The procedure isn't what the women had whispered about in the dorms.
There's no rutting, no breeding chambers, no dark alpha bedroom where heat meets flesh.
(Gina has no experience in that.)
Instead, it's invasive and rather anticlimactic.
All she does is lie on a padded medical table while masked specialists in white quietly explain that insemination will be done artificially.
A mask comes down over her face, a quiet hiss of gas. Then she hears the doctor speak: "Artificial insemination sequence initiated."
When she wakes, it's all over. A dull ache throbs in her lower belly.
She touches her stomach, her palm splayed across the grey uniform now back in place. She stares at the ceiling, whispering a prayer she's long forgotten how to say.
Let it work. Please. Let it take form.
For my grandfather.
---
8 days later, the results come in.
Gina sits alone in the sterile observation chamber, hands clenched on her lap. She and the other women had been separated and given their own quarters for the time they were waiting for the seed to take.
Gina actually feels rested and bright eyed with the absence of secret beatings and the aggressions of the remaining candidates.
She just hopes that this session brings good news.
Five minutes later, the same lab attendant from the first day enters the room, reading from a small tablet.
The woman spends some time looking through her notes and fiddling with her tablet before looking up and pinning her with a blank look.
"Omega Regina Lowell, from the test result it appears that the artificial insemination didn't yield the desired outcome. The embryo failed to achieve successful implantation." The woman sounds bored as she says this, clearly expecting the outcome.
Taking a deep breath, she finishes.
"You're not pregnant."
Silence.
Gina doesn't understand. "There must be—"
"There isn't." The woman gestures sharply and armed men come in, "Escort her off the property."
Just like that. Her chance is gone.
The sky is bleeding dusk when she steps out of the facility's perimeter. She clutches the small duffel bag they returned to her, the stipend already voided. There would be no money. No help.
She doesn't make it far.
A black car skids to a stop beside her. The windows roll down.
Two men she recognizes immediately climb out.
Her stomach drops with dread. They are the loan sharks.
The men are muscle-bound and tattooed, their aggressive alpha smell blocking her breath and the stink of cigars and alcohol clings to them like sweat.
Fuck. Its too soon.
"You think you can run from us?" The man snarls, grabbing her by the arm.
She cries out, tries to pull away, but the second man punches her in the gut. She folds, gasping.
"S-stop, please!" She begs but it only seems to rile them up.
They pin her against the wall, regardless of her struggles and their leader leans into her space with a sneer on his scared face.
"Thought you could run off and forget your debt, huh?" He hisses, mence radiating from every pore.
His name is Martin and Gina had been dealing with him for as long as she can remember.
Normally, she can whiddle her way into his good graces by advancements and promises to pay but the alpha wants none of that today.
The Omega sobs silently, "I—I didn't forget," Gina whispers, voice cracking.
He backhands her. Her head snaps sideways, cheek already swelling.
"You think I give a shit about a little slut like you? You think you're special?"
Two other men close in behind him. More sharks with a rms like tree trunks.
One pulls her bag away and rifles through it.
"Nothing," he grunts, tossing the ratty duffel with a curse.
Martin steps closer. "Your grandfather's life is up for forfeit. Do you understand? It's gone." He says, snapping his fingers in front of her face.
No, not him.
"I'll find another way—"
"You won't." he says with absolute certainty.
And then a fist buries itself in her stomach. She collapses with a grunt, vision blackening at the edges.
Martin crouches beside her. "You'll work it off. On your back. I know people who'll pay good money for a breeder like you. Pretty little thing with green eyes and no spine to speak of."
Gina shakes her head weakly, crawling back. "No—please—" She tries to say through her convulsing throat but he grabs her by the hair, yanking her up once more. "We're done being polite, sweetheart."
She scrambles at his grip with desperate hands, her eyes blurring with tears of pain, "I swear! I swear I'll get you your money!" She gasps out, trying to meet his hard eyes.
Martin pauses ay whatever he sees in her gaze and finally, mercifully, let's go of her hair, allowing her to drop painfully to the ground.
She grunts at the impact bit statys still and silent, daring hardly to breathe as she waits for a response.
"Fine." Martin finally drawls, eyes back to their lazy quality, " We'll give you some more time to get us the money."
Gina releases a gust of wind from her bruised chest in relief, her eyes closing momentarily.
She still has time. Time to save grandfather and their house.
But before she can relax fully, martin leans over with a small grin, "but first we got to punish you for trying to skirt off with our money."
Gina starts shaking again, "p-please, I'm begging you." She whispers but the man's smile just widens
"A little too late for that, don't you think?" He teases before pulling his fist back and smashing it against her face.
She screams, curling up into a fetal position.
No one hears.
Fists rain down around her. Blood fills her mouth. Something cracks in her ribs.
The last thing she sees before blacking out is a boot raised above her face.