Avery’s POV
The sun was setting on another day of hard work. I stretched wearily, feeling my shirt draw tight over chafed skin. My shoulders and back ached from bending low over my tasks. I walked over to my water bottle and chugged it, grateful for the cool water.
I was eager to collapse into my bed. To go unconscious for a few hours, and then repeat it all the next day. These endless days had stretched into endless weeks, and I had found the pattern of survival. Eat, sleep, work, repeat.
It was mindless, endless punishment. Was this how my mother had felt, most of her life, I wondered? She, too, had been relegated to the rank of omega slave, and had worked her entire life for the dubious honor of remaining in the pack where her daughter lived.
Was I merely walking in her footsteps
