Ever since I was a kid, mom told me I was a beta. “You come from a long line of betas, Mags, and that’s the best place to be. Remember: omegas are slaves to their designation.
As a beta, you’re free.” Imagine my surprise, then, when all the tests came back conclusive: Omega.
Now I’m doing my best to hide what I am, slinking from pack to pack as a beta for hire and dodging my fate.
Along with my best friend Kip, his twin brother Kaden, and Nik, an alpha with a chip on his shoulder, we grift the elite West Coast packs of all they’re worth, milking them dry before moving on.
It’s a comfortable enough life, but I can’t shake the feeling that my days of freedom are numbered. How long can I keep up the act? How long until the grift falls apart?
