Claiming the Vesper Omega

Chapter 2

Vesper POV

The television’s blue glow was the first thing to hit me when I stepped inside. Leanne was sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to a rerun of some procedural crime drama. She’s taller than me, with 20/20 vision that seems to pick up every flaw in my posture, while I stumble through life behind thick lenses. We share the same dark hair and sharp jawline, enough that cashiers sometimes ask if we’re twins, ignoring the three-year gap between us. But as I crossed the threshold, her head snapped toward me. Her gaze wasn’t casual; it was a scan.

“Where were you?” she asked. It wasn’t a question; it was an audit.

“Library,” I said, keeping my voice flat. It was the perfect alibi. I’d spent so many hours buried in textbooks during high school that the librarians knew me by name. I’d even secured a part-time shelving job there without a formal interview, just because they trusted my silence.

Leanne held my stare for a second longer than comfortable, then shrugged, turning back to the screen. “Call next time you’re pulling a late shift. I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped.”

“Noted,” I muttered, slipping into the kitchen.

My stomach growled, a hollow ache I’d been nurturing all day. Pleasure is a trigger. Comfort is a leak. To keep the Omega dormant, I have to keep the vessel unhappy. I don’t eat for taste; I eat for fuel, and preferably, the kind that fights back.

I opened the fridge and spotted the leftover chili from two nights ago. It was congealed, heavy with spices that usually sent my acid reflux into overdrive. Perfect. I nuked it until it bubbled, then stood at the counter and forced it down. The heat scorched my throat, and my stomach cramped in protest. I ate until I felt sick, until the physical discomfort drowned out the lingering adrenaline from the bar.

A fleeting spark of triumph flared in my chest. *I did it.* I shoved it down instantly. Euphoria is dangerous. It lowers defenses. I’ve been safe here in Silver Lake, a town so saturated with Betas it feels like a sanctuary. But college? College is a minefield. Alphas roam those campuses like sharks in a chum bucket.

It had taken me two years post-graduation to work up the courage to apply. Not just because of the fear, but because of the bureaucracy. Regular universities require a genetic screening. Omegas are redirected to specialized academies—breeding grounds disguised as schools. So, I hadn’t sent my blood. I’d waited until Leanne was deep in REM sleep, pricked her finger, and mailed her sample under my name. She is a Beta, bone and blood. The system saw what it expected to see.

No one knows. No one suspects. And I intend to keep it that way.

Leanne appeared in the kitchen doorway as I was scrubbing my bowl. She set an empty mug on the counter. The bitter, roasted scent of stale coffee clung to the ceramic.

“You smell like smoke and cheap perfume,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Like a bar.”

My jaw tightened. I wanted to snap back, to remind her that she spent her twenties drowning in exactly that atmosphere. But she’s been sober for a year, fighting hard to stay clean. Throwing her past in her face would be cruel, and cruelty draws attention. So I swallowed the retort.

“I was at the library,” I repeated, meeting her eyes. “Old books smell like dust and decay. Maybe that’s what you’re picking up.”

She snorted, unconvinced, but turned away. “Whatever. Just don’t make a habit of lying to me.”

I finished cleaning, dragging out the motions to avoid going upstairs. Exhaustion was setting in, a heavy blanket I couldn’t shake off. Sleep is the enemy. When I’m asleep, I can’t control my breathing, my scent, my dreams. But I couldn’t stay awake forever.

I killed the lights and moved through the dark living room. Leanne was already gone, her bedroom door shut.

On my way up, I paused outside Mom’s old room. The door was closed, sealing away the ghosts I’d already sifted through. I’d raided every drawer, every box, looking for a clue. Dad died before I could form memories of him, but he was a Beta. Mom was a Beta. Leanne is a Beta. Genetics doesn’t make mistakes like this. There is no logical explanation for two Betas producing an Omega. It’s a biological impossibility, a glitch in the code.

I should have asked Mom before she got sick. Before she got too tired to care. But I had been terrified of the answer, terrified that she would look at me with disgust instead of love.

I pushed the thought away and entered my own room. I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the mattress, letting the springs creak under my weight.

One week. Seven days until I leave Silver Lake behind. Seven days until I’m surrounded by strangers, pretending to be something I’m not, walking among predators who would tear me apart if they knew the truth.

I stared at the ceiling, listening to the house settle.

What could possibly go wrong?

******

Cressidan City didn’t just feel big; it felt aggressive. The skyscrapers pierced the smog-choked sky like jagged teeth, and the traffic moved with the sluggish, venomous pace of a dying insect. I had known Silver Lake was small, but I hadn’t anticipated the sheer, crushing velocity of everything else here. People blurred past in streaks of color and noise, while I stood frozen on the sidewalk, wondering if I had made a catastrophic error in judgment.

The panic hit me fully when we pulled into the university parking lot. It wasn’t just a campus; it was a hive. Hundreds—no, thousands—of students swarmed the walkways. A sea of faces, bodies, and scents. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of warning. This wasn’t a test in a quiet bar. This was immersion.

“Impressive,” Leanne said, killing the engine. She sounded unimpressed, actually. Bored, even.

I stared at her, bewildered by her insistence on driving me. I owned two suitcases and a box of books. A bus ticket would have been cheaper and less emotionally taxing. But looking at the hardback spines protruding from my cardboard box, I realized I’d packed my security blanket. Stupid. Heavy. Dangerous.

“I want to go home,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The crowd outside was a tidal wave, and I was drowning in it. Somewhere in that mass were Alphas. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. My little stunt at the bar felt like child’s play compared to this.