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AMAYA

" Y ou little BITCH!"

"Fuck you!" My snarled response is immediate. Fury floods my veins, smothering every ounce of pain radiating in my face. The pressure is still there, a pulsing reminder of everything these alphas are not. And they are NOT mine.

I watch the red-haired female jump to her feet, and my little feral omega finds sick pleasure in her blood oozing from her nose and split lip. I smirk, unable to help it, and not wanting to hide it.

As my rage settles into my bones, so does my omega, and it's the closest to cohesive we have ever been. No longer separate in our needs, we are one.

All we want is our pack.

Fuck any piece of chocolate they try to train us with. They can shove their almonds up their asses and choke on their apple juice. What I want, what I need is a cocktail of lemon lime, with a dash of mint and added summery freshness.

These alphas, no, these criminals , won't ever replace the burning desire for my fated mates. The only thing their putrid scents have done is cause me more pain. The forced vomiting, the stolen rewards. They're trying to alter my mind, just like the fucking academy. I knew it while it was happening, even if I yearned for another nibble of chocolate or something to quench my horrible thirst. It won't ever be something I'll forgive and forget.

They underestimate us academy omegas. We may have been trained to suppress ourselves and psychologically tortured us for years, but because of those horrible lessons, we learned something they never expected. We aren't so easily manipulated any more.

Because of all their different brands of torture, I know when I'm being abused. And those almonds? That was fucked up.

How dare they try to exploit my basic needs for their own fucking gain?!

A low growl builds in my chest, something that may be distinctly omega, but scary in its own right. "Not. Yours," I repeat, dragging myself from my ass and squatting into a defensive crouch. "Not my alphas."

"Kallan! You had one job! I liked the slut better the last time we were here!" I can't even remember the asshole’s name right now, but he's pissed. He's not mine, so I have no desire to make him feel better.

'Almonds. We shove them down his throat! No chewing! Just choking!'

My grin stretches a little wider, probably making me look as feral as I feel. My omega isn't sleeping any longer. She's awake, and ready for blood.

I couldn't agree more.

My trainer and torturer, Kallan, advances on the other guy with his mask still in place. "I told you she wasn't ready. She just fucking failed another test, and you expect her to want you? Your scents smell like ass. This is going to take time!"

"WE DON'T HAVE TIME!" Greg roars, spittle spraying every which way.

Kallan stalls to a stop. "What do you mean?" he grits out.

Shan hasn't looked away from me once, still using her white blouse to stanch the bleeding. Not so pretty now either, huh?

'Bitch.'

I do snort at that.

Shan's face purples, lunging for me only for Kallan to step between us. Must protect the merchandise.

"Start talking or get the fuck out and never come back. I have plenty of other offers on this slut." Ah, my knight in shining armor.

"You haven't heard?" Shan taunts menacingly. "They're coming for you, Kallan. Now give me my property. I'll fix her myself."

"I don't—" Kallan's cut off by the shrill sound of his phone ringing. Dread fills the torture room.

I really hope it's karma calling.