Michael Reese.
I was wrong. It was absolutely horrible to be an Omega. Glaring at the medicine the doctors handed over to me, I realized how shitty my situation was.
I wasn’t listening to what he was saying, and he didn’t seem to notice as he kept doing his doctor thing, checking my body, fascinated by the concoction Casey gave me to be able to move.
“Anyway, since we aren’t sure which suppressor will work, I’d suggest staying at home and try these first. Your heat is irregular, but we can try our best to regulate it. For now, please stay inside. . .”
“Hold on. I have to stab myself with this thing every fricking day?” I told the doctor, holding a small injection in my hand, glowering at it. “Is this really necessary,” I added, refusing to believe that, from now on, my life would get
