Brad

Brad was a male Omega. That was it. That was the problem—or, rather, the non-problem, until he stepped foot in Red Valley. He had accepted Max’s “generous” APB bonus with visions of cushy work, maybe a few perks, and definitely zero chaos. Simple stuff. But Red Valley was not simple. Red Valley was every single omegaverse cliché mashed together with a few fan-fiction extras nobody asked for. Here, male Omegas could apparently get pregnant. Pregnant. Brad blinked. Twice. Three times. Nope. Not happening. Any alpha that looked at him got a swift boot to the ribs. Or, if he was feeling generous, a polite shove into a wall. Everyone else seemed to glide through this lunacy with terrifying ease. Were the alphas all overgrown puppies in control of nothing? Check. Were the betas running for cover at the slightest whiff of trouble? Double check. Was Max, the supposed pack leader, entirely incapable of looking competent for more than three minutes at a time? Absolutely. And yet, somehow, this pack functioned. Or at least pretended to. Brad realized that the moon goddess must have been having a particularly cruel day when designing Red Valley. Maybe she was laughing somewhere in the cosmos as he stumbled through another “what is happening” moment. He tightened his jaw, squared his shoulders, and muttered to himself: money was definitely not worth this. And yet… he stayed. Curiosity. Survival instinct. Or maybe the faint hope that one day, just one day, he’d witness something that made even a shred of sense. Welcome to Red Valley, Brad.