THE OMEGA.
1373 Words
Everything goes quiet after that voice, not the kind of silence that brings relief, but the kind that settles heavy in your chest and makes it harder to breathe, like something unseen has taken control of the moment and no one dares to challenge it.
No one moves.
Not the guards, not the executioner, and not even the crowd that had been so loud just seconds ago, all of them now frozen as if they suddenly remembered something they should fear.
My heart was still racing, still loud in my ears, uneven and frantic, as I slowly turned my head toward the source of it.
Toward him.
At first, I see nothing clearly, just a shadow against the light, the sun behind him casting his figure into something almost unreal, but as my eyes adjust, his shape sharpens, tall, broad-shouldered, unmoving.
And somehow… that stillness feels more dangerous than anything else.
The crowd begins to shift without being told, people stepping back, creating space, not because they were ordered to, but because they want distance, because something about him demands it.
Whispers rise, low and uneasy.
“That is him…”
“No… it can’t be…”
“It is…”
“Alpha Ronan…”
The name moves through the crowd like a warning.
My fingers curl slightly against the ground as I stare at him, my breath catching in my throat, because I know that name too.
Everyone does.
Stories passed in hushed voices, and warnings disguised as rumors.
They said no woman survived him.
They said something is wrong with him.
That he is not just dangerous, but cursed.
He walks forward slowly, and unhurried, like none of this matters, like none of us matter, his steps steady, controlled, and each one heavier than the last.
The guards holding me loosen their grip without realizing it, stepping back instinctively, and even the executioner lowers his sword slightly, uncertainty flickering across his face.
No one tells them to. They just do.
I swallowed, my throat dry.
And then he stepped fully into the clearing.
For the first time, I saw him clearly and my breath left me.
He was not at all what I expected.
Not older, not worn down, or not marked by whatever curse follows him.
He looks… strong.
Dangerously so.
His features were sharp, his expression were unreadable, and his eyes were dark and cold in a way that makes it feel like he is looking through everything, not at it.
There was no warmth in him.
None.
He stops a few steps away from Alpha Bran, and the shift in power is immediate, subtle but undeniable.
Bran was respected, but this man… This man is feared.
Bran straightens slightly, his shoulders tightening just enough to notice.
“To what do we owe this visit?” he asked, his voice controlled, careful.
Ronan says nothing at first. His gaze moved slowly and then landed on me.
Everything inside me stilled.
The noise, the fear and even the crowd seemed to be gone, like none of it exists anymore.
Why is he looking at me like that?
It feels wrong, too focused and too certain.
Like he sees something no one else does.
Like he sees something I don’t.
“I came for her,” he says finally, his voice low and even, “the omega.”
A ripple moves through the crowd instantly.
I blink, certain I misheard.
For me?
Bran’s brows draw together slightly.
“She is a condemned traitor,” he says, his tone tightening just a fraction, “she has already been sentenced.”
“I know.”
Ronan doesn’t look at him when he says it.
His gaze stays on me like nothing else matters.
Something about that makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t understand.
“Our laws demand her execution,” Bran continues, more firmly now, “whatever interest you have in her, it does not concern you.”
Ronan’s head tilts slightly, almost thoughtful.
“And yet,” he said calmly, “I am here.”
The words are simple, but there is something beneath them, something that makes the air feel heavier.
Bran’s jaw tightens.
“You cannot walk into my territory and take what you want.”
For a moment, the tension sharpens, stretching thin between them, like something is about to snap.
But Ronan just looks at him unmoved and unimpressed.
“Try and stop me, then,” he said and silence followed because everyone here already knows the truth.
My heart pounds harder, the sound of it filling my ears as I look between them, trying to understand what is happening.
Why me?
Nothing about this makes sense.
Bran exhales slowly, then glances past Ronan at the men behind him, his gaze lingering for just a second.
They stand still, silent, and dangerous in a way that feels practiced.
He then looked back at Ronan. “And what exactly do you want with her?” he asked.
This time, Ronan answered without pause.
“I want her.” The words settle over the clearing, heavy and final. “And I will take her.”
My stomach twisted as the crowd reacted instantly.
“She is just an omega…”
“Why would he want her?”
“That makes no sense.”
I shake my head slightly, trying to ground myself, but nothing feels real anymore.
This isn’t happening.
It can’t be.
Bran’s gaze shifts to me, and then, he smirks.
It was small, and almost subtle, but I see it, and something cold settled deep in my chest.
Because I understood that look.
He wasn’t confused, or questioning it.
He was entertained. “She is nothing,” Bran said, turning back to Ronan, his voice dismissive, and almost bored, “a wolfless omega, weak and useless.”
Each word lands, but I barely feel it.
Not anymore.
“Take her,” he adds with a careless shrug, “it makes no difference to me.”
A soft laugh rises somewhere in the crowd.
“She won’t last a week…”
“Not with him…”
“Poor thing…”
My breath caught because that was when it truly sinks in.
The stories, and the warnings about how no woman survived Ronan Salvatore.
Not for long.
My chest tightens, but this time it isn’t just fear of dying.
It was worse because before, I knew what was coming.
Now, I don’t.
Ronan moved, each step toward me is slow, deliberate, controlled, and my body tenses instinctively, every instinct screaming at me to move, to run, or to do something.
But I can’t.
I am still on my knees, still chained and still powerless.
He stopped in front of me and for a moment, neither of us speaks.
I force myself to look up, and to meet his gaze but I regret it instantly.
There was nothing soft there, nothing kind, and nothing human.
Only something dark.
Something that feels like it could swallow everything whole.
He studies me, his eyes moving over my face, not with curiosity, but with purpose, like he is confirming something.
Like he already knows the answer. Then he reaches out.
I stiffen as his fingers brush against my chin, lifting my face slightly, not rough, not gentle either, just… controlled.
“You are coming with me,” he said.
My lips part, but no words come at first.
What am I supposed to say?
Refuse him?
I swallowed, my voice barely steady.
“Why?”
The question feels small, and almost meaningless against him, but I need something, some reason, and something that makes this make sense.
His gaze holds mine for a moment longer.
Then he answers, “Because you are mine now.”
My heart stops.
The words echo in my chest, heavy, suffocating, final.
He claimed me immediately without much of a question or choice, and something inside me twists sharply, fear rising fast, cold and unfamiliar.
And in that moment, I understand something I didn’t before.
I was wrong.
Death was not the worst thing waiting for me.
This is.
Because whatever waits for me with him… It won’t be quick.
And it definitely won’t be merciful.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD