Cynthia stood in front of me, a scowl on her face. "You're going to be late!" she hisses, as she frantically smoothes out my dress and apron then rushes to the other side of the room and grabs a brush, attempting to smooth out my hair.

I sigh. It would be nice to think Cynthia is worried for my sake, but I know without a doubt it's her palms she's worried about. Mistress Hawthorne has a wicked and accurate swing. She's a pro with both the switch and the cane. 

I refuse to be late. Not this close to the finish line. Not this close to freedom.

At the sound of heavy footfalls, Cynthia and I exchange an anxious glance, knowing it can only be one person.

As I nervously fumble, trying to get the bow on my apron just right, Mistress Hawthorne appears in the doorway, her usual disapproving gaze falling on Cynthia and me, who stands frozen beside me. Without a word, she marches into the room, pushing Cynthia out of the way.

"She should already be downstairs and in the car," she says, tying the bow on my apron so tight that I can't help the squeak that comes out of me. She finishes, grabbing me by the shoulders and practically shoving me out of my bedroom and down the stairs, Cynthia trailing behind us, her face red and head bowed.

It would be easier to be on time if they didn't insist on us omegas wearing so many layers of bloomers, skirts, and an apron. As if one layer less will lead to us being overcome by our weak and wayward omega nature.

Outside, Brother Pierce, our strict overseer, waits beside the open car door. I scramble into the vehicle, grateful for the temporary escape from Mistress Hawthorne's criticism and ever-watchful eye. Cynthia squeezes in next to me, ready to play chaperon and spy. Constantly vigilant to ensure proper conduct, especially around men. 

It's completely unnecessary. Brother Pierce is a rule-follower if ever I saw one. He probably has yet to even think of breaking one of the many rules that govern the Protectorate.

I take a deep breath, repeating the mantra that's carried me through these last months, even when I want to scream or rage. When I want to march into my father's office and tell him to his face that I know he's a liar and demand that he open the gates and let me go.

Four more days. Four more days. Four more days. I repeat it to myself like a prayer.

I'm so close to freedom I can taste it. 

As soon as the car stops in front of the church, I open the door and jump out, not waiting for Brother Pierce to escort me out as usual. I refuse to get into any trouble and draw negative attention to myself this close to our planned escape. I won't risk ending up on punishment, locked in my room or the punishment hut.

Plus, I don't want to be caned by sister Fisher. It will be harder to travel if my backside is bruised. 

The thought of finally being free fills me with paranoia. I'm constantly on edge, fearing that my chance will be taken away from me in an instant. The closer I get to freedom, the clearer my vision and hope for the future becomes, the more anxious I get about leaving this place for good.

Something I've only done once in my fifteen years on this planet. Though I learned too late the true purpose of such a gift. As always with my father, it was not to my benefit that I got my first view of life outside of the community.

Cynthia mutters as she stumbles out of the car, hurrying to catch up with me. "We're not allowed to run!"

"I'm not running, I'm simply walking at a quick pace." I glance at her and catch her rolling her eyes, she quickly stops when she notices my gaze. I shoot her a slight smirk, silently assuring her that I won't tell Mistress Hawthorne on her, and she visibly relaxes, breathing out a sigh of relief.

I wish I could take her with me. No one should have to live in constant fear of punishment for every little infraction, but I've already risked being ratted out twice by including my two best friends, and besides, Cynthia is a beta. She doesn't face the hell that we Omega's do.

I took an awful risk confiding in Naomi and Ella, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving them behind or keeping the truth about our world from them. There are three other Omega's in our sect and although I feel an insane amount of guilt leaving them behind I'm almost certain they are true believers and would immediately go to the council to tell them that three Omega's were not only planning to flee but spreading lies as well. It's impossible to be sure though. Perhaps they possess the same skills in acting and deception as Naomi, Ella, and I do.

I soothe my guilt knowing that I will immediately file a report with the Omega Protection Bureau, also known as the OPB the second I'm free of this place. 

I'm their only hope, especially since they don't know it exists. It's not their fault. I didn't know it existed either until two years ago. I didn't know a lot of things until two years ago.

Two years ago, I received a letter from my brother, Cameron. I still don't know who managed to smuggle it in, but I'll forever be grateful. Memories of the last time I saw my brother still haunt me.

The air had been tense, voices raised in anger, and doors slamming shut for the last two days. From the upstairs hallway, I'd watched as my brother stormed out of the house, tears streaming down his face. My father's expression was dark and furious as he handed my brother over to two men I'd never seen before, waiting at the front door.

By the time I'd made it downstairs, they were already driving away with my brother in the back seat.

I'd tried to ask my father what was going on. His response had been typical ordering me to go to my room and informing me that I had no business involving myself in the affairs of men.

Nearly two hours later, Mistress Hawthorne had come to retrieve me, informing me that my father wished to speak to me in his study, where he informed me that my brother had taken his presentation test and had tested as an Alpha.

It was natural to cry. I knew what it meant. For Cameron and for me. I'd never see him again or speak with him. It was like a death. My father had stood abruptly, knocking his knuckles on his desk to grab my attention. His face stern. "No! There will be none of that. There will be no tears." 

I'd quickly whipped my tears, Fearing punishment. We weren't allowed outward displays of emotion after our twelfth birthday. I glanced down at my boots, taking a moment to compose myself and gain control over my emotions.

My father sighed, "You know our laws. He is banned from this day forward. He will be removed from the legacy logs. He will never be mentioned. His name never spoken. I'm I understood?"

I nodded, giving a contrite, "Yes, Father." There was nothing else to do, nothing else to be said. I glanced at him in time to see him give a curt nod. "You may go."

I'd turned on my heel and left, happy to be rid of him. Throughout the rest of the day, I didn't allow myself to think of Cameron or acknowledge what had happened, not until that night. Then I'd let myself weep and every night thereafter for months. 

I worried for him. Where had he gone? Who would take care of him? Who would feed him? He had yet to reach the age of maturity at which the higher-ranking men were given the knowledge of the inner workings of our various sects and communities and the outside world and at three years my senior he was only sixteen. 

He'd only been outside the compound of our sect a handful of times. He'd shared what he'd learned on those trips with me so I knew he didn't know much. For over a year I worried he was dead. 

It had been a dark time, a hopeless time. It had brought up memories of our mother's passing, of that loss. Even though I hadn't known my mother well, her loss still weighed heavily on me. She was rarely allowed to care for me, but the moments she was allowed to have with me were full of love and affection. Mistress Hawthorne often scolded her for being too affectionate towards me,of spoiling me, but I believe my mother was just as starved for love and touch as I was, allowed even less time with my brother.

Knowing what I now know about packs makes me mourn her loss even more. She would have loved being part of a pack and having a real family. She would have thrived, of that I'm sure.

With my mother's passing at least we'd been allowed a week of mourning as was customary. With the loss of my brother, I had to pretend it had never happened. That he had never happened. 

It wouldn't have made sense to my father to see me so distraught over Cameron leaving even if it had been allowed. He had no idea just how close Cameron and I were. As was expected of Cameron he paid me little to no attention in the presence of others. I was, beneath his notice, a female and, worse yet, an omega. Prized yes, but looked down on. 

But Cameron had been my hero, secret keeper, and partner in crime and it was Cameron who had shared the secret of the storage closet on the second floor in the servants' hallway.

At the back of the large storage closet, there was a vent, and if you opened that vent you could hear everything that took place in Father's study below, where he held meetings with the council both within our sect and without at the large conference table that seated ten. 

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His letter came a little over a year after Cameron was cast out and left for me in the storage closet on a crate near the back where I usually sat to eavesdrop on my father's meetings. My name was neatly printed, and I recognized his handwriting immediately. In the lengthy letter, he'd given me not only hope but the keys to my freedom if I was brave enough to reach for it, and so many details about my rights and truths about the world that even with all of our spying, we'd never learned.

Omega's were free, there was an entire agency dedicated to our freedom and protection. Cameron had filed a report with them. He'd given them a list of the Omega's in our community and when they showed up they'd ask to speak to us alone, ask if we were being held against our will, we'd be given the option to leave and informed of our rights, and not even my father had the power to stop them.

Unfortunately, the agency was overwhelmed with work. There were countless communities and homes that needed to be looked into, where omegas may be held against their will or not informed of their rights. It would likely take years before they could make it to these remote mountains. By then, I might have been moved or married off, and Cameron would have no way of finding me and neither would the OPB.

The best option he had given me was to wait a few years and take control of my own life before I turned sixteen. He provided the name of a contact in a nearby city, just a couple hours' drive from our compound, who would help me. She was an omega who'd formally worked for the OPB. He had given her my name and description so she knew to keep a lookout for me. She would provide me with more information and help me get to the train station and from there to the nearest OPB center. Cameron had also included his cell number so I could contact him once I escaped and assured me that he would never stop trying to help me on his end as well.

He had warned me not to confide in even my most trusted friends. If anyone leaked information, I would be relocated immediately and there would be no way to escape. This was the strategy used by the Protectorate when handling omegas who became aware of their rights or tried to leave. They knew that the OPB might be close behind if an omega managed to get out.

The letter was what had set me on my current course, it was what led to the revelation that almost everything I'd been told about the world and my place in it was a lie.

The OPB had been created nearly a century ago. Little by little, through the congress, the senate, and private charitable organizations, they had chipped away at the chains that kept Omega's little better than chattel to be bought and sold.

After years of determination, the OPB had achieved its ultimate goal. Omegas were now recognized as equals to alphas and betas, with all the same rights. No longer were omegas considered mere property to be controlled by their families, spouses, or packs. They finally had autonomy over their lives, but many were unwilling to relinquish their control over omegas so easily.

Of course, I wasn't supposed to know any of this. The Protectorate was careful not to let outside information filter into their various sects and communities. The Protectorate still taught that it was the current law that Omega's had no autonomy. Belonging to their fathers and then to their husbands. Others trusted to see to their welfare.

From what I had gleaned by spying on my father and his council, the Protectorate sect and the Brethren sect had gone to great lengths to keep the truth of the changing world from the women in their communities. 

I suspected that some of the female Beta's also knew the truth since they weren't as tightly controlled as Omega's.

The council had probably sold them on the idea of keeping it secret by claiming that it was god's will and necessary to keep the poor addled wayward Omega's in check and on the righteous path, lest they go astray.

The sect denied Omegas packs. Alphas were painted as little better than animals dangerous to omegas, with animalistic, unbridled sinful urges. They would corrupt omegas and packs were the worst of sins. The thought of multiple partners disgusting and abhorrent. 

Omegas were always married to the top Betas in their sect, sometimes in other sects. Even though it meant that most Omegas did not live to see forty. Not having an Alpha to help with their heats put a strain on an omegas heart and over time both their heart and bones weakened.

When Addison had gotten her omega designation she had immediately been put into the omega indoctrination classes, although she hadn't realized it at the time. She had been told they were special classes for omegas. Omega tutoring. Teaching them about their bodies, how to suppress their shameful omega nature, and how to be dutiful wives. 

Packs and Alphas had only been painted in the negative and rarely mentioned. Even with all of the spying on her father, his phone calls, and meetings she'd learned very little about the truth of them or how they functioned but she was insatiably curious. Up until a few months ago, she'd never even seen an Alpha before. Not even a picture. Only betas and omegas existed in the Protectorate. 

She'd been raised to suppress so many of her Omega urges, especially nesting. They'd even gone so far as to limit how many pillows and blankets Addison had access to so she couldn't give in to her omega instincts and nest. 

The parenting part of the classes was undoubtedly the most difficult for Addison. It stirred up memories of her mother and her deep love for Addison, but it also uncovered a horrifying reality. Addison had always assumed that her mother chose to spend so little time with her, but now she realized the truth. Her mother's time had been monitored and regulated. She hadn't been given a choice and if Addison stayed in the Protectorate and had children she wouldn't be given one either.

They claimed it was to squash the immoral and weak nature of omegas. Omegas were too touchy, too affectionate, too needy.

Addison understood now how her mother must have suffered. She had probably been constantly touch-starved.

Addison knew she had to escape. She couldn't take the chance and hope that the OPB would show up to save her in time. She was almost sixteen, and thanks to her spying she knew that a match had been made for her. Once she turned sixteen, she would likely be sent away to live in her soon-to-be husband's community. She'd memorized all the important information in her brother's letter in case anything happened to it, but even if she managed to get hold of a phone and speak to him there wouldn't be much he could do. She knew so little of the world she probably wouldn't even be able to tell him where her new community was located. 

The Protectorate and the Brethren, two sects that were once at odds, had agreed to unite. They were pushing back against the government and trying to get the new laws overturned. And as part of this union, Addison's marriage would serve as a symbol of their integration. It was a prestigious match, far beyond her social standing.

Her father held the highest position in their sect, making him the leader of their community and a sort of governor. Only the bishop had the same rank as her father, but he was not part of the council that governed the entire Protectorate.

Her future fiance was the son of Councilman Matthews, a powerful figure on the council that governed the entire Brethren community. This was a highly desired role, much more prestigious than her father's current position.

It had been Addison's curse to be born beautiful. With her coal black hair and golden eyes, her father had once told her she had an eerie beauty, whatever that meant. She'd only been ten years old at the time, she hadn't understood that being beautiful was not a good thing when you were born into the Protectorate. 

Addison's father had yet to tell her the news. She wondered when he would do so and hoped that she'd be gone before he could tell her. The thought of having to feign happiness and gratitude was daunting, even for someone as skilled as she was at lying.

Six months ago she'd left their gated community for the first time in her life. Her father had only informed her three days before the morning of their departure and the only information he'd given was that they were attending a wedding.

A special invitation had been offered by the head of the Protectorate to attend his daughter's wedding and Addison was to accompany her father. She should have known that her father choosing to have her attend the wedding with him was not simply for the joy of her company. 

It had relieved Addison to know they were going to a wedding and would only be gone overnight, at least she knew she would be returning and it had calmed Naomi and Ella as well to know that she'd come back. She'd promised them she wouldn't take the opportunity to run, leaving them behind. They'd go together in six months as planned.

It was however an opportunity to look around, to get a feel for the world outside of their community, and staying overnight at a hotel was useful too since they would have to utilize hotels at least a couple of times when they ran. The closest OPB center was hundreds of miles away in Washington. 

The next day new clothes had been delivered for Addison, two traveling outfits and a wedding outfit. Designed to the Protectorates approved dress code of course. Which meant Addison pretty much looked like she was wearing a very fancy, very virginal-colored sack.

They left early in the morning for their six-hour drive. There hadn't been much to see for the hour-long drive down the mountain or at the gas station they'd stopped at located at the bottom of the mountain.

Unfortunately, Sister Russell, the strictest teacher in the school, was accompanying them as a chaperone and to help her dress instead of Cynthia. This was disappointing, as Sister Russell was known for being even more strict than Mistress Hawthorne.

Of course, none of that had mattered to Addison the minute they'd hit the highway. She had been tired, unable to sleep the night before thanks to her excitement and anxiety about leaving the community for the first time but she couldn't bare to close her eyes and rest once they hit the highway. 

It was a feast for the eyes and Addison couldn't help but constantly gaze at everything around her, asking endless questions about the sights she saw. The bustling streets were filled with an abundance of people, cars, shops, and restaurants that flew by in a blur. Her father had been quick to silence her endless questions but it hadn't dulled her excitement at seeing so many new things one bit.

When they'd finally reached the hotel Addison had been disappointed that she'd been made to wait in the car while they were checked in then driven into an underground parking lot and ushered into the elevator which connected right to their rooms. She hadn't gotten to see the lobby or get closer to all the people or any of the sights she'd spied as they'd driven into the city, or when they'd left. In fact, her father, his security, and sister Russell had been very careful to make sure she had as little contact with anyone outside of the Protectorate or Brethren the entire time she was outside of the community, but all that effort still hadn't kept her from seeing an alpha for the first time.

Seeing everything flying by while they were on the highway was one thing, it had all been pretty far away. Sitting in traffic within the city, pressed so close to the sidewalks, to the people she could have rolled down her window and reached out and touched them was quite another. And the way they dressed! Especially the women. Addison couldn’t help the burn of envy that rolled through her. 

When they'd pulled up in front of the hotel, letting her father and two of his security out she'd seen him and just known on an instinctual level, what he was. Her mouth falling open had probably been what alerted sister Russell and luckily she'd assumed Addison was distressed by the sight of an Alpha for the first time, but in truth, she was simply in awe.

Sure there had been a bit of fear and she was definitely intimidated but it had mostly been awe. Awe at his size and beauty. She had to restrain herself from opening the car door, jumping out, and running up to him to pester him with all manner of questions. Addison wondered if he would have been irritated like her father, like men always seemed to be with women, especially if that woman was an omega or if he'd be different. If he'd smile. If he'd answer her patiently. 

It had all been over too soon. Too soon they were driving off and turning into the underground parking garage. She'd glanced at sister Russell sure she had noticed her reaction and indeed she had, luckily for Addison she'd misread her reaction. sister Russell had smirked, nodding sagely, "You see? Be grateful that you have been blessed to be so protected. Out here," she said nodding toward the Alpha as he headed down the sidewalk, "You'd be prey to the likes of him."

Addison had given the appropriate nod her eyes on her lap, a sad thoughtful expression painted on her face, but she couldn't stop wondering about him on and off for the rest of the day and well into the night.