Brielle

They're All Wrong

"I wish you would've let me pick you out something more," my mom looked over me and frowned. "Festive."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. 

The Calling was one of the biggest events in a wolf's life. Most of the time, the fifteen-year-old wolf would dress up in a ball gown or tuxedo. They'd dance their way from their house to the Pack House with music blaring and people cheering them on along the way. They'd stop and hug their friends. Laugh at small stories. Some passed out sparklers to light the way. Some passed out bubbles to be blown into the wind. Others passed out confetti or rose petals to be thrown in their path. A photographer followed them taking professional pictures of the day. If they knew who their mate was, the mate would take the journey with them.

Always at the end of the parade was the throne room where the Alpha would announce the wolf's destiny. Usually, it was the same destiny as the parents. Beta's sons became Betas. Solider's sons became soldiers. Merchant's sons became merchants.

But I was different. My father was the Leader of Defense for the Pack. If I were anything but an Omega, I would've taken his place. Instead, I dishonored my family as a weakling. My parents were ashamed of me. My father hadn't spoken to me in years. My mother only reminded me of what a loser I was.

When the wolf bowed down at the Calling the Alpha would talk about their duty to the Pack. He'd make a speech, give them their title, and then announce it was time for the banquet. For the only time in most wolves' lives, they'd take their seat at the right hand of the Alpha. The wolf would engorge themselves and drink themselves stupid.

Then, at the stroke of midnight, the party would file outside. The human would change into their wolf form. The alcohol made it less painful. They'd run and play into the morning and then start their official training.

I would be at the Pack House cleaning up my own banquet.

Thrilling stuff.

I looked at my black dress. It was simple. No frills. No slit. No plunging neckline. Just a simple black dress. My shoes I got from a second-hand store and looked like they belonged to a grandmother fifty years ago. But they were comfortable as heck and I knew the cheap shoes the Luna would give me would fall apart in a week or two. Every house servant warned me to get some comfortable shoes and save those twenty dollars for a new pair every six months.

For an Omega, comfort beats out beauty every time.

I looked back at my mother who rolled her eyes at me. She patted her rounded stomach and said, "At least this one's a boy who won't embarrass us."

She'd convinced my father to have another child. They rejoiced to high heaven when they found out the baby was a boy. Males are rarely Omegas. They had a good chance their son would be the Leader of Defense. My father would have the honor he used to have again. 

My dad commented to my mother it was too bad he couldn't denounce me like my mate would on my Calling Ceremony. No son of his should be related to an Omega.

That hurt. His silence hurt but that hurt even worse. I remember looking down at the chopping board and a fat tear of mine landing on the carrots I was cutting. I couldn't even eat dinner that night. I just laid in my bed and thought about how my father would denounce me like Dima always said he would.

That was the first time I thought about refusing the Calling and living on the Outside. The Outside was land outside the Pack walls. The Outside was where all the Omegas, dissenters, and wolves who pissed off the royal family were ordered. The huts on the outside had nothing but a dirty mattress on the floor and fireplaces made out of oil drums. Anything anyone had on the outside was from the trash of the wolves inside the Pack walls. Clothes, food, shoes, bedding, everything was fought over by the wolves on the Outside. The Luna would pack small baskets with food for the wolves on the Outside as an act of charity. Usually, it was old canned goods people had in the backs of their cupboards. 

I thought about the Outside and wondered if I should just leave. I wondered if I started reading up on surviving off the land if I could make it. I thought about checking out books from our Pack library about homesteading and wondered if I could take the chance.

Those thoughts left my brain as soon as I went to school the next day. I was an Omega. No way could I survive outside the Pack walls.

I stood in front of the mirror on the day of my Calling and looked at what my mother saw. A black dress that hung on me like a sack. Ugly black shoes that squeaked when I walked. Pale skin that showed my veins. Brown hair that needed a haircut and conditioner badly. Brown eyes with purple bruises under them. Nails bit down to the quick.

I looked like what I was. A house servant going to her own funeral.

I ignored my mother and left my house. I heard the crowds stop cheering at the sight of me. I ignored all of them and took the winding pathway up to the Pack House. A photographer snapped a few pictures but quickly gave up halfway through. People everywhere only stood and stared as I marched my way up to the Pack House.

The Luna, a woman named Lara, stood at the entrance to the Pack House. She was dressed in an elegant ballgown that matched her green eyes perfectly. The gossamer material hugged her slender body like it was made for her. It had to cost a fortune. Instead of looking at her eyes or her gleaming black hair, I looked at that damn gown and wondered how long it would take me to hand wash it in the morning.

Normally, I would bow to her to show reverence. Then she'd wish me luck on my new journey. She did the same speech for practically everyone unless they had any place of prominence. I watched her eyes widen as I simply walked past her.

It was my Calling. I would pay for it in the morning, but right then I didn't care. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as I walked by.

The royals thought the Omegas loved them. The royals thought Omegas worshipped the ground they walked on. Because they felt as though they were our saviors. Our generous benefactors kept us from starvation by working us to death and throwing us out when we weren't useful anymore. That their scraps were better than a death sentence and for that we should be grateful.

They didn't realize we hated them with as much passion as they loved themselves. We may never act on it. We may never utter a word against them. But our hatred was simmering under our skins as surely as the sun rose every morning and set every night. Smiles from Omegas only happened at royal funerals.

I walked into the throne room and saw the Alpha sitting at his place. On his head was the crown of maple leaves indicative of his place as the Alpha of the Woodlands Pack. His nickname was Dashar the Dangerous. Dashar was the fiercest Alpha in all the world. He was known for his cruelty and cunning. He watched me with greedy black eyes as I walked up the runner into the room.

Behind him and to his left stood his daughter, Gyndolyn, who stood and watched me. She had her mother's eyes and her father's dark brown hair. Her face went from bored out of her mind to immediately resentful as I walked into the room and did a slight bow that was barely felt. She stared at me as I knelt down in front of the Alpha. For a moment I looked back at her. I would be her personal servant very soon. In a moment of complete bravery, I gave her the same look of disdain that she gave me. Her brown eyes widened at me as I looked at her brother.

Dominic was Dash's only son. He had his mother's black hair and his father's brown eyes. He didn't look as bored as his sister. He watched what was happening as if it were a great accomplishment for me. He smiled down at me as an indulgent teacher would to a stupid pupil.

His face went from indulgence to confusion as I glared at him as well.

I daringly looked back at Dashar and waited for him to begin. When Lara marched to his side he took that as his signal to start talking.

"We are the Woodlands Pack. The most feared in the nation," Dash announced. I wondered if he insisted on starting every speech like that. His speechwriters shouldn't be paid so much. As far as I could tell all they had to do was copy and paste various speeches together.

"We have a duty to our wolves, even the smallest and weakest," he pointedly looked at me. 

It was true. I was small. And I was weak.

"You are an Omega," Dash needlessly informed me as if I hadn't been told the same thing all my life. 

I felt movement and from the corner of my eye, I watched my father bow his head in shame.

"As an Omega, you should be taken into our custody as a house servant. You would faithfully serve your royal family until the day you die," I looked back at Dashar with raised eyebrows.

"Instead, I have come to the conclusion the weakest among us must become the strongest for the good of the Pack," Dash announced as he waved his hand.

A man with grey hair and brilliant blue eyes stepped forward. He was dressed from head to toe in black. The only thing that shown on his ebony shirt was the imprint of a skull. His body was short but he had muscles that contracted and expanded as he stepped forward. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at me.

"I have decided you will train with the Black Skulls until you are able to pass the test of becoming a warrior," Dash's words echoed through the room.

I felt the world tilt. No one, not me, not the Luna, or the royal children, or anyone else in the Pack breathed. My own heart stopped. I glanced at my mother and father. I willed them to step forward and beg for my release.

I was the smallest and weakest and my Alpha was sending me to training that killed the strongest soldiers. I had never trained a day in my life. From the time I was born as a small baby, grew into a small child, and into a small teenager, they felt as though training me to become a soldier was useless. Instead, while the other children were running laps around the gym, I was sent to the Pack House and dusted the baseboards.

 The man continued to stare at me. In an instant, I had an overwhelming realization. The Alpha didn't want me to train. He wanted me to die. He didn't want an Omega as small as me. He didn't even want me in his royal household. 

I looked back at my father, who was staring at me. It was then I realized my own father agreed with the Alpha. His Leader of Defense didn't want to be known as the father of the house servant. I stared at my father for a long time. I looked at him looking at me. I let him know nonverbally I knew what he'd done.

Not for the first time in my life, I saw shame filter through my father's face. But it wasn't a shame of me this time. This was a look of shame for himself.

I looked at Dima. He stared at his Alpha with a clenched jaw. It would be bad form for him to reject me right before I was sent off to an unknown location to train for the next five years. If by the grace of the gods, I made it through the training, then I would be forced to participate in a Ceremony. A Ceremony that killed more wolves than passed. A Ceremony that I was almost certain not to pass. Instead, he'd have to wait until I was dead to faux-mourn my death and move on to his new mate. I watched as Allison's hand shot out and wrapped around Dima's. 

I laughed humorlessly. Of course. No one would admit to it but this was my father and Alpha getting rid of a small problem. Me. State-sanctioned murder. A way to wipe me from their memory without being put to trial for murder.

My eyes found the man in black again. I looked up at his light blue eyes and willed him to reject me as everyone had done for all of my life. I willed him to shake his head and break the deal. To tell the Alpha I was too small and weak for the Black Skulls and there was no way in hell he'd be able to train me into anything.

"You'll do," he clipped.

My heart sank and I got up.

"Now time for the celebration!" Dashar announced with glee.

The Pack was stunned. No one cheered. They only stood and stared at me as I got up.

"No time," the man in black clipped. He began marching down the aisle without turning or bowing or anything.

I immediately admired his courage. I felt emboldened as I jumped a bit and half-ran after him.

"But there's a banquet," Dash called out to our backs.

"So eat," the man turned slightly. My mouth dropped as the man's eyes focused on Dash's enormous gut. "It obviously won't go to waste."

He turned on his heels and marched out of the throne room while everyone stared at his disrespect.The Pack made a pathway for us as we walked from the royal family to a waiting black SUV.

"You have anyone to say goodbye to?" the man clipped at me.

I wordlessly shook my head.

"Your mom? Your dad? A mate?" he pressed.

I looked over at the doorway to the Pack House. My parents and mate stood inside the threshold and watched me carefully. My mother stepped forward and put out her arms as if I were going to hug her goodbye. Dima watched me like a hawk. My father's expression was blank.

I turned back to the man and said, "No. No one."

He glanced over at my family and back to me.

"Let's roll."

I jumped into the SUV passenger seat and buckled up barely in time not to be thrown forward and through the windshield. The man drove like a thief and I had to keep my hands folded together to not clutch at the door handle.

"I was sent to my death," I said after a long silence.

The man looked at me briefly before turning back to the road.

"They know there is no way I'm going to survive this," I thought aloud as I turned to him.

I watched his head jerk once.

"Funny thing about that," the man turned the car onto the interstate.

"What's funny about my death?" I screeched.

"They're wrong. All of them. They're all wrong. And you're going to prove it."