Nobody on the team knew about him, and he fully intended to keep it that way. He hated secrets. They were toxic, like an infection simmering in a wound. It wouldn't go away, and it would continue to worsen and spread. Only once it was lanced and cleansed could it start to heal. The biggest proof of that was Cutter and Stephen's relationship. The Alphas had been the best of mates, a cooperating pair ruling over their little pack, until Helen. That psychotic bitch had torn them apart, driven a rift between the two that wouldn't ever be healed, not entirely. They had kept their secrets, and it had broken them in the end.

But he didn't have the luxury of telling the truth. It would've been disastrous. He'd be tracked down by hormone-crazed Alphas, probably caught and bonded to someone he didn't like or know. It was better that he kept his mouth shut. And he had. For eleven years. Not even his bloody parents knew about him. The only other person in the world that did know was his twin sister, but only because he'd never been able to hide anything from her. She had vowed to keep his secret, knowing just how hard it would be for him.

Eventually, he'd lived his lie so long that it became more of a second truth rather than a lie. The innocuous white pill he took every morning, that was just routine. Like taking vitamins. That's all. Telling the ARC he was going to his parents for Christmas whilst telling his parents he was staying with his mates and spending a week curled up in some motel room in absolute burning agony, that was...nothing. It was just...coincidence.

Having at least a half-dozen prime Alpha males within smelling distance every day at work was either a tragic coincidence or a very nasty joke on the universe's part. He was willing to bet on the latter before the former. He avoided the soldiers as much as physically possible. Not only did were there more Alphas there, but they also had the confidence and physical prowess to give him an inferiority complex if he lingered too long. Lester was too frightening to even consider, and so was Jenny. Cutter was almost painfully straight, not to mention the fact that the Scottish Alpha was still hung up with his mysterious Claudia Brown and also doing some curious sorta-sparring/maybe-flirting with Jenny. But Stephen was...well, not. He was not frightening (most of the time) nor was he hung up on someone else (who the hell knew what was going on with him and Helen). Stephen had the same prowess and confidence that he lacked but wasn't a total berk about it the way the soldiers were. There was some friendly ribbing, but nothing harsh.

But he couldn't tell anyone about his secret, not even Stephen. He would have to hold his silence. Even if cool blue eyes and perpetually rumpled bed-hair filled his dreams and the tracker's name spilled from his lips as he twisted and writhed in an empty motel room, his skin on fire, he would keep quiet.

Being an Omega was no easy task, but he had learnt to survived anyways. To live out his life and his lie as a Beta. Connor didn't have any other choice.