The next day,

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The academy training yard smelled like rain and institutional cruelty.

Aria stood at the center of the dirt circle, watching the omegas file in.

Twelve of them. Boys and girls who had been told their entire lives that they were the bottom of the hierarchy. That their weakness was natural. That their submission was biology. That their only value was in service and surrender.

They looked at her with eyes that expected another lecture on compliance.

She looked back with the expression she usually reserved for targets.

"Line up," she said.

They shuffled into a ragged formation. Shoulders hunched. Eyes down. One boy was shaking. A...