I carry the struggling omega up the mountain path, her small fists pummelling my back in futile rebellion. Each impact is like a sparrow trying to take down a hawk, amusing in its audacity, doomed in its execution. Conri growls with satisfaction in the back of my mind as her sweet scent envelops us, the signature markers of a true omega impossible to mistake. 'Mine,' he insists with primal certainty. 'Ours.' For once, my wolf and I are in perfect agreement. This little treasure stumbled into my territory, and possession is the only law that matters in the wild.
'She's got fight,' Conri observes as another tiny fist connects with my shoulder blade.
'For now,' I reply silently. We both know that spirit will need to be broken, or at least tamed, if she's going to serve her purpose in my pac
