ALPHA

Sanctuary

My breath is ragged as I keep running.

I really did it this time.

"Get back here you stupid little cunt!"

The four betas start to catch up to me.

"Not a chance," I shout, not looking back.

I'm almost there.
Just a bit further.

I can see the Omega house at the corner of the street. My legs burn like hell but I keep going, pushing them to keep me moving.

Almost there.

"You're gonna wish you never stepped foot in this city!"

They're closer.

One more house!

I jump onto the stairs of the Omega House porch, basically throwing myself at the door.

"Statuary!" I call, turning back to my pursuers.

The betas freeze in their tracks.
They can't touch me.

They growl, huffing and puffing in anger.

"You can't stay in there forever, Omega," the red head growls, his green eyes boring into mine.

"Says who?" I huff out before turning and going into the run down building.

The outside may be a bit rough, but the inside is nicely kept despite the thirty-odd Omegas I can scent in it.

Omega Houses are for unclaimed Omegas to live until they find their Alpha, or in my case, until I leave and go to another city. At some point you do manage to piss off enough people that not even the Omega Houses want you staying there. And an unclaimed Omega on the street is never good, especially during their heat.

"You took my brush again, Lila," a younger burnett says aggressively following a shorter blonde one.

"Well maybe don't leave it in my room," the smaller retorts.

It's bustlingly busy as Omegas rush up and down the stairs, talking loudly to be heard over the others.

A boy come up to me, a large smile painted on his face and eyes wide with excitement.

"Oh my god," he says grabbing my arms, "you are so cool! Are you sure your not a beta?"

"I'm sure," I chuckle, shrugging his hands off of me.

"Why were the betas chasing you?" He nearly shouts as a loud group of Omegas passes us.

"I stole their wallets," I reach into my pocket and pull out the two wallets I had snatched with a grin.

"No way!" His eyes glitter with admiration.

I tuck them back in my pocket and look at the busy stairs.

"Oh you can stay with me," he says grabbing my arm, "most if the other rooms are full but I have another bed in mine that you can use."

He pulls me up the stairs, making sure to keep ahold of me so I don't get washed away in the sea of bodies.

It's a five story building, and males and females pour from each floor, all different. Different height, color, accents, styles. But there is one thing that all have in common, hell even I have it in common what the them.
Our white collars.

We can't take them off, even if we tried. Only an Alpha can take it off. And they only do that to replace it with one of their own, showing that we are claimed.

Mine is never coming off.
Ever.
Not over my dead body.

Unlike other Omegas, I keep mine tucked out of sight, wrapping the fabric of my black turtleneck around it so it can't be seen. I also mask my scent as much as I can. Most of the clothes I'm wearing don't belong to me. The turtleneck, and hoodie are from two different betas, and the leather jacket, jeans and undergarments are from different alphas, and the boots and socks are mine.

Even with all that, I'm still scented sometimes. Heats are worse. I need to make sure I'm in an Omega House when it hits, otherwise, shit hits the fan.

We make it to the fifth floor finally and the Omega boy leads me to his room. It's small and tidy and smell like him, soft pine and mint.

He jumps onto his bed and cuddles into the pillows and stuffed animals atop it.

Topically, that is exactly what Omegas are like. Soft, lovable, little cuties like him, that betas and alphas are so posed to protect and cherish.

"Oh I'm Peter by the way," he says, popping his head out from under a large bear, "what's your name?"

"Don't have one," I sigh.

"You don't have a name?" His brow furrows, "but everyone gets a name on their presentation day."

But I ran away before my presentation day. I knew what I was, everyone did, and no one there was kind or caring towards Omegas. The alphas would fight over Omegas, even if it was clear the Omega wasn't ready. They would claim Omegas just to claim them and prove they were better. And when they were bored of them, they would toss them aside and find another. It's the cruelest thing any alpha can do. Once an omega is claimed, they are bound to the alpha that did it and can't be claimed by another.

I lay down on the second bed with a sigh.

I didn't want that. I don't want to be claimed at all. I want to be free. Free to do what I want and not be beaten for it.

But my body is a bitch.

Heats are becoming more frequent, and more intense, screaming and begging for me to find an alpha. But I fight it. I hide in Omega Houses until it passes no matter how many alphas I can scent prowling outside, aromas promising to make the pain go away. Nearly half the citiy's alphas were waiting outside the last Omega house, trying to coax me to come out and let one of them claim me.

"Do you have something people call you?" Peter says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Omegas typically call me Ghost," I shrug.

"Why Ghost?"

"Cuz I show up out of no where, stay for a bit, cause some mischief and mayhem, then I leave," I answer, leaving out the part about my heats.

"Oh," he seems almost disappointed, "so I guess I'll call you Ghost then."

I nod while closing my eyes. It's been a while since I've slept on a bed and I feel like I could sleep forever, even on the lumpy mattress.

"PIZZA!" a male calls through the house, the faint aroma of the food wafting up the stairs.

Peter jumps to his feet but I lay still.

"You wanna come down or do you want me to bring some up for you?" He asks stopping at the doorway.

"Could you bring some up?"

"Sure, what type?" He smiles.

"Anything but sausage," I raise a finger, "I fucking hate sausage pizza."

"Gotcha," he laughs before dashing downstairs, "PIZZA!"

I laugh at his cuteness.

He's an Omega that's been pampered since his presentation. I sort of envy him for it.

I get to my feet and look at the calendar that he has hanging on his wall, muttering to myself as I count the days.

"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen."

Eighteen days until my next heat.