Page 29 of Unhinged Alphas

I stride from the office, my boots ringing against the polished marble floor. The secretary looks up as I pass, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Commander Hargrove? Is everything alright?"

I force a tight smile, the muscles of my face feeling stiff and unnatural. "Fine. Just remembered something I need to take care of. Tell my father I'll have to reschedule lunch."

I don't wait for her response, don't trust myself not to betray the tempest of emotions churning inside me. I just keep walking, my pace quickening with every step until I'm all but running, desperate to put as much distance between myself and this place as possible.

Ivy.

The thought of her, of what she's endured at the hands of the Center, at the hands of men like my father... it's like a knife to the gut. A searing, twisting agony that threatens to bring me to my knees.

I didn't even know her then, but I feel like I failed her. Failed to protect her, to keep her safe from the monsters that lurk in the shadows of this twisted world we live in.

But no more. I won't let them hurt her again.Won't let them use her, break her, turn her into just another pawn in their sick little games. I'll keep her safe, no matter the cost.

And I'll save every omega like her, too. Even if it means burning everything I've ever known to the ground.

Even if it means going up against my own father.

Chapter

Eight

IVY

The compound is eerily quiet as I slip out of my room, my bare feet padding softly against the cold concrete floor. The others are gone, save for Whiskey and Wraith, off on whatever secret mission they've deemed too dangerous for me to know about. Even Whiskey, my usual shadow, is nowhere to be seen.

I strain my ears, listening for any sign of movement, but all I hear is the distant sound of Whiskey's snores echoing from the alphas' barracks. A small smile tugs at my lips despite myself. For all his bravado and bluster, the man sleeps like a hibernating bear.

I know I should probably just stay in my room, keep my head down and avoid drawing anyunwanted attention. But the walls are starting to close in on me, the weight of my own thoughts and memories pressing down until I feel like I can't breathe.

I need to move, to do something,anythingto keep the darkness at bay.

So I wander, my steps taking me deeper into the heart of the compound. It's a sprawling maze of corridors and rooms, most of them locked tight against intrusion. I try the handle of Plague's infirmary, more out of idle curiosity than any real expectation, but it doesn't budge.

I'm not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

Eventually, I find myself in the large, open space of the training room. Mats cover the floor, and an impressive array of weights and exercise equipment lines the walls. It's a far cry from the cramped, dingy cells of the Refinement Center, where the only physical activity we were allowed was whatever labor they deemed necessary for our "rehabilitation."

I flip the lights off on my way out and continue down the corridor until I reach the study Thane is usually holed up in. The spot he holds most of the meetings they don't want me listening in on. My gaze is drawn to a small alcove tucked away in thecorner, and I feel my eyebrows climb in surprise. It's a library, or at least a passable imitation of one. Shelves line the walls, crammed with an eclectic mix of books and manuals.

I drift closer, my fingers trailing over the spines as I read the titles. Most of them are propaganda from the Council, extolling the virtues of the "proud nation" of Reinmich and the importance of maintaining order at any cost. Others are dense tomes on military strategy and tactics, the pages dog-eared and worn from frequent use.

But there, tucked away on the bottom shelf, is a slim volume that catches my eye. I pull it out, a wry smile tugging at my lips as I read the title.

The Omega: A Comprehensive Guide to Biology and Behavior.

I flip it open, scanning the pages with a sort of morbid fascination. It's outdated, filled with the kind of pseudoscientific nonsense that's been used to justify the oppression of omegas for generations. But it's clear that someone has been studying it, making notes in the margins and highlighting key passages.

Preparing for me.

I roll my eyes.

They're trying, in their own fumbling, misguidedway. Trying to understand me, to figure out how to deal with the strange creature that's been thrust into their midst.

It's more than anyone at the Center ever did.

I can't help but be amused and a little frustrated that there are entire books written about omegas while the Council doesn't even want us to read. At the Center, we attended classes on how to build a nest, how to knot, how to cook, how to care for the offspring we were expected to churn out, but it was all oriented around how to please an alpha. Never about understanding ourselves. Because, after all, inthisworld, omegas only exist for alphas.