The Sovereigns' Omega

Mariah

They say that every omega dreams of finding her pack. I dream of surviving without one.

The second I step off the bus, the smell of alpha slams into me—thick, sharp, undeniably dominant.

When I first got my wolf at eighteen, I thought that scent was heaven.

Now it just makes me want to gag.

It brings everything back—memories I tried to bury so deep they should've died there.

But they don't. They never do.

Would be nice if someone invented memory blockers the way they did pheromone suppressants.

But unfortunately, we're not that advanced yet.

Even with werewolves running the world.

My fingers tighten around the strap of my dance bag as I walk toward the gates of Blackridge University—the place I've spent the last year dreaming about every single night.

The campus looks like a goddamn postcard—ivy-covered stone buildings, glass towers catching the light like they're showing off.

Students swarm the courtyard in packs. Literal packs. You can tell by the way they move—like they share the same brain cell.

I stick to the edge of the walkway, trying not to breathe too deeply. Alphas smell like spice and ego, betas like steel and coffee, and omegas like desperation and overpriced perfume.

Welcome home, me.

Hopefully this won't be the second-worst experience of your life.

Someone's blasting music near the fountain. A few dancers stretch nearby, laughing like they've never had a reason to look over their shoulders.

My pulse skips.

That's why I'm here.

The scholarship. The stage. The one thing that still makes me feel like I exist outside of what my mom calls "finding your pack."

I breathe in again. Beneath all the scents and noise, there's something else here.

Possibility.

Maybe even freedom.

The dance building's supposed to be on the far end of campus. I saw it on the map the admissions office sent out last week, but my hands are shaking too much to follow directions.

I'll find it later," I mutter.

First, I need to unpack. Maybe meet whoever I'm stuck living with for the semester.

Hopefully she's quiet, because I don't feel like socializing right now.

Or ever, really.

Omega housing is exactly what it sounds like: omegas packed together like an over-scented sorority. The mated ones get suites with their packs. The rest of us? We get crammed into what's left.

The ones without marks.

The ones without a place.

The ones nobody wants.

The hallway smells like lavender detergent and fake calm—pheromone blockers trying to convince everyone to behave.

Doors slam. Laughter echoes. Someone's playing pop music at war volume.

I pull my hoodie tighter and keep my head down.

Don't look at anyone. Don't breathe too deep. Don't give anyone a reason to notice you.

Room 314.

I stop in front of the door, inhale deeply, and turn the handle.

Inside, the room looks like an IKEA starter pack—two beds, two desks, two wardrobes. One side already looks like a unicorn threw up on it—pink comforter, fairy lights, perfectly stacked textbooks.

The other side is empty. Mine.

A girl pops up from behind the wardrobe, purple curls bouncing. She's carrying a box labeled "Sky's things—TOUCH AND DIE."

"Oh. You must be Mariah!" she beams, her voice bright enough to power a city. "Hi! I'm Sky, your roommate!"

She's one of those people that radiate sunshine and serotonin.

Basically, my natural enemy.

I manage a polite nod. "Hey."

Her gaze drops to my bag. "You're the scholarship student, right? That's insane. Everyone's been talking about it. I didn't even know omegas could get full scholarships."

Oh, great.

Day one and I'm already gossip material.

That'll make avoiding alphaholes so much easier—not.

"I'm so happy for you," she continues, her energy practically eating me alive. "It's hard for omegas like us to get any recognition, you know? Nobody really cares about us until we're mated."

"Guess so."

She keeps talking while I unpack—about the cafeteria food, dorm drama, who's dating who.

It's like being trapped in a teen drama I never auditioned for.

I half-listen, half-focus on stacking my few belongings into the wardrobe. The chatter's annoying, but at least it's noise. Silence makes me think too much.

I've had enough of that.

With Dad always working and Mom busy brunching her way through life, I was usually alone.

That's how he found the chance to hurt me.

No one was there to stop him.

When Sky finally leaves for dinner, the quiet hits again. 

My phone buzzes, making me jump.

Hope you're moving in okay, dear. Me and your father wish we could be there, but you told us so last minute. We love you. Visit soon, okay?

Guilt churns in my gut.

They're right—I didn't give them much notice.

Not that it would've mattered.

They're not bad parents.

Just... distracted ones.

They never realized kids still need protecting after they stop needing babysitters.

That's why I fought so hard for this scholarship.

I needed distance. A new beginning.

A place far enough away that he couldn't touch me again.

Because months ago, I got those messages.

The ones that still freeze my blood:

Wherever you hide, I'll find you.

You ruined my life, bitch. So I'm going to ruin yours.

Even now, my hands shake remembering them.

That's why I came here—halfway across the country, to a city where nobody knows me.

He can't reach me at Blackridge. Not unless he wants to go back to prison. Assuming he's even out.

Honestly, I'm too scared to check.

I’d rather pretend he’s still locked up than face the possibility that he’s not.

That he found my number again.

That he still means every word he said.

I finally text Mom back-Love you too. I'll be fine.

Because what else can I say that won't make her worry—or worse, make her see how broken I still am?

After I set my phone down on the charger, I pull my knees up to my chest and stare out the window.

The room's too quiet again. Just the whir of the fan and faint laughter floating up from the courtyard.

The sunset paints everything gold, my reflection ghosting over the glass.

For a second, I don't recognize her—the girl staring back.

She looks tired. Fragile. But still standing.

That's all that matters.

Outside, packs move across the courtyard like constellations—separate, but connected.

I used to want that.

Now I just want peace.

I want to stop flinching at every sound. Stop wondering if I'll ever feel safe in my own skin again.

A breeze slips through the window, cool and gentle against my face.

"Whatever happens next," I whisper, "this is where I start over."

This time, I mean it.

I'll become someone new.

Leave Woodshire Springs behind.

And no one's ever going to get in the way of my future again.