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The Director’s dominance is thick in the main room. He’s sitting in one of the armchairs, typing aggressively into his phoneagain. He looks up when he hears me and twists his lips into an attempt at a smile.

It’s not very comforting, considering the hard scowl lines set on his face make his smile look more like a grimace. I appreciate the attempt, though, and it’s the encouragement I need to step out of the bathroom and sit on the sofa across from him.

“So,” he sighs, setting his phone down. “This was not at all how your registration and introduction to the Northside should have gone. Had my son and his pack brought you in earlier and not this suddenly, your experience would’ve been far more… comfortable than this.”

My hands clench into fists in my lap. It’s obvious that the kind of omega I was raised to be won’t serve me here. Being weak, subservient, and submissive won’t get me anywhere. That’s not what’s expected out of the other omegas here, if the way I’ve been treated by the couple I’ve met has been any indication, so why should I stay stuck in that box?

“It’s not their fault,” I say.

The Director seems surprised at the strength in my voice. It’s understandable, considering the sorry state he found me in just a few minutes ago.

“The Ward pack… they were amazing to me. Far better than anyone else here has treated me,” I continue. “My negative experience here at the center isn’t their fault.”

He nods his head, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward onto his elbows. His eyes are intense as they stare at me as if he’s trying to figure me out.

“You’re right. The fault of your negative experience lies solely on my shoulders,” he says.

“I—I don’t agree with that.” I’m less sure about this and I think that shows in the way my voice wavers as I speak back to the director. I guess it’s only things that have to do directly with the guys that I’m confident about. “The reason my time here has been so…” Bad. Traumatic. Nightmare-inducing. There are so many words I could use to describe my time here. “The reason why things have been so difficult is because of that receptionist and the doctor.”

“Don’t feel pressured to defend me. All the omegas the center takes in are my responsibility as the director. That aside, please be rest assured that the receptionist who began your registration process will be fired for her inappropriate behavior.”

I don’t know whether to be happy or not. I’m definitely glad that omega isn’t going to be able to go on power trips with any other Southside omegas that come through here. But I’m still worried that her getting fired because of me will give omegas like her and Brandy more reason to hate me.

The Director seems to sense my concern, though he doesn’t seem to quite understand why I’m concerned. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. She has a supportive family. I’m fairly certain the only reason she was sent to work here was as a punishment for spending too much of her trust,” he says. “I’m more interested in your experience with the doctor.”

My knuckles go white. “I’d—I’d prefer not to go into specifics.”

“That’s fine, whatever you’re most comfortable with,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

“The—The examination I had with Charlotte, Chase’s sister was—was a much more positive experience. She cared about my feelings and wellbeing, and even though it was difficult to go through the examination, she treated me like I was human.” I swallow hard, remembering the glint in that doctor’s eyes as he watched me take off my clothes. “Dr. Whittaker didn’t?—”

My voice breaks. I feel pressure in my chest like it’s going to explode. I’m starting to panic again.

“I’m listening,” the director says, his tone surprisingly soft.

I swallow hard, my hands trembling in my lap. “I’m sure—I’m sure you’ve probably heard about my past. If you’re going to betaking in omegas like me, you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t employ people like that.”

“I see. I’ll look into what I can do there,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Unfortunately, hiring the medical personnel here isn’t entirely my domain, but I can promise you that for any medical care you receive here, it won’t be with him.”

My shoulders sag in relief.

“You won’t have to see him ever again, I promise.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“No need to thank me, I apologize that I’m unable to do more for you.”

His phone buzzes from the arm of the chair he’s sitting in. He curses under his breath when he reads the message.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, biting the inside of my cheek. I can’t help but worry that something has happened to the guys. He would know, considering his relationship to them.

“I wish I had better news to tell you, but your stuff has been found in the dumpster of the building.”

“Oh.” My chest squeezes, not necessarily at losing all of the stuff, but losing what feels like the only connection I have to the pack.

“I’m sure we can arrange for you to get new things,” The director says, in an effort to reassure me. He seems to have good intentions, but he doesn’t seem to understand my reactions.

My head falls to my chest and I feel the burn of more tears behind my eyes. God, I thought I was all out of tears already. It’s silly, crying over stuff when I practically grew up with nothing.