Jasmine Mas

It would be less shocking if I were an omega and turned into a small animal, like a fluffy raccoon, or a rat.

Alphas were big beasts, and I was a little bitch—physically, not emotionally. Obviously.

A horrifying realization hit me: Was I becoming a villain?

I do look good in black.

You can’t leave us with Aran,” voices wailed back, and we all cried harder at the thought of them being stuck with Aran

I ignored my lack of mental health and relied on inappropriate humor and unhealthy coping mechanisms to survive.

“I would like to challenge the girl from the alpha team!”

Every person turned to stare at me.

Fuck you, universe.

I pointed at Ascher and asked, “Him?”

A part of me liked that I’d caused such a stir. She was toxic Sadie, and I wasn’t proud of her.

As a result, I’d smiled and nodded while Cobra ranted at me, but truthfully, I’d zoned out as soon as he’d started speaking.

All I was getting was that he was obsessed with me.

The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was the crowd chanting, “Meat Grinder.”

I was a PR god.

If he wanted to look dumb with a clear coat, it wasn’t my problem. Some people had no taste.

Then, like mature, adult women, Aran and I held hands and jumped up and down while we squealed.

Suddenly, Aran jumped up and landed on the ground in a full split.

I screamed, “Oh shit!”

My legs and vagina cramped as Aran held the split. Touching my fingers to my toes was still out of my range of physical abilities.

But I didn’t let it hold me back.