The Omega's Torment

Iris

The icy draft slipping under the front door was the only thing greeting me this morning. I pulled my worn sneakers from the mat, shoving my feet into the cold, stiff fabric. Down the narrow hallway, the heavy, rhythmic snores of my mother echoed from the living room couch. An empty vodka bottle lay tipped over on the rug beside her dangling hand, a single drop of clear liquid pooling onto the cheap carpet.

My biggest mistake was simply being born.

If my mother had ended my life the second the pack doctor placed my tiny body on her chest, I might have been reborn as something else. Something better. A bird, maybe. Or a human. But she let me live, taking home a daughter who came from a man she despised. I was the breathing product of her deepest nightmares, a constant reminder of the man who had forced himself upon her. Because of that, I could not recall a single time she had ever hugged me or proudly claimed me as hers.

It felt like a miracle I had even survived those early years. She drank at every opportunity. When there were parent meetings at the kindergarten, she showed up reeking of alcohol. When the pack doctors performed their yearly checkups on the young werewolves in the territory, she wore oversized sunglasses indoors, hiding the bloodshot eyes earned from staying up all night with her truest lover—the bottle.

Now that I was older, our roles had reversed. I took care of her, navigating a treacherous landscape of domestic duty and sudden violence. Whenever the liquor took hold, her despair morphed into rage. She would pull my hair, throw household objects at my head, and scream until her voice went hoarse that I was nothing but a mistake.

Just last week, the abuse had left a physical mark I was still trying to hide. She had found my small collection of drugstore makeup and tossed it into the kitchen trash, slurring that she refused to let her daughter look like a cheap slut. When I crouched down, desperately trying to salvage a single tube of mascara from the coffee grounds, she lunged. Her nails dug into my cheek, clawing down the side of my face.

I traced the healing scab on my jawline, flinching at the memory of her screaming at me to get out of her sight.

She was a terrible mother. I wanted nothing more than to leave this house and never look back, but the harsh reality of our kind kept me chained to her and the Croft pack. I just needed to survive until graduation. A packless wolf would lose their mind and turn rogue, a fate that would claim a weak, shiftless omega like me in a matter of days.

My only glimmer of hope rested on my upcoming eighteenth birthday. If the Moon Goddess blessed me with a fated mate, the two of us would count as our own pack. I could leave this suffocating hellhole behind, tied to someone who might actually love me.

That dream was the only thing keeping me going, because staying with the Croft pack meant submitting to a far darker future. Omega werewolves possessed a unique trait: we were the only females capable of bearing children without being impregnated by a fated mate. Because of this, the pack elders viewed us as breeding stock. Once I turned eighteen, if I remained mate-less, they would force me to marry a man I did not love, using my body to bolster the pack’s numbers.

I prayed the elders would never knock on my door. Marrying a stranger just to carry his pups was a nightmare I refused to accept.

All I wanted was freedom.

I finished tying my laces and stepped out into the freezing morning, unsurprised that my mother had not stirred to say goodbye. It used to carve a hollow ache in my chest, knowing she did not care if I made it to school or not. But after surviving years of neglect and physical outbursts, a person eventually stopped caring. You grew a thicker skin, built a fortress around your fragile heart, and acted as if everything was fine. You learned to smile through the pain, hoping that if you faked it long enough, the smile might one day become real.

Snow drifted down from the heavy gray sky as I marched down the cracked sidewalk. The slush immediately soaked through the thin canvas of my sneakers, chilling my toes. A block away, Isla stood waiting by our usual corner, her small frame swallowed by a beige, oversized hand-me-down coat.

“There you are!” she called out, a bright smile breaking across her face. Isla was an omega just like me, and my one and only friend in the world.

I picked up my pace, shuffling through the fresh snow and ignoring the wet squelch inside my shoes. “Good morning to you too.”

“Slept good?” she asked, falling into step beside me.

“Like a princess. You know, the poor, tragic Cinderella kind.”

Isla let out a warm laugh, and the lingering sting of my mother’s rejection dissolved into the winter air. Life felt manageable when Isla was around. The Croft pack only had two young omegas, and we were both seventeen-year-old, short Swedish girls. We bonded instantly over our shared status and matching statures.

But our similarities ended there. Isla had something I would kill for: a massive, fiercely loving family. The Monroe clan did not care that she was an omega. They brought her along on pack hunts, defying the Alpha’s strict rules and risking severe punishment just to include her. They believed blood ran thicker than any pack bond. Sometimes, when the isolation became too much, I closed my eyes and pretended I was a Monroe too—blonde, blue-eyed, and surrounded by siblings who would fight for me.

The illusion never lasted. I was Iris Mercer. The freckled nerd with unruly red hair, two mismatched eyes—one green, one muddy brown—and a severe case of hormonal acne that made my life a living hell. Only someone who suffered from cystic breakouts could understand the crushing self-consciousness that hit me every time I passed a mirror. No amount of cheap foundation could hide the angry red bumps. Putting makeup over them just made my face look like a melted ice cream bar rolled in crushed nuts. I felt hideous.

“I hope Trenton is still sick at home,” Isla murmured, her voice dropping as the massive brick structure of the school gymnasium came into view. “He has been particularly cocky and mean lately. Ever since his father announced he is going to officially take over as Alpha of the Croft pack, he has been acting untouchable.”

The mere mention of Trenton stepping up as Alpha made a violent shudder rip through my body, and it had nothing to do with the winter wind. Trenton Croft had been the bane of my existence since middle school. The day he realized Isla and I shared the same initials—I and M—he dubbed us Imp and Imp. But Isla managed to slip under his radar, protected by her family’s fierce reputation.

I had no such protection. I was his favorite target.

I had no idea why Trenton took such immense pleasure in breaking me down. All I knew was that beneath his handsome exterior lurked a devil, and it terrified me how blind the rest of the school was to his true nature. Anyone with a functioning brain should have seen the cruelty in his eyes, but the students at Prescott Crest worshipped the ground he walked on. They swarmed him, eager to act as his puppets, mesmerized by his wealth and status. It made my stomach turn. Beauty and money were clearly enough to turn the entire student body into fools.

I ducked my head, staring intently at my wet sneakers as we passed Sloane Mooncrest, Trenton’s girlfriend. She stood near the gym doors, a cigarette pinched between her manicured fingers.

As we walked by, she leaned toward her group of friends, her voice loud and cutting. “Gosh, Imp number one is so unlucky. Look at her. Not only is she a shiftless omega and short as hell, but she also suffers from that repulsive acne. So fucking disgusting. Doesn’t she ever wash her skin?”

Her friends erupted into mocking giggles. A sharp ache bloomed in my chest, tightening my throat. I kept my head down, forcing my legs to keep moving toward the entrance.

We paused near the double doors as a sleek white Audi rolled into the prime spot in the student parking lot. The engine purred, a blatant display of wealth. Some kids had parents rich enough to buy them luxury cars the second they got their licenses. My mother could not even afford to buy me winter boots.

The doors of the Audi swung open, and Trenton Croft stepped out, flanked by his loyal inner circle. Blair Keaton emerged from the passenger side, her rich brown skin glowing against the collar of an expensive designer winter jacket. She held a compact mirror, applying a fresh layer of gloss to her lips. Behind her came Kellan and Zane Adler, the twin behemoths who acted as Trenton’s personal bodyguards and future betas. They immediately started shoving each other in the snow, roughhousing like a pair of oversized, aggressive pups.

“We should probably leave before they spot you,” Isla mumbled, gripping my elbow. She knew Trenton loved to make me his early-morning victim. If he did not throw a cruel comment about my skin, he would ask me in a mocking tone if I had caught my first deer yet, pretending to forget that I was shiftless and physically incapable of hunting.

He made attending this school a daily exercise in torture.

We hurried through the main doors, welcoming the blast of heated air in the hallway. We rushed toward our lockers, desperate to dump our coats and disappear into our homeroom. But we were not fast enough. Kellan and Zane had lockers in the same row as mine, and the heavy thud of their boots echoed behind us.

A cold sweat broke out across my neck. The twins were massive, easily towering over my small frame. My heart slammed against my ribs when Zane stepped into my space and kicked the bottom of my metal locker. The loud, metallic bang made me jump.

“Great,” Zane growled, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I forgot we had that stupid homework due today.”

His dark, predatory eyes shifted, locking onto my trembling form. A wicked smirk stretched across his face.

“Hey, Imp. You’re smart, right? Hand over your homework.”

Panic surged through me. I pulled my backpack off, clutching my completed worksheets tightly against my chest. “Huh? N-no, I need to turn these in for my grade—”

“You don’t,” Zane interrupted, stepping closer until he loomed directly over me. He slapped one massive hand against the metal lockers, caging me in. The scent of pine and aggression rolled off him. “Why bother stressing over good grades when you’re just gonna end up as part of someone’s baby-making plan or whatever? Hand them over.”

Zane terrified me. His sheer size and werewolf strength meant he could snap my arm without breaking a sweat. But despite the violent trembling in my hands, a spark of stubborn defiance flared in my chest. I refused to let go of the papers I had stayed up all night finishing.

“I said hands off,” I whispered, pressing my back hard against the cold metal of the locker, my palms sweating against the paper.

“Is there a problem over here?”

The deep, authoritative voice sliced through the tension in the hallway. Students scattered, clearing a path. Trenton Croft stood a few feet away, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his dark jacket.

Zane did not bother looking back at his Alpha, but he did take a half-step back, easing the suffocating pressure. A brief, desperate wave of hope washed over me. Maybe Trenton would tell him to back off. Maybe, just this once, the future Alpha would reign in his betas and let me go to class in peace.

That hope shattered into jagged pieces a second later.

“Nah, no problem,” Zane said over his shoulder. “Just Imp trying to keep her homework from me.”

Trenton shifted his gaze to me. His piercing blue eyes swept over my terrified face, my cheap clothes, and the papers crushed against my chest. There was no anger in his expression, no sadistic glee. There was only a chilling, absolute indifference. I meant less than nothing to him.

“Whatever,” Trenton said, his voice dripping with boredom. He broke eye contact, already turning away. “You can take it if you trust her papers to be any good.”

He walked down the hallway without a second glance, Blair and Kellan falling in line behind him like obedient soldiers.

My hands shook violently. The betrayal of that indifference cut deeper than any insult.

“See?” Zane taunted, an easy, victorious grin flashing across his face. “The future Alpha couldn’t care less if you live or die.”

Before I could brace myself, Zane’s hand darted forward. With one swift, brutal yank, he snatched the papers from my grip, leaving my knuckles stinging from the friction. He shoved the crumpled worksheets into his backpack and turned away, his mocking laughter echoing down the corridor.

“Thanks for the papers, Imp!”

I stood frozen against the locker. A scream built in the back of my throat, thick and suffocating, but I swallowed it down. I never fought back. I never screamed. Just like always, the burning anger in my chest curdled into a wave of helpless humiliation, and hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes. It was so pathetic. I hated myself for crying.

I quickly scrubbed the moisture away with the rough sleeve of my coat, turning my face toward the metal so Isla would not see the extent of my break down.

“Forget about him,” Isla said softly, her voice thick with sympathy as she stepped into my line of sight. She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “We can just go to the library and photocopy my papers before the bell rings. It’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” I choked out, my voice cracking under the weight of my profound isolation. “I just… I just wish things were different. You know? Just for once.”

Life was already an unbearable struggle. Between my abusive mother, the constant threat of a forced mating, and the agonizing hatred I felt for my own reflection, my plate was full. I just could not comprehend the reason why Trenton and his loyal crew felt the need to relentlessly tear me down on top of it all.