of being chained up, I
needed to get the yuck out of my mouth. It was absolutely disgusting, and I scoured my teeth with the toothbrush while looking
in the mirror. Miriam stepped up behind me with a brush and started ripping it through my hair.
I winced at the pull on my scalp at the first pass of the brush, but quickly compartmentalized the pain like I usually did. I
folded it up, tucked it into an iron chest my mind had built, locked the pain inside, and tossed it off a cliff into the ocean.
Having the freedom and clarity to separate myself a little from this reality was a relief. My heat had twisted my ability to do
that, to think rationally and clearly.
Yet another check mark in the column for reasons why being an omega sucked hairy donkey dick.
It made me weak, and I hated it more than the bitch behind me trying to yank my hair out.
Miriam huffed as she brushed my hair, annoyed that she’d yet again been given the task of making me perfect and
presentable for the High Alpha. As much as I despised him, Miriam loved him. Worshiped him.
When I’d first been brought into the High Alpha’s household, I’d actually felt bad for her. It was easy to see that Miriam
had devoted her life to a man who used her like a servant and a whore. She’d endured newer, shinier models of wives being
paraded in front of her for over a decade now, and she’d been given the task of keeping them beautiful for her husband.
Her emotions had calcified over the years, leaving her hard and bitter. She couldn’t take out her rage on the man who’d
earned it, so she took it out on his wives and the other women in the cult, exerting the limited control she had like a whip,
cracking it over the heads of those beneath her.
The brush snagged in a particularly matted section of my hair, the result of rolling my head around a sweat-soaked pillow
for nearly a week. My eyes watered at the sudden flare of pain, my gaze jerking up to my reflection in the mirror over the sink.
My reddish-gold hair was dark from the shower, the ends just starting to dry. Despite the discount shampoo, hard water,
and Miriam’s attempt to rip out the strands at the roots, my omega genes gave the drying bits of my hair a soft shine. I knew that
by the time it was dry, my hair would look like it was ready for a hair care commercial.
Omega DNA was weird. Like my entire being was covered by the kind of filter I’d used on social media back when I’d had
access to luxuries like phones and the internet. But my genetics did what they were supposed to do—make me look appealing
to the world in the hopes of catching the attention of an alpha.
It was why after a week of hell, my skin was still soft. My cheeks had a rosy flush that offset the smattering of freckles
across the bridge of my nose. My eyes were a mossy green with gold rings around my pupils. The hazel color was why my
parents had picked my name.
I’d lost weight since coming to the commune, and even more from barely eating the last six days. It made my already slim
frame a little more skeletal, but I still had full, high breasts and a rounded ass and hips. Things that would make me attractive to
a potential mate or pack.
If I thought taking a knife to my flesh would deter the High Alpha, I’d have smashed the mirror and used a shard to slice and
dice every inch of my pale skin to ribbons. But unless I could manage to sew my vagina shut, there wouldn’t be any deterring
him. Especially not when omegas were already rare, and I knew for a fact there had never been an omega as part of the
commune.
Lucky me, I’d been hidden in a damn off the grid compound for alpha worshipping psychos when my designation made
itself known. The High Alpha declared I was the long awaited prophecy they had been praying for. A harbinger of the glorious
future to come for the chosen few.
Yeah, I threw up a little in my mouth, too, when I heard that.
But I’d been given a pass until my first heat since my omega body technically wasn’t sexually mature until after it. I’d spent
three damn years dreading my heat.
Now it had come and gone.
Which meant the clock hanging over my head to be married to the High Alpha, and more disgustingly, bonded and bred to
him, had jumped forward significantly.
Water dripped from the shower behind me. The ominously metered plop of water droplets sounded like time ticking down,
marching me toward the hell of my future.
Miriam set the brush aside and started twisting my hair back into a severe braid, her fingers moving with deft practice
through my heavy mane. She tied it off with a rubber band and tossed the braid over my shoulder, the ends almost poking me in
the eye. Her cold, flat brown eyes glared at me in the reflection as her upper lip curled. “You’re finished, omega.”
I kept my expression stoic, knowing better than to react.
Her brows raised. “Nothing to say?” Her features twisted into a scowl. “You should consider your position a blessing.”
It took everything in me not to roll my eyes. Instead I clenched my teeth and refused to lower my gaze, even though my
omega instincts were screaming at me to diffuse the situation by giving in. Submitting.
But my parents, thinking I was a beta just like them, had raised me to be a strong, independent woman. The odds of two
betas giving birth to an omega was practically non-existent. I should have been three years into a four year degree in nursing
like I’d planned since I was twelve.
Miriam leaned in, her chest brushing my back as she lowered her lips to my ear. “Our mighty High Alpha will soon make
you his, omega.” Her lips curved in a cruel smirk. “And I can’t wait to see how pretty you are when he turns you into his
whore. Because that’s all you are. A pretty little fuckhole that can take a knot and give him more alphas.”
Unable to stop myself, I met her gaze in the glass, my mouth curving into a mocking grin. “At least I can take a knot, and I’m
not a useless, common beta.” It was a low blow, and honestly I’d have given my left nipple to be just a basic beta myself, but I
knew the words would hurt Miriam.
I wanted someone else to hurt.
In this fucked up cult, betas really believed alphas were superiors to the world, and the greatest purpose in life was to
serve them. Fulfill their every need.
Miriam would never be able to open up her beta cunt enough to take his knot, and that meant I was her superior.
And it fucking killed her.
Fury flashed in her eyes a second before her hand twisted around my braid, wrenching my head back. Pain arced up my
spine as my vertebrae cracked and twisted. “You fucking worthless⁠—”
“Miriam.” Morris’s sharp voice cut through the space with authority, freezing us both in place.
Miriam hissed a breath as she looked at the open door to the bathroom where he stood, glaring at her with piercing green
eyes. Behind him, Daphne hovered, twisting her hands together. For a brief second her gaze met mine over Morris’s massively
muscled shoulder, and I swore I saw something that looked like respect.
But just as fast as I’d clocked the emotion, it was snuffed out, the blank look she typically wore sliding back into place.
Miriam slowly released her hold on my hair. “Beta Morris,” she greeted through gritted teeth, forcing herself back into the
role of the High Alpha’s dutiful first wife. “May I help you?”
“You can help me by unhanding her,” Morris snapped, looking like he was seconds away from coming into the small space
and ripping her away. His gaze flicked to me and softened slightly. “The High Alpha is asking for you. I’ll take you to him.”
Miriam glowered and stepped back. “I was planning to bring the omega to the meeting.”
Oh, fuck. No wonder Miriam was in an extra bitchy snit. Meetings around here were rarely good news, no matter how
much the High Alpha proclaimed his visions were given by the god he subscribed to.
At the last meeting, he’d announced that the will of the highest power advised him of the future of a girl who had just turned
thirteen. Now the pretty beta would be married off to one of the High Alpha’s inner council before her fourteenth birthday.
When her dad had thrown a fit, the High Alpha quickly pronounced the man to be afflicted by the devil and was to be held in
the pit until he saw the error of his ways.
The pit was the APA’s prison. It was a hole fifteen feet underground, only three feet in diameter. It was damn near
impossible to turn around in, let alone sit. People were left there for days, sometimes weeks. Bits of stale bread and water
were dropped from the locked grates above, and you had to tip your head back and hope something landed in your open mouth.
The guards found it hysterical to piss into the hole when the person inside was begging for water.
The High Alpha had tried to break me by putting me in the hole twice. The first time for a day when I questioned something
the first week I’d been here. The second was for five days after I said no way in hell was I going to marry him. He thought I
would change my mind.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t. So he found a new way to control me. And with the exception of the time I’d tried to escape, it had
worked like a fucking charm.
Because there was one way to make a person, omega or not, behave.
And the High Alpha had zero problem exploiting the one weakness I would never stop protecting.
Logan.
 6

Hazel

A CHILL TICKLED OVER MY SKIN AS A CARPET OF DEAD LEAVES CRUNCHED BENEATH MY FEET . THE SIMPLE FLIP - FLOPS AND THIN
dress did little to protect me from the weather shifting from bitter winter to slightly-less bitter early spring.
I glanced around the commune—the compound, as the High Alpha called it—and saw the same crudely constructed log
cabins dispersed through the space that I knew for a fact was surrounded by a wall of concrete six inches deep and sixteen feet
high.
Hidden in the woods of upstate Montana, the commune was remote and completely off the grid. There were old electricity
lines that weren’t functional since electric bills meant establishing an address that went on record. The High Alpha did
everything to keep his people, and what they were doing, out of the public eye. That meant no power, no phones, and no
computers. Once every two months, several trucks full of men the High Alpha trusted implicitly went into the nearest town to
get food and medical supplies.
I wasn’t sure what or where that town was, but the trucks left before the sun rose and often returned long after it had set
behind the mountains in the west, which made me think it wasn’t exactly a place I could walk to.
The commune was surrounded by mountains on three sides, which meant there was one road in and one road out, and it was
easily defensible. High pine and cedar trees provided a canopy of cover from any planes or helicopters that might pass by, and
I’d learned a while back that the land beyond the concrete fence was also owned by the commune.
The meeting place was in the largest building within the walls. Directly in the center of the property, it was able to
accommodate the two hundred and sixty-eight people who lived here. The High Alpha lived on the floor above the meeting
space—the only area powered by a generator. His wives lived in a small cabin at the back of the property, tucked out of sight
until they were called upon, either to his bed or to be paraded around in front of his people as the trophies they represented.
There were a few families who had their own cabins, and a large men’s barrack for the betas and foot soldiers of the
group. A smaller women’s cabin was across from it, and tucked very far behind that was the tiny, single room cabin I shared
with Logan.
As Morris and I walked the long path to the meeting cabin, my arm brushed against his, and for a second, I considered
leaning into his warmth. The muted scents of freshly laundered linens and lavender seemed at odds with the massive beta, who
looked like he could easily take down an alpha or five himself. It was part of the reason Morris had been moved up to the ranks
of the Beta Elite—the betas most trusted by the High Alpha and Shepherds. They mostly handled security and any fights that
broke out.
Morris was relatively new to the group. He’d arrived four months earlier, but he’d made himself known, carving out a
place with his sheer physicality and ability to know when a fight was about to break out amongst the lesser betas. I’d watched
him from the fringes until he’d been assigned to my personal guard detail with other betas who had proven themselves vicious
and skilled fighters. The type of betas who would stand up to a rogue alpha trying to snatch the High Alpha’s chosen mate.
And yet despite that, there was something about Morris that made me feel safe. I was blaming whatever form of Stockholm
Syndrome that had me crushing on him on omega hormones. It was why I didn’t flinch when my arm touched his. Why I almost
leaned into him, craving more of his scent.
But as soon as my skin made contact with his, he stepped seamlessly to the right, adding an extra six inches to the distance
between us.
Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. It was so stupid. So insanely, irrationally stupid, but I missed touch. I missed the feel
of warm skin against mine. Of comfort and hugs.
Things that, according to every health book I’d read in school prior to being yanked out by my uncle, an omega needed to
thrive.
Ducking my head into the wind, I tugged the elastic from my auburn hair so it fell free, tumbling around my face. It afforded
me a modicum of privacy as I reconciled—not for the first time—that I was disappointed my captors didn’t touch me.
Being an omega sucked.
It wasn’t fluffy nests, protective alphas, and being pampered daily like the media portrayed it.
Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Calla had been treated like a princess. But, to be fair, her dads, older brothers, and
mom all treasured her as the baby of their pack. She could have been a basic beta and they still would have loved and adored
her.
The way my parents had loved and adored me.
So, maybe being an omega just sucked if you were stolen from people who would have loved you and sold to a sadistic
monster with a god complex.
The truth soured in my stomach, and I looked up at Morris from the corner of my eye. The question slipped out before I
could stop myself. “How is he?”
I didn’t have to clarify who he was.
It was no secret that the only person I gave a shit about behind these walls was Logan.
Which was exactly what the High Alpha counted on.
The first time the High Alpha kissed me, the night he’d declared I would be his fifth wife, I’d taken it. I’d accepted his
disgusting tongue in my mouth and the hands that groped my ass.
He did that for years at various functions when he’d parade me out for his loyal followers to see, and I took it for over two
years.
Until the night a year ago that he didn’t stop at kissing my lips while gripping my ass. His scent had been sharper, more
potent. Now I knew he was going into rut—a time when alphas went a little haywire and became extremely sexually
aggressive.
In a room full of prying, excited eyes, he’d started to peel down my dress. The first press of his fingers inside my pussy had
me biting down on his tongue. The taste of his blood dripped into my mouth before he ripped his lips away, glaring at me like a
feral animal with his chest heaving.
Everyone had been horrified, and I still remembered the hush that fell across the crowd gathered.
And I fought back the only way I knew how.
I braced myself, expecting violence. Expecting pain and humiliation—two things he loved inflicting—and it never came.
It was what followed next that would haunt me the rest of my life.
The High Alpha smiled at me through blood-stained teeth, his expression full of condescension as he regarded me like a
wayward child needing to be brought to heel.
And then he’d had Logan brought to the center of the meeting.
Logan’s entire body trembled, his scrawny arms held to the point of bruising by two of the Shepherds. His wide blue eyes
looked at me, full of fear.
I’d done everything I could to get to him, but I was small and weak. The High Alpha held me against his chest and forced
me to watch as another member of the circle came forward with a pair of pliers and ruthlessly extracted one of Logan’s teeth
before he pushed me into the arms of two beta guards who made me watch as the High Alpha and Shepherds took turns raping
Logan.
It lasted an eternity. Until after I’d lost my voice from screaming and Logan had fallen unconscious. Even some of his most
ardent beta supports looked nauseated by the end of the whole thing, but none of it mattered because it was all for me.
That was my punishment.
As long as I behaved, Logan wasn’t hurt. But if I stepped out of line, even for a heartbeat, they used him to punish me.
I could’ve taken any punishment, but that was the point. I might not have cared about myself, but I damn sure cared about
Logan.
Which was why it terrified me that I hadn’t seen him in nearly a week.
Morris’s jaw tightened, his forest green eyes flashing for a beat before a mask of indifference slid over his face. “He’ll be
glad to see you.”
Icy tendrils of fear laced around my spine. I pulled up short, the meeting house looming in the distance as I squared my
shoulders. “Morris⁠—”
 He outright flinched at the sound of his name. His eyes did a furtive sweep of the area, and when he seemed satisfied no
one was looking, he turned his attention to me.
My breath caught as his gaze collided with mine, and for just a moment, I almost forgot where I was. I swallowed audibly,
roughly. “You’re not telling me something.”
Morris looked conflicted, his gaze jerking to the side and a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Fuck,” he
whispered, sounding torn.
“Please,” my voice cracked on the plea as unease churned in my stomach, “if he’s been hurt⁠—”
Another wince. “Not… hurt. But your heat triggered his.” His green eyes met mine, somber and full of regret.
My hand flew up, covering my mouth as a pained whimper slipped through my lips. Fear settled into my bones, rattling
them hard enough that I started to shake.
Morris stepped forward, hands outstretched like he was ready to pull me against his wide chest and offer comfort, but then
he stopped at the last second. I watched him inhale sharply through his mouth, his throat working as his gaze cut away from me.
The idea that Logan had been suffering the way I had was almost worse than the cramps that had threatened to tear my
uterus into pieces during the height of my heat. First heats were usually considered mild, and if that was the case, it was easy to
see how omegas could be permanently damaged or even die when left alone to ride out their heats.
“Where did they keep him?” I demanded, my head snapping in different directions as if I could see him.
Morris stayed quiet, and the dread singeing my nerves coiled into a cold ball of terror that sank like a boulder to the pit of
my stomach.
“Morris—”
He looked down at the ground, and for a second, I saw unbridled fury flash across his features. It was enough to send me
scrambling back a step, out of his reach in case he turned his fury on me.
Stricken, his gaze met mine. “I’d never hurt you, Hazel.”
Hazel.
Morris was one of the few people who called me by my actual name instead of my designation. He was one of the only
ones who reminded me I was still human, still my own person.
Instead of backing away more, I stopped. I believed him. Morris had always treated me with respect, maybe even…
kindness?
“Is Logan okay?” I whispered. “Can you take me to him?”
Morris cleared his throat, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “He’s still in heat.”
“Okay.” My breaths came in sharp, shallow pants. “I need to see him⁠—”
“Hazel.” His sharp tone cut me off, a warning inflection buried in the timbre of his voice. “He isn’t… alone. The High
Alpha allowed the alphas in his circle to…” His cheeks flushed red.
The earth spun as his words registered. “No. No!” My heart cracked into pieces. “He promised if I behaved he would
leave Logan alone!” My shrill voice sent birds scattering from the branches above us. “I was good. I swear I was good.”
Morris grimaced and closed the distance between us, pulling me to his broad chest and backing us against a wide cedar
trunk where he maneuvered us until we were hidden from anyone who might come to investigate my cries.
A sob wrenched free of my chest, the absolute unfairness of the entire fucked up situation breaking the last bit of sanity I
hadn’t realized I’d been clinging to. Burying my face against his chest, I inhaled his soft cotton scent, my fingers curling against
the soft material of his shirt. His stomach was a slab of muscle under my fists.
“Hazel,” he whispered against the crown of my head, his tone pleading, “sweetheart, you have to calm down.”
I tipped my head back, his face blurry through my tears. “I can’t do this. I won’t do this,” I vowed, shaking my head. “I’ll
kill him.”
“His council would kill you,” Morris pointed out, his chest expanding with a sharp, worried breath. His hands came up to
frame my face, the rough calluses of his palms somehow soothing. “Hazel, you can’t⁠—”
“What I can’t do is live like this,” I hissed. “I won’t. I don’t care if they kill me.”
His eyes blazed as he pressed me against the tree, his massive body pinning mine in place. “Hazel, I need you to trust me.”
A scoff ripped from my throat. “Trust you?” I tried to bat his hands away, but he didn’t budge.
His green eyes were practically glowing as they met mine, trying to convey something his words couldn’t seem to. “Hazel,
please. I’m begging you to just trust me. I promise this will all make sense, but I need you to just hang in here for a little while
longer.”
“Why?” My eyes searched his, desperate for answers. For a single shred of hope.
His eyes slid shut, his forehead dipping to press against mine for a heartbeat. “I can’t answer that right now.”
I jerked back, my head hitting the trunk of the tree hard enough that spots danced in my vision.
“Hazel.” He barked my name, his fingers coming up to gently inspect the area.
“Get off me,” I hissed, shrinking back as much as I could. “You’re just like them.” I lifted my chin a notch, daring him. “Go
ahead. Tell the High Alpha what I said. See if I care. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll decide I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”
Morris’s head tilted to the side. “He won’t do that.”
“Oh, no?” I snorted.
“No,” he replied, his tone firm. “Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?” I spat.
His breath fanned across my face, minty and fresh. “You’re worth everything, Hazel.”
 7

Hazel

MORRIS ’ S WORDS WERE STILL RINGING IN MY EARS AS WE LEFT THE SECLUSION OF THE TREE AND STEPPED BACK ONTO THE PATH.
Thankfully no one was milling around as we walked toward the meeting house. As his boots hit the bottom stair, the door
pushed open and I recognized Jared, an older alpha from the inner circle, standing there.
His lips twisted in a sneer, the lines of his leathery skin contorting into a mix of hunger and hate as he watched me ascend
the steps. As soon as I was within reach, he grabbed for my arm.
I flinched away as Morris stepped between us, his body shielding me from the assault. “The High Alpha’s omega is not to
be touched.”
Jared sucked in a breath through his yellowing teeth as he rocked back on his heels. “Don’t forget your place, beta.”
Morris didn’t twitch. “My place is protecting the High Alpha’s omega from any and all threats.”
Jared bristled and leaned down, a whiff of his moldy leaves scent assaulting my senses. “That’s right, because all you’re
good for is protecting, right? Can’t knot the bitch, can you, beta? Can’t make her scream?” He used the word like a slur. Like
that somehow made Morris less of a man.
As if forcing your knot into an unwilling hole was somehow the mark of a leader.
Morris’s head tilted to the side. “If you have to rely on knotting a woman to make her scream, then I’m pretty sure you don’t
know what you’re doing, alpha.” Derision dripped from his words.
Jared growled and stepped forward, his barrel chest bumping Morris and sending me skittering backwards as the cloying,
acidic scent of pheromones permeated the air. To his credit, Morris didn’t back down. He was easily twenty years Jared’s
junior, but the only size Jared had came from genetics.
Alphas were naturally taller, stronger, and more fit than betas—and definitely than omegas—but Jared had been content to
rely on his natural genetics instead of enhancing them. His chest and stomach were solid, but round, and I knew for a fact from
the way he liked to stomp around shirtless in the hot summer months that he had zero muscle definition.
Morris? Yeah, my money was on Morris being able to knock him out with a single punch. His biceps were the size of my
thighs before I’d gone on the commune’s diet of frequent starvation and minimal meals. He might have been a beta, but he was
ripped as hell.
“What is going on out there?” The High Alpha’s annoyed voice carried from deep inside the meeting room. “Where is my
omega?”
Morris stepped forward, his boots hitting Jared’s as he glared up at the alpha. Jared might’ve had a few inches in height on
Morris, but he lacked the power and command Morris’s mere presence demanded.
With a hiss, Jared moved aside to allow us to pass, but I felt his breath hot on my neck as he followed us into the room.
Wooden benches were set up in lines like pews, arranged for the men to have the best seats in the house. Women and
children were permitted to stand in the back, when they were allowed into the room at all. The High Alpha’s throne sat atop a
raised dais at the front, and to the right were seats for his circle. To the left was an open space where his wives were expected
to kneel at his feet, sometimes for hours, as he droned on and on about whatever some bullshit deity had revealed to him.
 I hated Miriam, but I’d seen the permanent scars and bruises on her knees from years of kneeling on the rough wood. The
other wives looked the same.
Squaring my shoulders, I refused to cower, even as the attention of every alpha shifted to me.
It was a battle, and one I was rapidly losing. The omega side of me hated to see any alpha unhappy. I wanted to get on my
knees, to whimper and beg for their compassion—hell, even flip my dress up and present to them to show them I was a good
omega.
Biology had made me its bitch when I’d awakened as an omega, leaving me a slave to the whims of men who didn’t give a
shit, while making me feel like I constantly needed praise and approval that would never come.
Jared’s heavy footsteps clomped across the space and he took his place in a chair to the right of the High Alpha. Two of the
circle members were missing, though.
Lifting cold, cruel eyes, the High Alpha jerked his head for me to come to him. Like a bitch being brought to heel.
I considered refusing, fighting, but until I had eyes on Logan and knew he was safe, I couldn’t risk it. Stiffly, I walked
forward until I stood in front of the High Alpha, my hands fisted at my sides.
He lifted a calculating brow, eyeing my hands until I forced my palms to relax. Then he smiled and glanced back at his
literal right-hand man—his younger brother, Hayden. “See? I told you she can be trained. She will be the crown jewel of my
wives.”
I dropped my gaze to the floor and started counting knots in the wooden planks. I needed a distraction before I screamed,
but it meant I was caught off guard when the High Alpha reached for me and yanked me forward. I tumbled into his lap with a
yelp, trying to push off even as his hands clamped around my waist. His teeth lightly nipped at the back of my neck, not enough
to break the skin, but enough to send a bolt of fear crashing through my nerves.
The High Alpha had promised he would breed and mate me publicly our first time so the entire group could witness our
union. Then he would bite me, claim me, and bind us together until one of us died.
A chilling frost turned the ice in my veins to slush, my thoughts slowing as I realized I would do it.
I would kill myself before I was bound to this man.
Before I let him violate and knot me, force me to bear his children, and then watch as they were raised in his image, I
would end my life along with his plans.
He mistook the way I quieted for compliance, petting a hand down my back with a rough purr that set my teeth on edge.
“There’s my good omega,” he crooned.
The only thing I planned on being was his worst nightmare.
The High Alpha’s hand stilled on my back and he leaned forward, sniffing my neck. A second later, a growl ripped through
the room and I was shoved aside.
With a cry, I landed on my hands and knees in front of the throne, my head snapping up in time to see him grab Morris’s
shirt and lift him off the ground.
The High Alpha was an older alpha, but wasn’t lazy like Jared or some of the others. No, he kept in shape by torturing and
hurting others for imagined slights and violated rules.
And right now, he was clearly pissed at Morris.
“I can smell your beta stench on my mate,” the High Alpha hissed, spittle flying.
To his credit, Morris didn’t flinch. “You asked me to collect her, High Alpha. To bring her to you. And yes, my scent may
have transferred to her when I stopped one of your circle from touching her.”
That made the High Alpha still, his head turning to side-eye his council over his shoulder. “Who?”
No one spoke until Jared cleared his throat and leaned forward. “I was simply trying to bring her to you faster, sir, when
the beta failed to complete his task quickly. I know how you have been waiting for her.”
A muscle ticked in the High Alphas jaw and he looked to me a second before releasing Morris, who landed easily on his
feet. The High Alpha walked over to me, towering above me as his gaze fixed on where my dress had rucked up my thighs.
“I suppose I can’t blame my omega for being so tempting, can I?” He turned back to his circle with a grin. “She tastes
divine, by the way. I’ll admit I faltered on my path and had to have a single taste. Perhaps in her next heat, I’ll bottle some of
her slick for you to try yourselves. To reward your loyalty.”
Humiliation flamed across my cheeks and I looked away, but not before hearing the laughter and seeing the leering stares of
several men, including a few who adjusted themselves in their pants.
“After all,” the High Alpha went on, his booming tone obnoxiously magnanimous as he lowered himself onto his throne,
“do I not care for my flock? I even ensured you had an omega of your own when the urge to rut strikes.”
I should’ve stayed quiet.
Should’ve kept my head down.
“You’re a liar,” I hissed, my tone so low I thought everyone might miss it.
But the room went suddenly, deathly, silent. I thought Morris stopped breathing, his green eyes flaring wide with panic
before he slipped his mask of indifference back into place.
 “What did you say to me?” The High Alpha leaned forward in his chair, his feet inches from my hip.
I lifted my chin and met him dead in the eye. “You are a fucking liar.”
“Omega cunt!” Hayden jumped to his feet, pain and vengeance in his eyes.
The High Alpha held up a hand to stop him. “How is that, my pet?”
“You swore an oath that Logan would be safe if I did what you wanted,” I snapped, my chest heaving. “You promised if I
behaved, you wouldn’t hurt him.”
The High Alpha slowly smiled. “I can assure you, omega, he wasn’t hurt. In fact, I hear he rather enjoyed himself.”
“He didn’t consent⁠—”
“On the contrary,” Hayden cut in, grinning, “he fucking begged for our knots. What type of alphas would we be if we left
him to his own pain? A male omega might not be good for much more than taking a knot, and he did so splendidly.”
“Well,” another member of the circle protested with a dark laugh, “he put up a little resistance when Hayden and I knotted
him together, but then Jared knotted his mouth and…” He shrugged and waved a dismissive hand.
I was shaking. “You’re sick. Fucking sick assholes⁠—”
“Enough!” The High Alpha’s roar hit my ears a second before his fist crashed into my cheek. Stars exploded across my
vision, my ears ringing. He grabbed my hair in a punishing grip, wrenching me to my knees. “You forget your place, omega,” he
raged at me, shaking me hard enough that the bones in my neck popped and cracked.
On instinct, I lifted my hands and tried to pry him off me, my nails digging into his wrist. His boot snapped out, landing
against my ribs once. Twice.
I doubled over with a gasp, coughing until I tasted blood.
He glared down at me. “Now look at what you’ve made me do! Tonight was to be our bridal feast, but clearly it is a
ceremonial honor you don’t deserve.” He glared at Morris. “Take her to her cabin to clean up. Having the foresight to instruct
Miriam to prepare the dress in advance was clearly a sign.”
At the word dress my head came up slowly, pounding as my vision blurred a little around the edges. The man sure as hell
knew how to throw a punch, if nothing else.
The corner of his mouth hooked up. “I see the true path now, and the only way the almighty will honor this union is if it
happens immediately. Tonight, you will bear my mark. You will take my knot while our community stands witness to this
holiest of moments.”
“No,” I whispered, blood leaking from the corner of my mouth.
“Get her out of my sight, and then go into town with Jordan. We’ll need ample food for the festivities,” the High Alpha
barked, his command spurring Morris into immediate action.
Despite the clenched jaw, Morris’s touch was gentle as he helped me up. My ears were still ringing as I limped off the
dais, but it was not enough to prevent me from overhearing a conversation that chilled my soul.
“The boy?” Hayden queried, his tone almost bored.
“Bring him, too. If my omega wants to fight back, we’ll use him to show her how many knots a hole can take before it rips
at the seams,” the High Alpha hissed.
My eyes closed, a sob welling in my chest, my lungs expanding with the effort to hold it in, as I realized I’d seriously
fucked things up.
Again.
 8

Hazel

MY JAW WAS STILL THROBBING AS I TRAILED BEHIND MORRIS BACK TO MY SHACK. I STUDIED THE COMMUNE AS WE WALKED , MY
gaze darting around, looking for an out.
If anything, it looked more fortified than ever. Did the High Alpha always have this many betas on guard duty? It seemed
like half the male population of the group were watching Morris lead me away.
I kept my head up, used to their stares and whispers. As if my rare omega status weren’t enough, the High Alpha’s
proclamation that I was going to give birth to his heir and their messiah meant I was even more of a commodity.
Nevermind the fact that I would scrape out my uterus with a rusty spoon before letting the High Alpha’s seed take root
anywhere near my baby-making parts. I wouldn’t bear him anything, except failure.
At least, that was what I told myself, forcing down the impending doom that hovered around me like an oppressive
perfume. The truth was, I was screwed.
I could talk a big game in my head, but as the High Alpha had just made crystal clear, I was vastly outnumbered. And more
than that, I was weak. My omega genes made me naturally smaller and softer, and all it would take was one command in an
alpha bark to have me stripping.
It was humiliating to know that when it came down to it, my own body would betray me. I’d strip. Present for him. My
thighs would drip with slick and arousal, and he’d barely have to force himself inside of me. The only saving grace was the
birth control implant my mom had convinced me to get when I was seventeen. It was still good for another year.
When the High Alpha had first decreed he would marry me, he’d had his physician examine me. The thorough exam proved
I was, in fact, still a virgin. But the aging doctor, who’d spent most of his years treating followers in the compound, had no idea
about modern medical implants for birth control. I’d easily convinced him the small bump he felt in my arm was scar tissue
from an old injury I’d sustained as a kid.
Sure, they might get suspicious if I wasn’t knocked up the first year or two, but what was the alternative? Take me to a
hospital for more testing? It wasn’t like the small, dusty clinic had anything more than gauze, sutures, and antibiotics.
Morris cleared his throat and glanced at me, looking like he wanted to say something. But just as quick as the impulse
appeared, it vanished. He looked away, jaw tight and eyes hard.
I wrapped my arms around my middle, my shoulders curling inward as we walked. I barely felt the frigid blast of air that
tumbled down from the mountains to blanket the area. I was numb, my brain already switching into survival mode even as my
gaze darted around, looking for a chance to run.
In front of my shack, Morris drew up short. “Hazel.”
I kept my eyes on the ground, still trying to figure a way out of this mess.
“Hazel.” Morris’s voice cracked with impatience that bordered on desperation.
My head snapped up. “What?”
His green eyes searched my face. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
His apology felt all wrong, like sandpaper on raw nerves. “Don’t apologize. Isn’t this what you wanted? What you all
want?” My voice rose as I spoke, and I knew I sounded slightly hysterical.
“Don’t give up,” he told me, his words so soft, so quiet, I almost missed them.
I gaped at him. “What?”
He didn’t repeat the words as he turned and used a key attached to his belt to unlock the shack. The door creaked open as
he stepped aside to let me in.
“Hazel.”
He waited until I made eye contact, and I almost gasped aloud at the ferocity shimmering in his gaze. “This isn’t over, do
you understand?”
I opened my mouth, confused and unsure, when a soft sob caught my attention. The scent of burnt caramel almost masked the
metallic copper that permeated the air.
Forgetting about Morris and his cryptic words, I stumbled over the threshold, my wide-eyed gaze darting around until I
found the small man curled up in the corner.
“Logan.” His name was a broken plea on my lips as I raced to him. I heard the door close, the lock clicking into place, but
none of that mattered.
Dropping to my knees beside him, I reached out for his fingers. As soon as my skin brushed his, he let out a cry and pressed
harder against the wall, trembling from head to toe.
“Logan, it’s me,” I whispered, my hands balling into impotent fists as I watched him.
The faint smell of bleach tickled my nose, but it still didn’t completely eradicate the stench of my heat. It had seeped into
every pore of the wood, clung to the dingy curtains.
“Logan, please,” I begged, needing my friend. The guy I’d come to think of as a little brother and had definitely been kicked
down the road of life with a helluva lot more aggression. There was something beautiful and sweet about him that demanded he
be protected.
He was small for his age. Part of that was omega genetics, but I knew the other part was due to being severely neglected
most of his life. His dark red hair was still damp, hanging nearly to his shoulders and curling around the edges. Dressed in a
thin white shirt, I could see the dark outlines of bruises on his back.
“Please talk to me,” I tried again, aching to hug him, but knowing he’d reject my touch. Or, worse, be triggered by it.
He hiccuped and turned his face to look at me. One golden brown eye found me. “H-Haze?”
I nodded, tears filling my eyes. There was dried blood around the corner of his mouth.
With a gut wrenching sob, he turned to me fully. I barely had time to process that his other eye was practically swollen shut,
the other corner of his mouth also bleeding, before he hurled himself at me, snot dripping from his nose.
I fell back from the force, and he practically crawled up my body, sobbing.
“I didn’t… I couldn’t… Wanted to… Made me…” His broken words were punctuated by hysterical gasps as my arms
wrapped around him. I rolled us to a half sitting position, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“Shh,” I murmured, stroking his hair. “I’m here now. I won’t⁠—”
… leave you.
I couldn’t finish the lie. Fear coiled in my belly like a viper, threatening to poison me from the inside out. We were running
out of time.
Logan’s head jerked up, his eyes meeting mine as he sniffed, smelling my own sweet scent soured with fear. His good eye
widened. “Oh, shit, Haze. I didn’t even ask you if you were okay.”
I looked over his shoulder, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”
His hand came up, shaking as it touched the bruise blooming on my cheek. “You’re hurt.”
“So are you,” I pointed out.
With a tremulous breath, Logan eased away from me until we were sitting across from one another on the floor. He squared
his shoulders and lifted his chin a notch even as terror pulsed off him in waves I could taste.
“Tell me.”
I couldn’t. Not yet. Saying it made it real.
“You first,” I whispered.
Something in my gaze made him soften. And then tears welled in his eyes all over, but he kept them in check. “Your heat
triggered mine.”
I scooted back until I felt the wall at my back, my heart cracking. “I’m so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured, shaking his head. Sun glinted off the red strands, making his hair look like it was
glowing.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, wanting to hide from the gory details, but ready to listen if he needed me to.
His eyes went flat and a hand fluttered up to his mouth, touching his jaw. “I… I can’t. Not right now.”
My gaze flicked to the dried blood crusting around the edges of his lips. I dipped my head. “High Alpha called a meeting.
He said he’s marrying me tonight. Claiming me in front of everyone.”
 Logan jumped to his feet, wringing his hands. “We have to leave.”
I shot a look at the locked door. “We can’t.”
His breathing quickened, his chest heaving. “When they come for you, I’ll make a distraction. You run for it.”
Now I stood up. “And leave you?” Incredulity saturated my words. “Not a chance.”
He surged forward, grabbing my hands. “Hazel, you have to run. They can’t do to you…” He started shaking so hard his
teeth chattered.
“Logan—”
“I didn’t want to, I swear,” he murmured absently, cutting me off. He shook his head frantically, like it could dispel the
memory that had him ensnared. “But I needed the pain to stop. They—they made me beg for them.” His cheeks pinkened with
humiliation.
“That wasn’t you,” I told him as fiercely as I could. “Just because your body reacted, didn’t mean you wanted it. Or asked
for it. Or whatever other bullshit they’re trying to twist you into believing.”
His eyes shuttered. “But I… I came. Even when they… I still…”
I framed his face with my hands, forcing him to meet my gaze. “It was a normal, physical reaction. I don’t care if you came
a million times or drowned them in your slick, Lo. You did nothing wrong.”
His face crumpled. “I tried to tell them to stop but… Haze, he knotted in my mouth. I couldn’t breathe...”
I grimaced, realizing why there was blood around his lips. The skin had torn as whatever alpha’s knot swelled behind his
teeth, probably prying his mouth open and ripping the skin.
I’d read romance books where omegas and alphas had oral, but the alpha always took care not to overwhelm the omega. It
took a metric ton of trust to willingly have an alpha knot in your mouth, essentially locking you on his dick for the fifteen to
thirty minutes it took for his knot to deflate behind your teeth. It left the omega vulnerable in so many ways. And the omega had
to be calm and in control so as not to panic and fight, potentially injuring themself and their alpha.
“He’ll do that to you, Hazel,” Logan added. “He’ll do that and worse. It won’t be in a small room like where I was. He’ll
want to show his people you’re totally his. You know what a sick fuck he is. Look at Kira.”
Kira. The youngest wife and the one who had been the most willful for years. I’d heard chilling tales of how he’d broken
her in front of the followers, sometimes instructing them to join in so he could watch.
“Haze, you gotta run. Leave me⁠—”
“Not fucking happening,” I growled, the sound more kitten than lioness.
A sad smile twitched on his lips. “You’re my best friend, Hazel. I can’t watch them break you, too.”
“You’re my best friend, too,” I replied, “and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you behind. If we can’t both get out, then we
both stay.”
“Haze…”
“Logan,” I countered, arching a brow.
His shoulders slumped. “It’s never going to end, is it?”
The words crashed against my heart, breaking off another chunk of my soul. “I… I don’t know.”
“Don’t give up.”
Morris’s words were like a haunted echo, ricocheting in my head before they faded away, cutting off completely when the
lock scraped against the tumbler. A moment later, the door was yanked open and Miriam stepped in, a smug sort of glee in her
eyes.
“Time to get you prepared for tonight, omega,” she hissed, holding up the practically sheer dress.
Logan let out a thin, reedy noise. The distressed sound was like fingernails raking down a chalkboard. A shiver skittered
down my spine, goosebumps covering me from shoulders to toes.
“Hazel.” Logan’s hand found mine.
Miriam’s eyes blazed as she stepped into the shack. “Get your filthy hands off of her.”
Having been on the receiving end of Miriam’s fury plenty of times, Logan flinched and let me go. He backpedaled until his
feet tripped over his pallet and he collapsed onto it with a whimper.
“I’ve got this, Logan,” I told him, dragging in a ragged breath. “It’s going to be fine.”
It so wasn’t going to be fine, and I definitely didn’t have this.
 9

Jude

“THIS IS BULLSHIT ,” J ORDAN BITCHED AS WE TURNED DOWN ANOTHER AISLE OF THE GROCERY STORE, PUSHING THE HALF EMPTY
cart as I handled the already filled one. It took a lot to feed the High Alpha’s chosen people.
I swallowed a snort of disgust, one hundred percent over faking my adoration for that sadistic fucking psycho.
The alarm I’d set on my phone chirped and I pulled it from my pocket with a frown before glancing at Jordan. “Beta Mills
needs to add to the order.”
“The fuck?” Jordan scowled at the cart like it had personally offended him. “This is what beta bitches should be doing, but
they’re so fucking stupid they can’t be left alone, so men have to handle it. It’ll be a better world when the High Alpha takes
over.”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, the lie tasting like shit on my tongue. It was more like the High Alpha was paranoid that the female
population of his hellscape would find out life was better outside the walls of the compound and never return.
Jordan grunted in agreement.
I frowned at my phone, an idea sparking. “I’m having a hard time getting reception. I’m gonna run outside and call Mills.
Grab more flour.”
“Fucking flour,” Jordan griped, glaring at a pair of beta women who came down the aisle. “Do you whores know where the
flour is?”
One gasped and the other’s eyes went wide as they stared aghast at him.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to keep walking before I punched his teeth down his throat. The worst part of this job was
acting like I agreed with the bullshit these guys spewed.
Women were put on earth to serve men. Men were the superior sex. Alphas should be worshiped and omegas bartered like
trading cards. It was a beta’s role to maintain the balance while accepting a subservient role to their alpha leaders.
Utter fucking bullshit.
Hurrying outside, I stepped around the corner of the building and opened the encrypted app on the phone, logging in my
password before opening the call center and tapping the first number saved.
“Honeywell Farms,” the chipper voice greeted. “How may I direct your call?”
“This is Agent Jude Morris-Dutton, badge number six-five-delta-four. Connect me with Senior Agent Dutton.”
The voice changed instantly, all business now. “One moment, sir.”
The phone clicked over, and Crew answered on the first ring with a growl. “What the fuck⁠—”
“Plan’s changed,” I cut him off without waiting.
He paused. “Meaning?”
“We have to go tonight,” I replied in a clipped tone, turning to make sure Jordan hadn’t followed me outside. He was as
dumb as a bag of rocks, and I could see the manager kicking his sorry ass out for the way he’d spoken to those women.
He growled again, this time with an edge of pissed-off alpha energy, and the sound almost made me flinch. “What? No.
Jude, we don’t have the resources in place⁠—”
 “Dammit, Crew, we’re fucking doing this tonight,” I snapped, cutting off my CO. Was it a breach of protocol? Technically.
But Crew Dutton was also the leader of my pack, and I was willing to risk his prickly ass forgiving me for the slip.
Besides, I was desperate.
Those big hazel eyes were seared into my mind’s eye.
I wouldn’t let this happen to her. I wouldn’t watch her be broken again, this time irrevocably. It made me sick to know how
long this had gone on, and I couldn’t push it off in the name of the greater good any longer.
Was stopping a homegrown terrorist cult important to the country?
Absolutely.
But I wouldn’t let Hazel pay the price for that. Not any more.
Crew covered the mouthpiece and shouted something, probably to the rest of our team, which, conveniently enough, was
also our pack.
A second later he was back. “Okay, you’re on speaker, Jude.”
I exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose. “That asshole is planning on mating her tonight. He’s got a big fucking
ceremony in the works and the culmination is everyone getting to watch him rape and force-bond her.”
“The fuck?” Kellan exploded. I could practically picture the alpha seething as he paced around the room we used at the
local police department.
When another team from the FBI had gotten word of omegas being illegally trafficked across the Canadian border, they’d
left New York and set up base in Montana. While that case was still ongoing, they’d also stumbled across a bullshit cult that
was dealing in military grade weapons. We’d been pulled in to deal with that case, our teams working together when
necessary.
As the only beta on a team of alphas, I was the only one who could be brought into the cult. It had taken months for me to
work my way into the APA inner circle of beta guards, but when I’d seen a stunning omega being kept prisoner and found out
she was going to be their radical leader’s new bride, I’d almost blown the case.
Yeah, Hazel’s pull had been that strong on me.
I’d been in some shitty, desperate situations in my career with the FBI, but that tiny slip of an omega had me ready to
decimate the career I’d spent years building.
Crew had convinced me to stay on, keeping an eye on her since she wasn’t in immediate danger. There were rumblings of a
nuclear device or dirty bomb in the early stages of being moved from Calgary, and potential nuclear attacks ranked higher than
the needs of a single omega.
It made me sick to know that while I’d been trying to impress the APA High Alpha and his loyal followers, Hazel had been
kept hidden under lock and key, abused and terrorized while I did fucking drills with brainwashed betas who believed an alpha
designation was superior to all else.
Being invited to the upper tier of beta guards meant the High Alpha trusted us with things like supply runs and overseeing
Hazel’s captivity. In the two weeks since I’d seen her, I’d been trying to figure a way to get her the fuck out of the compound
while still trying to do the job I’d been sent in to do.
Today changed everything. No way in hell was I letting that monster defile her again. Not when I could—and would—stop
it.
But I’d need my pack to help. They had to help.
“Fucking hell,” Rhett, the last member of our team and pack, chimed in. The rough edge of his English accent thickened as
he swore.
Crew was silent for a long time. “She isn’t the mission, Jude. The director will never approve us giving up the case for the
life of one omega. Or two, if you count the boy.”
My spine went stiff because yes, I fucking counted Logan. Just because this country, and most of the world, viewed male
omegas as useless didn’t mean they weren’t people with actual emotions. “Are you fucking⁠—”
“Enough,” Crew snapped, his alpha bark silencing me even miles away through a phone.
I rubbed the bite mark on my neck, almost regretting the night I’d let him make me part of the pack. My lips pressed together
in a hard line as I snarled inwardly. I’d never known Crew to abandon an omega. Hell, his baby sister was an omega, and I
knew for a motherfucking fact he never would have let her suffer for even a single day.
Crew was a good man who was put in an untenable situation. He’d sworn an oath to protect his country, and blowing up
our mission might be saving two omegas while costing the world dozens, or even hundreds, more if there really was a rogue
nuke out there.
“Crew,” Kellan tried.
“This isn’t up for debate,” Crew retorted. “Unless you’re challenging me to be the leader of this pack?”
Part of me wanted to challenge him, but it was useless. I was big for a beta, but I’d seen Crew in action. The guy was a
living, breathing weapon and would have me on my back in five seconds flat, and not in the good way.
“Of course we aren’t,” Rhett said, his tone soft and calming. The same tone he used when I went off the rails or Kellan did
something stupid.
“Good,” Crew said with zero inflection. “What time is their ceremony?”
I looked at my watch. “Five hours, give or take a few minutes.” That didn’t give me much time to come up with a plan b.
“That gives us less than three hours to get everyone mobilized,” he muttered, and I could imagine him running a hand
through his short blond hair the way he did when he started to hyper-focus on a plan.
“Mobilized?” I repeated, not sure I’d heard him right.
“Rhett, call Oak’s team. We’ll need them. Has anything changed in the perimeter?”
It took me a second to realize he was asking me. “No. In fact, he’ll probably pull the guards on the wall to watch him…” I
couldn’t say it. Bile rose in my mouth.
“Sunset’s at six fifty-two,” Crew murmured. “We’ll hit then. Can you get the omegas isolated to safety?”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
“Fuck it,” Crew muttered. “We’ll have to go in hard and fast. Jude, do what you can to protect the omegas inside until we
can get to you. Hopefully in the chaos, they’ll be too busy shooting at us to notice them.”
Kellan laughed, the sound dark and ominous. “What happened to the director never agreeing to this?”
Crew snorted. “Fuck that pompous asshole. I never said I was asking for his permission, only that he’d never give it. We’ll
save your omega, Jude.”
My chest swelled as I realized my pack had my back. They trusted me, and were willing to risk their careers over it. I hung
up the phone without a word, setting another alarm for six fifty before stalking back inside to finish the High Alpha’s bidding
one last time.
God, I was going to love putting a bullet in his skull.
Hang on, Hazel. We’re coming.
 10

Rhett

I LOOKED UP FROM THE TABLET ON MY LAP AS CREW STALKED BACK INTO THE MAKESHIFT OFFICE WE’ D SET UP CAMP IN MONTHS
ago. He looked pissed, more so than usual.
Across from me, Kellan dropped his legs from where they’d been kicked up on the table. His long hair was pulled up into
its usual messy bun. “What’d Oak say?”
“He agreed that we need to move tonight,” Crew replied, running a hand through his hair before scrubbing the same hand
across his unshaven jaw.
My shoulders relaxed, a fraction of the tension I felt easing. As an alpha, it was in my DNA to protect any omega. As soon
as Jude had called, I was ready to act. Usually I was the one who sat back and planned things out first, but an omega in distress
wasn’t something I could rationalize.
That, and I was ready for this fucking cult operation to be shut down. I was sick to death of feeling like half of my heart was
in limbo, and my hand was a shitty substitute for Jude. Falling in love with a beta hadn’t been something I’d considered, but
with Jude…
Fuck. There was no denying our chemistry. And I fucking missed him.
It didn’t help that in the few glimpses I’d gotten of him—usually through the lens of a long distance surveillance camera—
he’d looked more stressed and more tense than I’d ever seen. I hated how this case was twisting my fun, jokester beta into
something dark and solemn.
“And Martin?” Kellan asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
Crew frowned at the mention of the Special Agent In Charge of the Billings, Montana office we worked out of. “Fuck no.
He’s at some fucking dinner, and we know he’s aligned with the director and President Anders.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe anyone would keep us from saving an omega.”
Crew’s navy eyes locked on mine. “We all know the director has made some questionable choices lately.”
I leaned back in my chair, considering his words. It was something we’d all discussed more and more. Director Stephens
had stepped into the role barely a year earlier after the former director had an unexpected heart attack. He’d lived, but decided
to retire and spend time with his pack. Stephens was supposed to be a temporary replacement until the President appointed a
new person, but to everyone’s shock, he’d given Stephens the job permanently.
The changes we’d seen so far hadn’t been good.
Well, they weren’t good if you weren’t an alpha.
Stephens subscribed to the “alphas are superior” mentality. He believed betas were little more than necessary pieces on the
chessboard to keep things running in society. Considering betas made up sixty-five percent of the global population, that was
pretty demeaning to the vital roles they played.
Sure, alphas were typically more suited to leadership roles—political, judicial, law enforcement—but betas provided the
foundation on which the world functioned. He’d even tried limiting the number of beta applicants the FBI received. That hadn’t
gone over well and he’d retreated on the issue… for now.
 And then there was the omegas.
While Stephens had never said they were anything less than the miracle they were, at least not in public, he’d made it pretty
goddamn clear that he viewed them as nothing more than pretty gems to be traded and shown off. The few times his pack’s
omega had been seen at events, she’d been silent and somber, standing behind her pack with downcast eyes.
A month ago, a tabloid had snapped a picture of her working in her backyard garden with her sleeves pushed up. Several
questionable bruises raised speculation that all wasn’t well in the director’s pack. Sure, she’d made a statement that she, like
most omegas, was prone to bruising easily and she’d tripped over her child’s toy before tumbling down the stairs. But I knew
finger-shaped bruises when I saw them.
It seemed the more time went by, the greater the divide between alphas grew. Some alphas—everyone in the room included
—believed betas were equally vital and important as alphas, and omegas were more important than us all. Studies had shown
the decline in omegas had a direct, negative impact on the health of a pack. Omegas were the heart and souls of a pack. Without
them, packs devolved and even dissolved, leading to more aggressive alphas and frustrated betas. That correlated with a rise
in violent crimes and the number of incarcerated prisoners.
But there was a steadily growing number of alphas who believed omegas were a resource that needed to be controlled and
utilized. Worse yet, the laws I’d vowed to uphold as a federal agent were slowly changing to reflect that. The election of
President Anders, a man whose platform was dedicated to so-called packreforms, had been a turning point for the United
States. Enough so that I was glad I still held dual citizenship in England.
Not that the Brits were much more enlightened than the Americans. The scarcity of omegas was making alphas, and even
betas to a degree, act in ways that were disgusting. Hoarding omegas like a dragon did treasure.
It was utter bullshit.
Which was why I’d had a feeling Crew wouldn’t bother checking in with the director. It was why Crew was the leader of
our pack. Why we’d all legally changed our last names to match his, signifying to the world that we were a family.
Crew wasn’t just the leader in our unit, but in our lives. We trusted him to make the hard decisions and ultimately, we went
with what he decided.
I was too broody, as Jude liked to say. I had a hard time getting out of my own head space and felt the need to control
everything as much as possible. Kellan, who was too impulsive, and forever inventing ways to stir shit, said it made me an
inflexible ass.
To which Jude would quip that my ass was plenty flexible.
Fuck, I missed him.
So did my ass.
“Rhett?” Crew was staring at me, and I realized I’d missed a question.
I lifted my brows rather than ask him to repeat it.
Crew sighed, not upset, but more concerned. “Anything we need to worry about?”
My gaze dropped to the tablet and the live drone surveillance footage of the compound. I shook my head. “No, Jude’s intel
seems right. There’s increased activity and movement, but everything seems centered on their meeting house. Some of the
guards who usually patrol the wall have already left their posts.”
Crew gave a short, decisive nod. “Make sure you share all this info with Bowen. He’ll be handling coms onsite. I want you
on point with me.”
Kellan flashed me a knowing grin, and another knot of tension unraveled in my chest. I’d been worried I’d be stuck in the
van, monitoring things from the air and ground as the teams went in and rescued the omega and any other victims.
But I needed to be there to make sure Jude was okay. I had to make sure I was as close to him as possible.
Crew circled the table and touched my shoulder. “I know this has been hard on you. Both of you.”
I cleared my throat. “It’s part of the job.” It was the part I hated most, but yeah. Jude and I knew what we’d signed up for
when we’d all pushed to be in the same unit. Not that the FBI was dumb enough to split up packs. Even when a pack didn’t
enter the program together, those that joined by themselves had to undergo extensive personality testing to make sure teams fit.
Usually those teams became a pack, too. The bond was undeniable and made us do our jobs more effectively.
Packed teams were more intune with one another. They were more alert because the stakes were so much higher if someone
was hurt. There was also the added benefit of being able to sense one another’s emotions in the bond.
But Jude and I went beyond a pack bond; he was my mate. Yes, we shared a pack bond with Kellan and Crew, but I’d also
taken him as my beta. I would never be comfortable with him being somewhere that I couldn’t protect him myself.
Crew’s lips twitched. “Doesn’t make it any easier.” His hand squeezed my shoulder. “We’ll all be glad to have him home.”
“Fuck, yes,” Kellan agreed. “Neither of you two can play Call of Duty for shit.”
I stared at him. “We live that shit every day.”
“That’s so factually incorrect that I can’t even begin to⁠—”
“How about you two table the bickering until Jude is back?” Crew suggested, leaning a hip on the table and folding his
arms as he shot us both a look.
 Kellan grinned and locked his fingers behind his head, the tattoos on his forearms and biceps rippling. “Dibs on time with
Jude first.”
“The fuck? You can’t just call dibs on him,” I snapped, irritation licking up my spine. Despite knowing their bond was
decidedly more brotherly than intimate, a low growl rumbled in my throat. As soon as Jude was back, he and I were taking a
long break. I’d already cleared it with Crew, who’d agreed we all needed a rest. He’d even put in the paperwork to take our
team out of rotation. We hadn’t done that in… shit. I didn’t even know.
Kellan’s eyes flashed at the challenge. “Wanna bet? I⁠—”
“Enough!” Crew’s sharp bark pulled us both back. He rubbed the back of his neck, irritation lining his face. “Jesus, I’ll be
glad when he’s back just so I have someone else to help me deal with the two of you. Fucking worse than an old married
couple.”
Kellan scoffed, but stayed quiet. Instead he winked at me, and I rolled my eyes before looking at the time. Tension prickled
up my spine. “When do we leave?”
The smile evaporated from Kellan’s expression, his serious mask slipping into place. I’d never admit it, but it scared the
shit out of me how quickly Kellan could go from frat boy joker to stone cold killer. Didn’t help that the guy made grizzly bears
look small—the biggest of us by a couple inches and easily thirty pounds of muscle.
And Crew and I were in the gym almost every goddamned day.
Crew glanced at his watch. “I want everyone ready to roll in thirty minutes.”
“Fuck yeah,” Kellan grunted, getting up. He twisted his long hair back into a bun with an elastic he always wore around his
wrist.
I nodded and stood as well. “We’ll be ready.”
Crew smirked, making him look like an even cockier asshole than usual. “Let’s go get our beta.”
 11

Hazel

THE MEETING SPACE WAS DECORATED WITH SWATHS OF GAUZY WHITE FABRIC AND CANDLES , GIVING THE RUSTIC SPACE AN ALMOST
charming touch. But there was nothing warm and cozy about the people waiting for me as I walked back over the threshold
hours later.
Okay, more like when I was shoved through the door as I balked at seeing the entire congregation’s eyes on me.
At the front, the High Alpha waited in a white robe, his dark hair slicked back. The smile he gave me was nothing less than
triumphant.
“Walk,” Miriam hissed, her nails digging into my lower back. I barely tamped down the impulse to glare over my shoulder
at the shrew acting as my matron of honor. Behind her, the rest of the wives made up my bridesmaids.
Ha. That was laughable. Traditionally, the bride got to pick her bridal party.
Then again, the bride was also supposed to be able to pick the groom, too.
This wedding was all sorts of messed up.
I shuddered under the watchful eyes of everyone brought in to witness the farce of a celebration. Gulping, my gaze skipped
over the High Alpha to where a table was set up on the dais. It was covered in a white sheet with a simple pillow at one end,
surrounded by pillars of candles.
Bile churned in my stomach, and I wondered if I could put a stop to this farce by throwing up. If ever there was a reason to
postpone a wedding, the bride projectile vomiting on the witnesses had to be it, right?
But then I heard a small whimper. My head snapped to the side, and my heart sank when I saw Logan on his knees in front
of Jared. A collar had been buckled around his throat and was attached to a leash that Jared held. Seeing me watching, he
smirked and gave the leash a vicious yank, jerking Logan backward. He arched a brow at me, making a point that Logan would
pay if I didn’t behave.
My hands curled into useless fists at my sides, and I swallowed down my nerves.
Miriam poked another nail into my spine. “Move, omega.”
My spine went stiff as I took a hesitant step toward the aisle dividing the room. Only men sat in the pews. Women and
children were huddled along the back wall, watching me with a mix of worry, hope, and apathy. Like I was their salvation and
damnation at the same time.
Unable to stop myself, I looked for a friendly face in the crowd. It took a second to spot him in the dim lighting, but my
heart kicked a bit when I spotted Morris down at the front. His eyes pierced through the space, and it took everything in me to
swallow the urge to run to him and beg him to save me.
Don’t be stupid, Hazel, I mentally berated myself. Morris wasn’t my savior; he was just a guy who had treated me a little
less shitty than everyone else in this room. But at the end of the day, he would stand by and watch the High Alpha mark me as
his fifth wife. He’d sit silently in his seat to witness my violation first hand.
Panic fluttered in my chest, my breaths coming in sharp pants. The edges of my vision blurred as I kept marching forward
down the aisle.
Another random document with
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 By this time the man had brought his truck to a stop, a little
distance from the place where Russ had fallen and where the doll
had been lying.
“That was a narrow escape for you, youngster!” exclaimed the
man rather sternly. “You ought not to do things like that!”
“I didn’t want Vi’s doll run over,” explained Russ, as his mother and
sisters hurried toward him.
And while Russ is brushing the dust from his clothing and while Vi
is looking over her doll, to make sure it is all right, I shall take a
moment to let you know who the Bunkers are. And I shall also speak
of the other books in this series telling about them. I think it is much
better to read about people after you know who they are and what
they have done.
The first book introducing the children is called “Six Little Bunkers
at Grandma Bell’s.” At the opening of that story you find the Bunkers
living in Pineville, a Pennsylvania town.
Bunker was the family name, and as there were six children, none
of them very large, it was the most natural thing in the world to speak
of them as the “six little Bunkers.” Of course there was a father and
mother Bunker. Mr. Bunker’s name was Charles, and he was in the
real estate business. His wife was named Amy, and there were a
number of relatives, all of whom loved the six little Bunkers and all of
whom the six little Bunkers loved.
As for the children the eldest was Russ—the one who was just in
such danger. Russ seemed destined to become an inventor, for he
was always making new things—make-believe houses, engines,
automobiles, steamboats and the like. And as he worked he whistled
merrily.
Rose might be called a “little mother,” for she was very helpful
about the house, and Mrs. Bunker often said:
“I don’t know what I’d do without Rose to help look after the
younger children.”
 Violet and Laddie, who were twins, needed much looking after.
They were both rather peculiar. That is, Violet was given to asking
questions. Her father said she could ask more in an hour than could
be rightly answered in a week. As for Laddie, he was fond of asking
riddles such as:
“You can have a house full and a hole full but you can’t keep a
bowl full. What is it?” The answer, of course, is “smoke,” but nothing
gave Laddie more pleasure than to find some one who couldn’t
answer that or some other riddle he asked. Sometimes he made up
riddles himself, or he might ask one that came out of a book. A queer
little chap was Laddie.
Then there was Margy, who was seldom called by her real name
of Margaret, and Mun Bun, otherwise known as Munroe Ford, as I
have mentioned.
Now you have met all the six little Bunkers and I hope you will like
them. As for their aunts, their uncles, their cousins and their other
relatives—well, there are books telling about these different
characters. The children often went to visit their cousins and aunts
and had many adventures.
For instance there is the time they stayed for a while at Aunt Jo’s,
or the occasion of their visit to Cousin Tom’s. They had fun at both
these places, but no more than at Grandpa Ford’s or Uncle Fred’s.
When they spent several weeks at Captain Ben’s the six little
Bunkers had delightful times, and Russ thought there never was
such a chap as Cowboy Jack, at whose ranch they spent some time.
The other children liked Cowboy Jack, too.
Just before the events I am going to tell you about in this book
took place, the children had been down South. You may find out all
that happened by reading the volume, “Six Little Bunkers at Mammy
June’s.” The family was now at home again in Pineville, ready for
more adventures.
“You certainly gave me a fright, boy,” said the truck driver, as he
got down off his high seat and looked at Russ. “Why did you run out
into the road like that?”
 “I wanted to get my sister’s doll,” answered Russ, still brushing the
dust from his clothes.
“Um! Well, don’t do it again—that’s all I ask!” begged the man. “I
was afraid I was going to run right over you!”
“Yes, it was a very dangerous thing for him to do,” said Mrs.
Bunker. “He shouldn’t have tried it. I’m sorry he caused you trouble.”
“Oh, it wasn’t exactly trouble,” said the man, and he smiled a little.
“I was going to stop around here, anyhow. I’m looking for a family
named Bunker. Do you know if they live around here?”
“We’re the Bunkers!” quickly answered Russ. “Anyhow, we’re the
most of ’em,” he added, laughing. “All but daddy and——”
“Oh!” murmured the driver of the truck. “Are there more of you?”
“It is rather a large family,” said Mrs. Bunker. “I have two more
boys.”
“My daddy’s in his office,” volunteered Violet, who was now
satisfied that her doll, Esmeralda, was all right except for a little dirt.
“And Laddie and Mun Bun are digging a hole to China,” added
Margy.
“Oh,” and again the man smiled.
“Are you looking for a Mr. Charles Bunker?” asked Mrs. Bunker.
“That’s the name, yes, ma’am,” the truck driver replied, glancing at
a slip of paper in his hand. “I have a load of flowers for him.”
“Oh, flowers! Is that what’s on your auto?” cried Rose, for the
sides of the truck were covered with canvas and it could not be seen
what it was laden with. Without waiting for an answer, Rose hurried
around to the rear. There she saw a number of pots of flowers and
plants, and, being very fond of them, she reached up to pull nearer
to her the pot closest to the end of the truck.
Perhaps the sudden stopping of the vehicle had made the pot
unsteady, for, as Rose touched it, the pot was upset and rolled out of
the truck toward the little girl.
 “Oh! Oh!” cried Rose.
“What is the matter now?” asked Mrs. Bunker, going around to the
rear of the truck. She was just in time to see a shower of brown earth
from the pot splattering around Rose. The pot fell to the ground and
was broken, the flower in it being knocked out.
“Not much damage done as long as the little girl isn’t harmed,”
said the driver. “I’ve got some extra pots on the truck and I can easily
plant this flower again,” and he picked up the geranium, which was a
pink one in full blossom.
“Let me ’mell!” begged Mun Bun who, with Laddie, had now come
out in the street to see why his mother and the other little Bunkers
were gathered there.
“There isn’t much smell to that geranium,” laughed the driver. “But
I have other flowers that do smell.”
“Are all these for us?” asked Mrs. Bunker, as she saw the mass of
blossoms inside. “Rose, dear, are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“Yes, Mother, I’m all right,” was the answer. “But, oh, where did all
the pretty flowers come from?”
“They’re from Mr. Joel Todd,” answered the driver.
“Farmer Joel?” asked Mrs. Bunker.
“Yes, some folks call him that,” was the reply, and Mrs. Bunker
remembered a rather odd character whom her husband knew. Mr.
Bunker had often spoken of “Farmer Joel,” but had said nothing
about a load of flowers coming from him.
“Did my husband order these?” asked Mrs. Bunker.
“No, I don’t know that he did, exactly,” the driver answered.
“Farmer Joel had more plants than he could use, so he told me to
bring these in to you, as I had to come this way anyhow with a load
of produce.”
“Mother, who is Farmer Joel?” asked Rose, in a whisper.
 “He has a farm about forty miles from here,” answered Mrs.
Bunker. “Your father and I were there some years ago. Farmer Joel
has orchards, bees, flowers, chickens, cows, and horses.”
“Oh, what a lovely place that would be to go to for the rest of the
summer!” exclaimed Rose.
“Could we go there, Mother?” begged Vi.
“I—now—I know a riddle about a horse,” spoke up Laddie. “When
is a boy a little horse?”
“We haven’t time for riddles now, dear,” said his mother. “I must tell
this man where to leave the flowers that Farmer Joel was so kind as
to send us.”
“Well, then I’ll tell you when a boy is a little horse,” went on Laddie.
“It’s when he has a cold.”
“Pooh! Being hoarse when you have a cold isn’t being a horse on
a farm,” declared Rose.
“It’s good enough for a riddle,” replied Laddie. “Oh, I want a ride!”
he cried, as he saw the driver climbing up on his seat after Mrs.
Bunker had pointed out her house.
“No, Laddie! Keep off the truck,” his mother warned him.
“Farmer Joel!” said Russ, in a musing tone as they all turned to go
back home. “I wonder if we could go there?”
“Maybe you’ll have the chance,” his mother said, smiling.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” cried the six little Bunkers in delight.
“But I can’t tell you any more now,” Mrs. Bunker went on. “It’s a
secret!”
 CHAPTER III
THE SECRET

Mrs. Bunker could not have said anything more exciting than the
word “secret” if she had tried for a week. Hearing it, the six little
Bunkers fairly jumped for joy.
“Oh, ho! A secret!” cried Russ.
“Let me guess what it is!” begged Laddie, acting as though he
thought it a riddle.
“Oh, tell me!” cried Rose. “I won’t tell the others, Mother.”
“No, no!” laughed Mrs. Bunker. “When it is time to tell the secret
you shall all know it at once.”
“Is it about us?” asked Violet, with what she thought a cunning air,
hoping she might surprise something of the secret from her mother.
“Yes, it’s about all of you,” was the answer.
“Is it good to eat?” was what Mun Bun wanted to know.
“Yes, the secret is good to eat,” answered Mrs. Bunker, with
laughing eyes, as she looked at Farmer Joel’s truck driver.
“Is it good to play with?” was the question Margy asked.
“Yes, it’s good to play with, too,” said her mother.
This set all the six little Bunkers to guessing, and they named first
one thing and then another, but Mrs. Bunker only shook her head,
laughed, and told them they would have to wait to find out about the
secret.
“You’ve got your hands full with those youngsters, I can see that,”
chuckled the truck driver, who had said his name was Adam North.
“They must keep you busy.”
 “They do. But they are good children,” Mrs. Bunker said, while
Rose was murmuring:
“I can’t think what kind of a secret it can be that you can eat and
play with. Can you, Russ?”
“Not unless it’s a candy cane—the kind we used to get for
Christmas,” he answered.
“Oh, it couldn’t be that!” quickly declared Rose. “Mother wouldn’t
make a secret about a candy cane. I think it must have something to
do with this Farmer Joel.”
“Maybe,” agreed Russ. “But I have to go into the house and brush
my clothes. I didn’t think they were so dusty. It’s like sliding for first
base when you’re playing ball.”
By this time the six little Bunkers in charge of their mother were
ready to walk back toward their house. They made a pretty picture
as they stood in the street, Mun Bun and Margy were first, side by
side, and holding hands as the two youngest generally did. Then
came the twins, Violet and Laddie, next largest in size, and back of
them were Rose and Russ, while Mrs. Bunker came behind the two
oldest, smiling at her “brood,” as she sometimes called them,
pretending they were hungry chickens.
“Well, we’re generally hungry all right,” Russ would say with a
laugh when his mother spoke thus.
“I suppose we look like a procession, don’t we?” asked Mrs.
Bunker of Adam North, as he prepared to start his truckload of
flowers.
“Well, a little, yes,” he agreed, with a laugh. “But it’s a mighty nice
procession. I guess Farmer Joel wishes he had one like it.”
“That’s so, he has no children, has he?” remarked Mrs. Bunker.
“It’s been some time since I have seen him, and I thought perhaps
he might have married.”
“No,” went on Mr. North, while the six little Bunkers listened to the
talk, wondering, the while, what the wonderful secret might be.
“Farmer Joel is still a bachelor. He lives with his sister Miss Lavina.
She keeps house for him, you know.”
“Oh, yes, I know Lavina Todd very well,” said Mrs. Bunker. “She
and I were old chums. We went to school together when we lived in
the same country town as girls. But that was quite a number of years
ago, and I thought Farmer Joel might have married in all that time.”
“No—old bachelor,” replied Adam North. “But he’s the kindest,
jolliest soul you’d want to meet and he loves children. That’s why I
say he’d like a procession like yours. Now then, where do you want
these flowers? I’ve got quite a load of ’em.”
“Indeed you have a wonderful load of blossoms,” said Mrs.
Bunker. “It was very kind of Farmer Joel to send them. But I’m afraid
I can’t set them out all alone.”
“Oh, I’ll stay and help you plant the flowers,” offered Adam North,
who was something of a farmer and gardener himself. “Mr. Todd said
I was to do that. I’ve got to stay, anyhow, to see Mr. Bunker. He’ll be
home soon, I expect.”
“Yes, he’ll come home to supper,” replied Mrs. Bunker. “I hope you
can stay and have a meal with us,” she added.
“Well, I might—yes,” was the slow answer. “In fact, I was going to
stay over at the hotel all night, as it’s a long ride back to Cedarhurst,
and I don’t like to drive the truck after dark if I can help it.”
“Oh, then you can stay at our house,” quickly said Mrs. Bunker.
“We’d be delighted to have you. There is plenty of room.”
“And you can tell us about the farm,” added Rose.
“And about the bees,” added Mun Bun. “Does they sting?”
“Sometimes,” laughed Mr. North.
THE CHILDREN HELPED AS MUCH AS THEY COULD.
 Six Little Bunkers at Farmer Joel’s. (Page 31)

“And tell us about the cows and chickens,” begged Laddie. “I know
a riddle about—now—about a cow, only I can’t think of it.”
“Maybe it’s the cow that jumped over the moon,” joked Mr. North.
“No, it isn’t that,” Laddie answered. “Maybe I’ll think of it after a
while.”
“I’d like to hear about the horses,” suggested Violet. “How many
horses does Farmer Joel have and do they ever run away and did
they ever run away with you and did you get hurt and are there any
little horses? I don’t believe they’d run away, would they? And if a
horse runs away does he run back again and——”
“Violet! Violet!” cried her mother. But the little girl had stopped
herself, for she was out of breath.
“Does she often get spells like that?” asked Adam North, with a
laughing look at Mrs. Bunker.
“Sometimes,” was the smiling answer. “But generally she asks her
questions one at a time. I don’t know what made her take such a
streak. But come, children, I want to get these flowers set out before
daddy comes home. Come along.”
“We can plant some in the hole we dug,” said Laddie.
“No! No!” cried Mun Bun. “That’s a hole to China and we don’t
want any flowers in it!”
“Easy, Mun Bun! Don’t get so excited,” soothed Russ. “Maybe the
people in China would like some of these flowers.”
“Oh, all right. I give some flowers to Chiweeze,” agreed Mun Bun.
By this time the truck had rolled into the driveway of the Bunker
home, and the family of children and their mother soon followed. The
doll, which had been the cause of so much excitement, and not a
little trouble, was put in the house where no wandering dog could
carry her off again. Then Adam North began unloading the pots of
flowers, some of which needed to be set out in the ground to make
them grow better.
It was toward the end of spring, with summer in prospect and just
the time to start making a flower garden, Mr. North said. Farmer Joel
raised many kinds of plants and blossoms, his sister Miss Lavina
Todd helping him. They had so many that it had been decided to
send some to Mr. Bunker.
“But I never thought he could spare all these,” remarked Mrs.
Bunker, when she saw the geraniums, the begonias, the four-
o’clocks, the petunias, the zinnias, the marigolds and many other
kinds of “posy-trees,” as Mun Bun called them.
“Oh, yes, we have more flowers at Cedarhurst than we know what
to do with,” said Adam North, as he began setting out the blossoms.
The children and Mrs. Bunker helped as much as they could, but
except for what Russ, Rose and Mrs. Bunker did there was really not
much help. For Violet, Margy, Mun Bun and Laddie would start to dig
a hole in which to set out a plant, then they would forget all about it
in running to see a new kind of blossom that was taken from the
truck.
So it was that there were a number of half-dug holes about the
garden, with nothing planted in them. But Adam North knew his
business well, and soon he had turned the formerly dull Bunker yard
into a veritable flower-show, with bright blossoms here and there.
“Now if you’ll just give ’em a little wetting down with the hose so
they won’t wilt, they’ll come up fresh and strong by morning,” he
said, when the last plant was set out.
“I’ll use the hose!” offered Russ.
“I’ll help!” said Rose.
“So will I!” cried the other four little Bunkers. Using the hose was
something they all delighted to do.
“No, my dears,” said Mrs. Bunker firmly. “Russ will do the
sprinkling and all the others must come in and get washed ready for
supper. Daddy will soon be home and then——”
 “Will you tell us the secret?” asked Rose.
“I think so—yes,” was the reply, and this gave the smaller children
something to think about so they did not mind not being allowed to
use the hose.
“I wouldn’t dare let them take turns wetting the new plants,” said
Mrs. Bunker to Adam. “Russ is all right, but the others would shower
every one passing in the street.”
“I reckon so, and wash out all the new plants besides,” chuckled
Farmer Joel’s hired man. “And now,” he went on, “since you have
been so kind as to ask me to stay to supper and remain all night, I’d
like to wash up myself. I’m pretty dirty,” he added, with a laugh, as he
looked at his grimy hands, for he had been delving in the dirt to set
out the flowers.
“Come with me,” said Mrs. Bunker. “And, Russ,” she added, “be
careful about the hose. Don’t spray on any people who may be
passing.”
“I’ll be careful,” he promised.
Ordinarily when Russ used the hose all the other little Bunkers
stood around anxiously waiting for their turn. But now, with the
prospect of hearing a secret, they went willingly to the bathroom and
soon were as shining as soap and water could make them.
Adam, as the children soon began to call him, for he was very
friendly, ran the big truck up alongside the garage, as there was not
room for it inside. Then, after he had washed and prepared for
supper, he went out to see that Russ did not spray too much water
on the newly set out plants.
Norah, the cook, had supper almost ready and Adam had told
Russ enough water had been used when the boy, looking down the
street, saw his father approaching.
“Here comes daddy!” he cried.
Mr. Bunker waved his newspaper and as he reached the gate and
saw the visitor a pleasant smile came over his face and he cried:
 “Well, Adam North! Glad to see you! How’s Farmer Joel?”
“Right hearty! I brought you those flowers.”
“That’s good! Hello, Russ! How’s everything here?”
“All right, Daddy!”
“Daddy! Daddy!” came in a chorus from the other little Bunkers,
and their father was overwhelmed in a joyous rush.
“What’s the secret?”
“Tell us the secret!”
“Can Mother tell us the secret now?”
These were only a few of the words Mr. Bunker heard as he was
hugged and kissed.
“Secret?” he exclaimed, looking at Adam. “What secret?”
“Oh, you know!” laughed Rose. “It must be about Farmer Joel!”
“Oh, that!” chuckled Mr. Bunker. “Yes, the secret is about him,” he
admitted. “But how did you all know it?”
“There’s been a lot of excitement in the last hour,” said Adam. “I
nearly ran over a doll, just missed smashing Russ, and there’s a
secret in the air. Oh, nobody’s hurt,” he quickly added, for he saw
that Mr. Bunker looked a little alarmed at the mention of what had so
nearly been an accident.
“That’s good,” said Daddy Bunker.
“The secret! The secret!” begged the children.
“All right. Come into the house and I’ll tell you the secret,” he
promised.
With whoops of delight, in trooped the six little Bunkers.
 CHAPTER IV
WHERE IS LADDIE?

“Supper is all ready, Daddy! We’ll sit right down,” called Mother
Bunker, as the happy crowd entered. “I see you have already met
Farmer Joel’s man,” she added, nodding and smiling.
“Oh, yes, Adam and I are old friends,” Mr. Bunker said. “And I’m
glad supper is ready, for I’m hungry. Let me see now——”
“The secret! The secret!”
“You promised to tell us the secret!”
“Tell us now!”
“Don’t wait until after supper!”
Thus cried the six little Bunkers.
“Quiet, children! Please be quiet!” begged their mother. “What will
Adam North think of you?”
“Oh, let ’em go on! I like it!” chuckled the truck driver.
“I think perhaps I had better tell the secret,” said Mr. Bunker. “It is
the only way we shall have any peace and quiet. Now all of you sit
down to the table,” he ordered, “and when you can compose
yourselves I will tell you what I have to say.”
It took some little time for all of the six little Bunkers to get quiet,
but finally each one was sitting nicely in his or her chair, with their
father at one end of the table and their mother at the other, Adam
having a place next to Mr. Bunker.
“Now,” said Mr. Bunker, when all was quiet, “in order that you will
not eat too fast, to get through supper quickly to hear the secret, I
am going to tell it to you now.”
“Oh, I can hardly wait!” murmured Rose.
 “What is it?” asked Violet.
Then came a moment of eager, anxious waiting.
“We are all going to spend the summer at Farmer Joel’s,” said Mr.
Bunker suddenly.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” came the murmurs of delight. Mrs. Bunker, with
laughter shining in her eyes, looked at the happy faces around her.
“They sure will have fun out there!” said Adam.
“Do you really mean it?” asked Russ. “Are we going?”
“Surely,” said his father. “Farmer Joel’s sister, who has been
keeping house for him, is going away on a visit. When he told me
this he said he didn’t know what he was going to do, as he didn’t
want a strange woman coming in to look after the place. Then I said I
would bring my six little Bunkers up there and they would keep
house for him.”
“Did you really say that, Daddy?” Rose asked eagerly.
“I surely did.”
“Well, I can keep house a little bit,” Rose went on. “But to cook for
a farmer——”
Rose began to look worried, so her mother said:
“You won’t have to do it all alone. I am going with you, and so is
Norah, and we’ll see that Farmer Joel doesn’t get hungry.”
“Oh, if mother is coming it will be all right,” said Violet.
“Fine! Yes!” cried the other little Bunkers. You can see they
thought a great deal of their mother.
“So that is how it came about,” went on Mr. Bunker. “Farmer Joel’s
sister is going away on a long visit—to remain all summer. We are
going up there to live on his farm.”
“And can I help get in the crops?” asked Russ, who liked to be
busy.
 “Yes, we’ll all help,” his father promised. “I think you need a lot of
help on a farm in summer, don’t you, Adam?” he asked.
“That’s right,” answered Farmer Joel’s hired man. “The more help
we have the better. I’m pretty well rushed myself in the summer.”
“And can we see the horses?” asked Violet.
“And the cows?” came from Laddie.
“And the sheep?” Mun Bun wanted to know.
“And the apple trees?” asked Margy.
“I’d like to see the bees make honey,” remarked Rose, who,
herself, was often as busy as any bee.
“You shall see everything there is to see,” promised Daddy Bunker.
“There! Now you know the secret. We are going off to Farmer Joel’s
for the summer, and I think we shall have a fine time. Now eat your
suppers!”
And the six little Bunkers did.
After supper there was more talk about going to the farm, and Mr.
Bunker said:
“I have been talking with Adam, and this seems the best way to
go. Cedarhurst, where Farmer Joel lives, is about forty miles from
here. It is not on any railroad, so we shall need to go in the
automobile. As our car is hardly large enough to take us all and the
trunks we shall need this is what we can do.
“Adam and I will ride to Cedarhurst in the big auto truck that
brought the flowers. In that we can also take the baggage—the
trunks of clothes and the like. The children can also ride in the truck
with me. We’ll fill it full of straw.”
“Oh, that will be fun!” cried Russ.
“A regular straw ride!” added Rose.
“But what about mother?” asked Violet. “Is she going in the truck
with us?”
 “Your mother and Norah will drive up in our own touring car,” said
Mr. Bunker.
“When can we go?” asked Russ.
“In a few days,” his father answered.
“Then I won’t bother to make the seesaw here,” went on Russ. “I’ll
save the nails and take them to Farmer Joel’s.”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Rose. “We can make a lovely teeter-
totter up there, and have lots of fun.”
In the early evening, after supper, not much was talked of by the
six little Bunkers but the coming visit to Farmer Joel’s. Mrs. Bunker,
who had been to the farm some years before with her husband, told
the children about it. There were many places where they could have
fun, she said.
The evening was passing. Mun Bun and Margy, in spite of their
hard work to keep awake, were fast falling asleep, their little heads
nodding from side to side and their eyes closing.
“It’s time they were in bed!” cried Mrs. Bunker, when she finally
noticed them. “It’s long past their hour. And Laddie and Vi, too! They
must go to bed!”
“I’ll carry up Mun Bun,” offered Mr. Bunker.
“And I’ll take Margy,” said Adam, for both the smallest children
were now asleep.
“Come, Vi,” suggested her mother. “You and Laddie can go up by
yourselves.”
“Laddie isn’t here,” said Violet.
“He isn’t? Where is he?” asked her mother. “Perhaps he has fallen
asleep in a corner of the porch,” for they were sitting out on the
piazza talking over the coming visit to Farmer Joel’s.
“No, he isn’t here,” went on Violet. “He got up and walked off a
little while ago.”
 “Then I guess he went up to bed by himself,” said Mr. Bunker, as
he went into the house carrying Mun Bun, while Adam followed with
Margy. “I’ll see if he’s in his room,” he added to his wife.
But a little later, when Mr. Bunker called down: “Laddie isn’t up
here!” there was some excitement.
“Where can he be?” asked Mrs. Bunker.
“Maybe he’s out in the yard trying to catch lightning bugs,”
suggested Rose, for she and Russ were to be allowed to remain up
a little later than the smaller children.
“It’s too early for lightning bugs,” replied Mrs. Bunker. “Where can
the child have gone? Laddie! Laddie!” she called, raising her voice.
“Where are you?”
But the only sound was the singing of the frogs down in the pond
—that is, if you call the noise the frogs make “singing.” There was no
answer from Laddie.
“He may have wandered down into the garden, to look at some of
the flowers you set out,” suggested Mr. Bunker.
“He couldn’t see flowers in the dark,” objected Mrs. Bunker.
“He might if he took a flashlight,” said Russ. “Maybe that’s what he
did. I’ll go and look for him.”
“I’ll come and help you,” offered Adam.
But a search through the garden and more calling of Laddie’s
name brought no answer from the little fellow.
“Where can he have gone?” exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. “I’m afraid
he’s lost.”
 CHAPTER V
OFF TO THE FARM

Mr. Bunker saw that his wife was growing a little alarmed over
Laddie’s absence, so he said:
“Now don’t worry, we’ll find Laddie.”
“I’ll help you look for him,” said Adam. “He can’t have gone very
far.”
“Maybe he fell asleep in the summer-house,” suggested Russ, for
at the end of the garden was a rustic summer-house, or pavilion, in
which the children sometimes played. But Laddie was not there.
“Could he have fallen into the brook?” asked Rose.
“If he did, all that could happen would be that he got wet,” her
father answered, with a laugh.
“And if Laddie fell into the brook I guess he’d yell and we would
hear him,” Rose said, nodding her head.
“’Tisn’t very deep, anyhow,” added Russ.
They looked farther in the garden for Laddie and called his name,
but there was no answer. Mr. Bunker was just beginning to get
worried when the telephone in the house suddenly rang.
“Maybe that’s some news of him!” exclaimed the mother of the
missing little fellow. She started toward the telephone, but Laddie’s
father reached it first.
“Hello! Hello!” called Mr. Bunker into the telephone.
The others listened to what he had to say.
“Yes! Yes,” he went on. “Oh, then he’s all right. I’m glad of that.
Thank you! Yes, I’ll be right down after him.”
 “Evidently it’s about Laddie?” said Mrs. Bunker in a questioning
voice.
“Yes,” answered her husband, as he hung up the receiver. “Laddie
is in the police station.”
“The police station!” cried Russ.
“Is he arrested? What for?” Rose queried wonderingly.
Daddy Bunker laughed, which let them all know it could not be
very serious.
“What is it?” asked his wife.
“As nearly as I can make out,” said Mr. Bunker, “Laddie wandered
away from here and went to the police station about some riddle.”
“A riddle!” cried Adam North. “Good gasoline! That boy must
dream of riddles!”
“I sometimes think he does,” sighed his mother. “But what sort of
riddle is it this time?” she asked her husband.
“The officer at the police station didn’t just know,” was Mr. Bunker’s
answer. “He said they had Laddie there and asked me to come and
get him, as they didn’t want to send him home with a policeman for
fear the neighbors would think something had happened. As nearly
as I can make out, Laddie must have thought of a riddle and have
gone to the police station to see if any one could guess it.”
“Why didn’t he ask one of us?” his mother wanted to know. “He
generally does ask us first.”
“We’ll find out all about it when I bring him home,” replied Mr.
Bunker. “I’ll go right after him.”
“Will you take the car?” asked Mrs. Bunker.
“Yes, I think I’d better. Laddie may have fallen asleep, and he’s
pretty heavy to carry.”
“I’ll go with you,” offered Adam, and soon they were at the police
station.