Page 56 of The Devil Takes

“It’s not often I have second-generation omegas that haven’t been at least taught the basics of their anatomy.” She shook her head. “Your mother should’ve gone over all of this with you before you presented.”

“Why would she do that?” It didn’t make sense. No one had known I was an omega until I’d gotten slick and Dad had thrown me in the basement. Dr. Reynolds was staring at me, clearly confused as well, her head cocking as she tried to get a read on me.

“Your mother really never told you about any of this?” There was pity in her voice.

“Why would she?” It didn’t make sense. “She died before I presented.”

Reynolds blinked, shifting uncomfortably the way people always did when you told them your parents were dead. Like they didn’t know what to do. Like they didn’t know what to say, or how to treat you. I just glared at her, even though the room was spinning, spinning, spinning again.

“My apologies,” she murmured gently.

It still didn’t make sense, though. Why would my mom be educating me about my “anatomy” before I’d presented?

“No. Wait.” I shook my head. “What was that other thing you said? About…you know. Second-generation, or whatever?”

Dad had always told me Mom was a beta.

“You mean…” I inferred, “my mom was an omega?”

Reynolds nodded, confirming her earlier words.

“It…says that?” I asked, and she nodded again.

“It’s listed on your medical records.”

“Can I see?”

She held the chart out to me, showing me the top of the page where my mother’s and father’s names lay side by side, the symbol of their designations beside them. Omega. Alpha.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

Why would he lie about that?

How could I not have known?

“What did you mean? When you said she should’ve talked to me?” I asked, because it still didn’t make sense. None of this did. Even if she was an omega, like it said, and Dad had lied to my fucking face—which wasn’t that surprising—she still couldn’t have known how I’d present.

“Oh.” Reynolds blinked. “It’s customary for parents to let their children know information like this before their presentation, so they’re more prepared. Bond sickness and abuse of suppressants are more common than you’d think.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” I glared at her. “How would they know my designation before I presented?”

Her face twisted with pity again, the expression making me sick all over. “That’s one of the first things tested during pregnancy,” she said gently. “It’s been a standard part of procedure for nearly a hundred years.”

A hundred years?!

A hundred years they’d been running tests to figure out if babies were alphas, betas, or omegas before birth. Did that mean…did that mean that they’d known? That all along—all along…my dad had known?

From the moment I was pretty much conceived?

So why…

I thought back on my childhood. The way he’d treated me. The way my whole world had flipped on its head the moment I’d had my first heat. But no…no. As I searched through my memory, I realized that was all wrong.

He hadn’t started mistreating me after presenting.

It had been before that, long before.