Damian Porte

My name is Damian. I'm 26 years old. I'm an alpha. In this world, alphas are those who serve. Not those who rule. I know my place: on my knees, with my eyes downcast, my voice quiet. I do what I have to do and keep quiet. That's all I know. If I slip, I'll be punished. If I look up, I'll be punished. I've learned to be invisible. I've learned to be the one who goes unnoticed. Because that's the only way to survive. I have short black hair, earrings, and gray eyes. I grew up in a world where alphas don't rule—they serve. My father worked in the omega house, just like his father before him. I don't know what freedom is. I don't know what choice is. I only know how to lower my eyes, how to remain silent, how to do what I'm told. My family are alphas like me. My mother died when I was little. She wasn't given her medicine because the omega she served decided he no longer needed her. I didn't cry. I had no right to cry. I have no friends. I can't trust them. I can't trust anyone. Anger burns inside me, but I've learned to hide it. My body is not my own. My will is not my own. I'm tired. But I can't show it. Because if I show weakness, I'll be punished. Or killed. I do my job. I keep quiet. I survive.