The Beta Grift
Ever since I was a kid, mom told me I was a beta.
“You come from a long line of betas, Mags, and that’s the best place to be. Remember: omegas are slaves to their designation. As a beta, you’re free.”
Imagine my surprise, then, when all the tests came back conclusive:
Omega.
Now I’m doing my best to hide what I am, slinking from pack to pack as a beta for hire and dodging my fate. Along with my best friend Kip, his twin brother Kaden, and Nik, an alpha with a chip on his shoulder, we grift the elite West Coast packs of all they’re worth, milking them dry before moving on.
It’s a comfortable enough life, but I can’t shake the feeling that my days of freedom are numbered. How long can I keep up the act?
How long until the grift falls apart?
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