Page 1 of For All My Effort
Chapter One
Every protest I’d ever been to was different. My first was a simple march down the street leading to the private road of the local Omega Compound. I had also held signs outside of buildings where terrible decisions were being made, chanted in circles, worn a dog collar around my neck and tape over my mouth—my favorite.
I’d been protesting since the day I bloomed into an omega at thirteen and was forcibly admitted into the local Omega Compound for my supposed protection. Just playing in the snow, the proud thirteen-year-old that I was and bragging to my friends that I’d already gotten my period and designation.
I had no idea who had called the OC, still didn’t, since that information was considered sensitive. But I remembered begging my parents, my friends, anyone to save me. No one did. Even as the workers told me I was safe, that it was simply my hormones making me act out, I knew that what was happening was wrong.
They told me all about alpha ruts, something uncontrollable in the more dominant designation that was only triggered by an unbonded omega. For my safety, I needed to be taken away. To me, it had always seemed like an alpha problem.
My body went into heat, but I wasn’t dangerous. Alphas were.
Omegas were the ones taken from our families, pulled out of schools to learn how to be a proper omega. It was all bullshit. How to nest, how to cook, how to nurse, and watch children. All the things that supposedly came naturally, yet we had to learn.
Just the idiocy of that thought had me snorting out loud, breaking up the awkward silence of the sit-in.
A sit-in didn’t feel nearly as effective as all the other protests I’d been a part of. Honestly, it was boring, not speaking, holding myself still. I preferred the protests where I could yell, my throat aching for the next few days from screaming so loud I’d lost my voice. The only reason I kept my ass firmly planted on the cold hard tile flooring of the restaurant was for the sole reason that I believed in the stance we were taking.
Omegas’ rights were already limited. We weren’t allowed to live on our own, needing to be bonded to alphas in order to move out of the OC. Higher education was basically impossible since the institutes never accepted omegas on the idiotic basis of our heats forcing us to miss too many of the classes. And of course, there was the fact that we needed a chaperone if we left our homes. Alphas were dangerous to omegas—that much I agreed with.
The restaurant we were protesting in was owned by an up-and-coming politician. The alpha—because of course it was an alpha—claimed society needed more protective stances for omegas. Specifically, he wanted to age omegas out of the OC, forcing them to bond with alpha packs to help them through heats after a certain age.
Considering his pack didn’t have an omega yet, it was easy enough to see his true intentions.
That was why I, and this random group of betas, had shown up eight hours ago, immediately at the restaurant’s opening, taking up all the seats, including the floor space, and refusing to move or order. Despite never having met the group before, my natural designation meant I knew I was the only omega. Fortunately, that also meant I was able to participate since an alpha would have been able to detect my omega perfume.
Just the thought of some strange alpha scenting me made my perfume spike in agitation. I forced myself to take a deep breath, ignoring the cold bite of air down my throat from the rapidly lowering air-conditioned room attempting to force us out.
I thought of my own alphas—Jackson, Sebastian, Han, and Zeke. They rescued me from the OC two years ago. I’d already loved them when I decided to bond with them. When they learned my secret, and wanted to help me? I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with them, happily.
My mates were anxiously waiting for me on the other side of the shopping complex this restaurant was located in. When this protest eventually got shutdown, I’d make my way to them.
I wasn’t supposed to be out alone. That crime alone would get me sent back to the OC, potentially taken away from my mates. Hiding my designation was usually possible among betas since their ability to smell perfumes, designations, and heightened emotions was weaker.
The front door swung open, making me jump, and revealing the exact reason I never made it to the end of the protest. Peace officers.
Dressed in protective gear around their chests and backs, their job was all about designation handling in public. Usually, that meant pulling alphas out of public ruts, stopping alphas from bullying betas, even pulling freshly perfumed thirteen-year-old omegas from their homes.
Since more protests had been popping up, they were the ones answering the call.
They were usually a mix of alphas and betas, which meant my time was officially up when they arrived. Outside, I was usually safe long enough to run the planned route as soon as they showed up. Inside, it would take a bit of finesse to manage not getting arrested as they blocked the only exit.
“Okay, folks,” one of the officers said, already sounding bored. “You’ve made your point. Now it’s time to leave.”
No one moved, but my muscles tensed.
This was my least favorite part. No matter the good I felt like I was doing by showing up for the cause, I never got to follow through. When the peace officers showed, I took that as my opportunity to leave.
It was a compromise. Commit to the amount that meant I could go home every night and be with my mates. Even if it meant I didn’t make the grand declaration I always wanted. To be the first omega arrested. To prove that omegas weren’t happy with the way things were.
Even my best friend, Koda Tucker, was doing more. She was an omega who somehow presented as a beta, meaning she was able to attend college, and actually get a degree. And she had bonded with a pack of alphas. The girl was getting knotted and educated in the same week.
The same peace officer sighed, adding, “Anyone still on the premises that’s not an employee or is unwilling to purchase food, will find themselves in a cell overnight and charged.”
I wish they’d given me more time. In my own mind, I had refused to get up. In my mind, I’d seen the inside of the cell or the center without fear. Only, I couldn’t get myself to risk my pack.
Here I was, at a protest, slowly standing up. Around me, I heard the mutters of the betas who thought of me as weak for leaving.
The entire restaurant watched me move, step by step closer to the door. I could scent at least seven peace officers, almost all of them betas. Except one. They didn’t fully move out of the way of the door, attempting to force me to walk between the two rows they’d created in order to leave.