Page 37 of Knot Their Arrangement

I can't show weakness. Not here. Not now.

"Could I perhaps speak with a manager?" I keep my voice steady, and professional. "Surely we can negotiate something."

The woman pauses, really looking at me now. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rise as she takes in every detail of my appearance with exaggerated attention.

"Negotiate?" She practically purrs the word. "Do you really think you can afford to be here?"

Her gaze rakes over my saree with undisguised contempt.

"In this place, wearing those ugly tatters that probably don't even cost a hundred dollars, let alone the thousands that every single person here wears?"

I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off with a theatrical sigh, leaning across the counter until I can smell her overpriced perfume. Her smirk grows wider, but her eyes remain cold and heartless — like a predator playing with its food.

"Let me make something very clear," she whispers, each word dripping with venom. "Brown people aren't accepted in places like these. At least, not poor Omegas like you. The Indians we service here are royalty, and even they are only privileged out of status. Nothing more."

Heat floods my face as anger rises in my chest.

"Everything you just said is racist!"

She giggles –actually giggles– at my accusation.

"Oh? So if I emphasize that Omegas here are worthless, are you going to call me sexist too?" Her smile turns cruel. "Get a reality check, honey. THIS is called hierarchy. You can't be mad that you don't fit in it."

"I am of royal heritage," I snap back, though even as the words leave my mouth, I know it's a mistake. My past isn't something I should have to prove to someone like her.

Her laughter turns mocking as she starts pointing out each piece of my attire.

"Let's see...that saree, while trying very hard to look expensive, is clearly machine-made, not hand-woven. What is it, silk blend? Maybe three hundred at most." Her finger moves to my jewelry. "Those bangles – decent quality but definitely not from any luxury house. Another hundred there."

She continues her brutal assessment, breaking down every piece of my outfit like she's conducting an inventory.

"Those sandals? Please. I've seen better quality at street markets. Fifty dollars if I'm being generous."

Each word is designed to strip away dignity, to remind me of my supposed place in her world.

"All together, you're not even hitting a thousand dollars. And you want to walk into Sacred Divine?" She shakes her head with mock sympathy. "You're probably one of those helpless Omegas from the shelters or safe havens who only come to these things as a last resort because they don't want to become sex dolls for a few hours."

Her smile turns vicious.

"How amusing that you people don't value yourselves until that control is going to be taken away."

For once in my life, I find myself completely speechless.

I stare at this woman, this perfectly polished example of everything wrong with our society, and realize I've met my match. Not because she's better than me, or smarter, or more worthy, but because there's no arguing with someone who has embraced their role in others' oppression so completely.

What can you say to someone who wants to crucify you?

Who would rather see a fellow woman –an Omega who differs from her only by circumstances of birth– forced down a path of exploitation than extend even the smallest protection?

She sits behind her fancy desk, wielding her minimal power like a sword, never considering that her privileges are as fragile as the designer perfume wafting between us.

The frustrated tears begin to pool in my eyes before I can stop them, hot and humiliating. I force them back with practiced desperation, my father's voice echoing in my head like a curse.

"Omegas are nothing but weak bitches,"he would say, his voice carrying that particular tone of disgust he reserved for those he deemed beneath him."They're meant to be found by Alphas who will deem them worthy enough to keep around."

The irony of his words stings even now.

When he spoke them, he had no idea his daughter would present as an Omega. But he knew –he always knew– that his wife was one. My mother, who raised me with boundless love despite everything, and now has to turn against me because her Alpha husband has the final say.

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