Page 2 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

Presidential campaign. Of course. Uncle doesn't just want to be Governor forever, he wants the ultimate prize.

And we're his stepping stones.Violet married into the banking elite, Rose into old money.

I'm supposed to cement his political dynasty, though I don't really understand how omega marriages translate to votes.

A pulse flutters in my throat like a trapped bird."Yes, Uncle."

"Your sister Violet had some... attitude problems initially."His grip tightens until I have to bite back a whimper, fingers digging into my collarbone until pain shoots down my arm."But she learned to embrace her purpose. I trust you're more sensible than she was."

I think about Violet's tired eyes, the way she flinched when he said her name. Whatever happened during those weeks she disappeared,it broke something in her.Made her smaller. Quieter. More obedient.

"I'll do my best," I whisper.

"You'll do exactly as you're told," he corrects,but his tone softens like honey over poison."This is what you were born for, Daisy. What generations of our family's bloodline have prepared for."He releases me with a final squeeze that will definitely leave bruises."You should feel honored."

"I won't disappoint you," I manage.

"No." He straightens his jacket, political smile returning. "You won't."

Honored. I try to feel honored instead of terrified, but it doesn't work.I just feel like I'm drowning.

The ballroom doors loom ahead, and I can hear the string quartet, the polite conversation, the undercurrent of alpha energy that makes my skin crawl.

Uncle will announce me in a few minutes, and I'll have to walk in there and pretend I want this.

Pretend I'm grateful for the opportunity to be evaluated like livestock.

I close my eyes and try to remember my training,but my hands are shaking now, my whole body vibrating like I might just come apart.

Smile. Nod. Be grateful. Don't think about what comes after.

Don't think about how much you wish you were someone else.

The doors open.

The scent hits me like a physical wall.Alpha pheromones so thick I can taste them.

Power and dominance and barely contained aggression coiling through the air, designed to intimidate and overwhelm.

The competing scents make my head spin. I force my feet to move forward even though every instinct tells me to flee.

I can barely breathe.

Training kicks in automatically. Small steps, eyes down, gentle smile. Don't let them see how terrified you are.

The ballroom is magnificent. All crystal chandeliers and gold leaf, beautiful enough to take your breath away.

But all I can focus on is the weight of every gaze turning toward me.

The air is thick with their competing scents.

Some sharp and clean like winter mornings, others heavy and musky.

It's overwhelming, suffocating, designed to remind me exactly how outnumbered I am.

Twenty-seven packs.Twenty-seven packs of eyes stripping me down to breeding potential.

God, if only I could just disappear.

Uncle's hand returns to my shoulderas he guides me deeper into the room,his fingers a constant reminder of who owns me."Gentlemen," he announces, pride ringing in his voice. "May I present the culmination of generations of careful breeding. My niece, Daisy."

Polite applause follows, and I try to smile,but the sound makes my teeth ache.I keep my eyes down, watching the marble floor instead of meeting anyone's gaze. Maybe if I'm quiet enough, small enough, this will all be over soon.

My attention drifts to the edges of the room where the Omega House guards stand.

Beta-born alphas deemed unworthy of elite society but necessary to protect its precious assets.

They wear scent blockers, keeping their presence neutral and unobtrusive so as not to compete with the elite alphas being presented with their potential prizes.

Uncle begins introducing me to various packs, speaking about my bloodline, my training, my "exceptional fertility" like I'm not standing right there. The alphas discuss me in clinical terms. Genetic advantages. Breeding potential. The likelihood of producing quality offspring.

I force myself to nod and smile on cue, playing my part.

I try to focus on their words instead of scanning the crowd, but then I see him.

My father—William, one of my three fathers—standing with a group of political elites near the far wall.

His salt-and-pepper hair is perfectly styled, his expensive suit immaculate.

He's exactly as I remember from the handful of times I've seen him over the years.

Our eyes meet for just a moment across the room.I feel a flutter of something… hope? Maybe he'll come over, say something, ask how I'm doing.

Instead, he turns back to his conversation without so much as a nod.

The dismissal stings, but I'm not surprised.I drop my gaze before he can see the tears threatening to spill.

"And her contraceptive implant?" one of the alphas Uncle is speaking with asks, his voice casual, like we're discussing the weather.

"State of the art," Uncle responds smoothly. "Gives the claiming pack complete control over conception timing. They can choose whether she conceives during her first heat, or enjoy several cycles before beginning breeding."

The words hit me like ice water.Uncle's grip keeps me upright as they discuss my body, my future, my life like I'm not even there.I dig my nails into my palms to keep from reacting.

"Excellent," another alpha murmurs,and I can smell his interest spike, thick and oily."Nothing quite like the anticipation of timing things perfectly."

I dig my nails deeper into my palms to keep my expression neutral.

"Indeed," Uncle continues smoothly. "The implant ensures she remains fertile and responsive while giving the claiming pack full autonomy over when to start breeding."

I force my smile to stay in place.Perfect control. Over me. Over when I have children, how many, with whom.The scent of his arousal makes me sick, but I keep smiling because that's what good omegas do.

Breeding. That's what I am to them. A broodmare in silk.

Through it all, I smile. I nod. I play my part while they discuss the mechanics of using my body like I'm not even there.The muscles in my jaw ache, but I don't dare let the mask slip.

God, what would it feel like to just be... normal? I can't even imagine it.

But I'm not. I'm just Daisy, the Governor's omega niece, and this is my life.

Through all the introductions and evaluations, I keep finding myself drawn back to the quieter edges of the room, away from the overwhelming center where the elite packs evaluate me like merchandise.

One guard stands slightly apart from the others. Tall, with dark hair cut military-short and sharp features, but it's his eyes that catch me. Ice blue and unexpectedly gentle. When our gazes meet across the room, I don't feel the usual urge to look away immediately.

He's looking at me, but not the way the others do. Not like I'm something to be acquired or evaluated.Just... looking. Like he sees me, not just what I represent.

And then something strange happens.

It's barely there beneath his blockers. Warm honey and clove that makes my knees weak.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I've never reacted to anyone's scent like this. Not even the elite alphas Uncle paraded me in front of at previous events. But this guard… this stranger.His scent makes me feel safe in a room designed to intimidate me.

Maybe I'm getting sick. Maybe it's the stress. Maybe my blockers are failing from the overwhelming alpha presence tonight.

His expression, his stillness, makes me feel like maybe I'm not completely alone in this room full of strangers deciding my fate.For a moment, I forget to be afraid. For just a heartbeat, I feel like maybe I'm not completely invisible.

And then I realize I'm perfuming.

The sweet honeysuckle and vanilla scent that's supposed to be locked away starts seeping out.

The change is immediate and terrifying.Several nearby alphas pause mid-conversation, their heads turning toward me.

Their nostrils flare as they catch my scent despite the suppressants, and I watch their pupils dilate with interest that makes my skin crawl.

No, no, no. This can't be happening.

Uncle's hand tightens on my shoulder.I can feel his rage radiating through his touch even as he maintains his political smile for the watching crowd.Sweat slicks my palms.I shouldn't have been looking at the guard. I shouldn't have been perfuming for anyone, let alone a beta-born alpha guard.

But even as Uncle guides me to the next group of potential buyers, I can still feel those ice-blue eyes watching me.Still feel that honey and clove scent calling to whatever broken thing inside me just woke up.

Still feel my own treacherous scent responding to his, no matter how hard I try to stop it.

Maybe I'm losing my mind. Maybe the stress of tonight finally broke something inside me. Maybe this is what happens when you've been performing for so long that your body doesn't know how to react normally anymore.

But for the first time tonight, I don't feel completely invisible.And despite everything—the fear, the shame, the overwhelming certainty that I'm not strong enough for what's coming—that has to count for something.

Even if I don't know what yet.