Page 2 of Omega's Formula

Dr. Evelyn Burke. Ellie’s primary physician, the only person in that entire building who treats me like I am a human being instead of just some omega getting in the way.

I type back:On my way.

The stew sits on my desk, steam curling into nothing. My stomach rumbles. I’ll eat it later. It’ll still be good when it’s cold.

The walk to the hospital takes all of three minutes. This is the other reason that I took the ‘studio’. Before I rented it full time, Mrs Kay made money from renting the room out to family of visiting patients. I guess she still does.

I’ve been Ellie’s sole caregiver since I was nineteen years old. That was when Mom died. Our dad was never really in the picture. He and Mom had an on again off again relationship that was mostly off. When I was fourteen, he went out for cigarettes and didn’t come back. Such a cliche.

I ran into a friend of Mom’s last year who told me that he was shacked up in Baton Rouge with ‘some bimbo’ so I guess he’s still alive. He’s never bothered to get into contact and I certainly wouldn’t care if he did.

Then Mom died five years after Dad left and it was just me and Ellie. She’s nineteen now, the same age I was when I started taking care of her.

And now some government agency is telling me it’s not enough. Apparently, without some alpha to validate my existence, I can’t be trusted to make decisions about my own sister’s care even though I’ve been doing it single-handed for a decade.

My stomach tightens with fury. This isn’t good enough. If they think I’m going to take this lying down, they’ve got another think coming.

I stomp over the crossing to the hospital entrance and its only when I see someone in the waiting room do a double take whenshe sees me that I realise I am frowning and muttering to myself. I must look like a complete maniac.

I take a deep breath and school my face to stillness. I am a calm, relaxed person. Or at least I can be with a little effort. I’m not going to let the bastards grind me down.

Ellie’s room is on the fourth floor. Despite the maze of corridors, I know this place so well I could navigate it blind. Dr Burke is at the nurses’ station when I arrive, her reading glasses perched on her nose as she reviews charts.

She looks up, and whatever she sees in my face makes her expression soften. “Nolan. She’s okay. She just wanted to see you. Sorry, I thought I said it wasn’t urgent.”

“I got the letter.”

For a moment, she says nothing, just taking in my expression which clearly isn’t as relaxed and calm as I’d intended it to be. Understanding flashes across her face. “I’m sorry. I pushed for her as hard as I could, but the committee—”

“I know. It’s not your fault.” I scrub my hand over my face. “Can I...?”

“Go on in. She’s awake.”

I nod but I don’t go in straight away. Ellie can’t know about this. I can’t tell her that the federal government has decided that me being an omega means she can’t get into the trial.

I definitely can’t tell her that in the short walk over here I already decided to register with the Bureau and sell myself to whatever alpha they match me with, all so she can have a chance at living past twenty-five.

I wait outside for a moment before I enter, trying to make the big fat grin on my face feel real. I tell myself that there’s nothing wrong. Everything is fine. As far as Ellie knows, we’re still waiting on confirmation on whether she can have the treatment and there is no reason that she shouldn’t get it. We made a good case.

The only thing she needs to worry about is getting better. Everything else is my problem.

I take a deep breath and step inside.

Ellie’s sitting up in bed, her laptop balanced on her knees. She’s gotten good at hiding how bad she feels, but I can see it—the tremor in her hands and the way she shifts constantly trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. The dark circles under her eyes look deeper than they did yesterday.

She looks up when I enter, and her smile is immediate and genuine and breaks my fucking heart.

“Nolan! I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“Got your message. What’s up, kiddo?”

“You didn’t have to come straight away and don’t call me kiddo. I’m nineteen.” But there’s no heat in it. She pats the bed next to her. “Come look at this. I found this article about a new therapy they’re testing in Germany—”

“Sounds promising. Let’s take a look.”

She slides the laptop over to me, the tab open to the article.

“Of course, if we get into the Barclay trial, then it won’t matter. That one is far more promising. Have you heard anything yet?”