The Captured Omega's Savior

Chapter Five

WINTER

The dress slides over my skin like a threat.

White silk. Virgin bride aesthetic. Magnus's little joke because he knows exactly what I am under the failing suppressants. Anna's fingers work through my hair, braiding sections into something elaborate while Maria paints my face into submission. Their hands shake just enough to smear the first coat of lipstick.

"Sorry." Maria wipes the color away with a tissue that comes back pink. "Just nervous."

We all are. The whole house vibrates with the particular frequency of prey animals sensing slaughter. Even Magnus's wolves move different tonight—sharper, hungrier, like they're waiting for permission to feed.

"Hold still." Anna pins another section of hair. "He wants traditional. Classic. Timeless."

Words for valuable. Words for marketable. Words for the kind of omega that brings top dollar from whoever Magnus plans to sell me to after David gets bored.

The door opens without warning. Magnus fills the frame, ice-blue eyes cataloging every detail. Anna and Maria freeze like rabbits caught in headlights.

"Leave us."

They flee. Maria drops her makeup brush in her haste. It clatters against hardwood, the sound too loud in sudden silence.

Magnus crosses to where I sit at the vanity. His reflection looms behind mine—all sharp angles and calculated menace. When his hand settles on my bare shoulder, cold spreads from the contact point like infection.

"Beautiful." His thumb traces my collarbone. "David will be pleased."

"I'm sure he will be."

"Such careful words." His grip tightens. Not enough to bruise—he's too smart for marks that show—but enough to remind me how easily bones break. "Let me be less careful. Tonight you will smile. You will thank me for this opportunity. You will kiss David when he claims you and act like it's everything you've ever wanted."

"And if I don't?"

He leans down until his mouth brushes my ear. "Susan makes such pretty sounds when bones break. Did you know that? I discovered it three days ago when she tried to send a message outside pack lands."

My blood turns to slush. In the mirror, my face goes pale under Maria's carefully applied foundation.

"She healed, of course. Werewolf resilience is remarkable. But fingers remember breaking even after they mend." His other hand curves around my throat. Light. Almost gentle. "And young Beth... virgin wolves scream the loudest when you open them up. All that untouched potential spilling out."

"You wouldn't—"

"I killed your father for less than what you're thinking right now." His fingers flex against my pulse. "Cut Carlos's throat while his daughter watched from the garden. Made examples of anyone who breathed Judson's name with too much reverence. What makes you think I'd hesitate with two useless females?"

The suppressants burn in their hidden pockets. Regular ones that are failing by the hour. The military grade that could kill my wolf permanently. Neither will save Susan or Beth if I fight now.

"I'll behave."

"Yes. You will." He releases me, steps back. "David arrives within the hour. He specifically requested the innocent look, so Anna will return to finish your hair. You will not speak to her beyond necessities. You will not cry and ruin Maria's work. You will be perfect."

"Perfect."

"One more thing." He produces a small vial from his pocket. Clear liquid that catches light like water but moves wrong. "A gift from our buyers. Insurance, they called it."

"What is it?"

"Compliance." He sets it on the vanity. "One drop on your tongue before David takes you upstairs. It won't affect your awareness—they find that boring. But it will make your body... cooperative. Responsive. Eager, even."

Bile rises. I swallow it back.

"They think of everything."

"They pay for everything." Magnus moves to the door, pauses. "Oh, and Winter? I have wolves watching Susan and Beth specifically tonight. If anything unfortunate happens—if David suffers so much as a paper cut—they have orders to get creative. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

The words taste like ash. "Yes, Alpha."

He leaves. I count to thirty before Anna and Maria creep back in. Their faces mirror my own barely controlled terror.

"We have to finish." Anna's voice threads thin as spider silk. "He'll check."

They work in silence. I stare at the vial Magnus left like it might grow teeth. Compliance in a bottle. My body turned traitor while my mind watches. The perfect omega experience for buyers who want their victims aware but unable to resist.

The suppressants pulse against my ribs. Two different kinds of poison. Two different deaths. But neither will save the people I love if I use them wrong.

"Done." Anna steps back. "You look—"

"Don't."

She swallows whatever lie she was about to offer. In the mirror, I look exactly like what Magnus is selling. Young. Beautiful. Breakable. The white dress clings in all the right places, shows enough skin to advertise without giving away the product. My hair coils in elaborate braids that must have taken Anna years to perfect. Maria's painted my face into something between innocence and invitation.

David Fletcher will be pleased.

My stomach turns over at the thought. David with his wet laugh and grabbing hands. David who helped hold Carlos down while Magnus opened his throat. David who collects trophies from the women he breaks—little keepsakes to remember them by when their bodies won't work anymore.

"Winter?" Beth's voice comes through the door. "Magnus says it's time."

Anna and Maria exchange glances. They know what time means. What happens to omegas who get given to enforcers. What's left when alphas get bored with their toys.

I stand. The dress whispers against my legs like a warning. The regular suppressants have maybe an hour left. The military grade sits heavy in its hidden pocket. The compliance drug winks from the vanity.

So many ways to die tonight.

Beth waits in the hallway, pressed against the wall like she's trying to disappear into wallpaper. Her dark eyes track the bruises on her mother's wrist, the careful way Mrs. Morrison holds herself. Magnus's object lessons in obedience.

"You look beautiful." The words come out broken. "Winter, I—"

"Don't." I catch her hand. Squeeze once. "Whatever happens tonight, it's not your fault."

"He said if you fight, if you run—" Her voice cracks. "He'll make us watch. Make us help."

"I won't run."

Not yet. Not until I know Susan and Beth are safe. Not until I find an angle that doesn't end with the people I love bleeding out while Magnus makes his point about power.

The great hall thrums with anticipation. Magnus's wolves line the walls, their mates clustered in careful groups. The pack fills the space between—seventy-three souls who just want to survive another night. I catalog faces, sort threats from victims. The Donovan brothers who turned coat for privilege. Sarah Martinez, whose son Magnus uses as leverage. Old Tom, who can barely hold his human form but refuses to die.

Susan stands near the fireplace. Someone's dressed her in black—widow's weeds for the wife of a dead alpha. The bruises on her throat have faded to yellow-green. Her fingers curl and uncurl in a rhythm that might be counting. Or praying.

Our eyes meet across the room. Something passes between us. Warning. Apology. The kind of goodbye you share when words would get you killed.

David Fletcher waits by the bar Magnus set up for the occasion. He's changed since I saw him this morning—fresh clothes, hair slicked back, cologne thick enough to choke on. His brother James stands beside him, and the contrast strikes sharp. Where David grins with anticipation, James stares at the floor. Where David's hands flex with eagerness, James keeps his carefully still.

"There she is." Magnus's voice fills the space. "Our grateful orphan, dressed for her special night."

The room goes silent. Even breathing sounds too loud.

Magnus crosses to me, each step deliberate. His hand closes around my elbow. Not gentle. Possessive. The kind of grip that leaves fingerprints on bone.

"Come. Let everyone see what mercy looks like."

He drags me to the center of the room. The pack forms a circle without being told—they've learned the choreography of Magnus's cruelties. How to stand. Where to look. When to applaud atrocities.

"Three weeks ago, this pack lost its alpha." Magnus addresses the room but watches me. "Judson Solis fell to a righteous challenge. His beta Carlos Morrison chose death over submission. Tragic, but necessary. The old ways must give way to the new."

Someone whimpers. Magnus's eyes snap to the sound. Mrs. Chen pulls her daughter closer, both of them shrinking into themselves.

"But I am not without mercy." His grip tightens. "Winter Solis stands here alive. Fed. Sheltered. Protected. A beta orphan who could have been cast out to starve. Instead, I've found her a place. A purpose. A mate who will value what she offers."

David steps forward. His eyes rake over me like I'm meat on display. The hunger there makes my skin crawl.

"Tonight, we celebrate new beginnings. David Fletcher has proven himself invaluable to this pack's future. His strength. His loyalty. His vision for what we can become." Magnus pulls me closer to David. "And so I gift him this pack's greatest treasure. Winter Solis will become Winter Fletcher. Beta becomes cherished mate. Orphan becomes family."

The lie tastes copper-bright even from here. Beta. Cherished. Family. Words to dress up trafficking in tradition's clothes.

David reaches for me. His palm cups my cheek, thumb dragging across my lower lip. Testing. Tasting.

"So beautiful." His breath hits my face—whiskey and excitement and something sour underneath. "I've been waiting for this."

"As touching as young love is," Magnus continues, "we should observe the formalities. The claiming will be private, of course. But first, a toast to the happy couple."

Glasses appear from nowhere. Magnus's wolves distribute champagne with military precision. Even the children get glasses of something fizzy. Everyone must participate. Everyone must celebrate while Magnus sells me to a monster.

"To new beginnings." Magnus raises his glass. "To tradition honored and futures secured. To David and Winter."

"David and Winter." The pack echoes the words like a funeral prayer.

I raise my glass. The champagne tastes flat. Wrong. David's hand finds the small of my back, proprietary and pressing.

"Soon." He breathes the promise against my ear. "Magnus said I could claim you properly tonight. Make it official. I've prepared the room special."

My hand tightens on the crystal flute. One sharp edge. One quick motion. I could open his throat before anyone reacted.

But Magnus watches. Waits. His wolves flank Susan and Beth, casual but ready.

"I can't wait." The words come out steady. Training beats in my muscle memory—Dad teaching me to lie with my whole body. To sell the performance when lives depend on it.

David's grip goes possessive. "Good girl. Magnus said you might need encouragement, but I knew better. You're smart. Survivors always are."

The crowd mills around us. Pack members offer forced congratulations. Magnus's wolves leer and make suggestions about wedding nights. Through it all, I smile. Play grateful. Play beta. Play anything but the omega whose scent grows stronger with each passing minute.

Susan hasn't moved from the fireplace. Her eyes stay fixed on something beyond the room. Beth huddles with her mother near the kitchen door. Both under guard. Both leverage to keep me compliant.

"Time for the private celebration." Magnus appears at David's shoulder. "The night grows late, and young love shouldn't be kept waiting."

He produces the vial of compliance drug. Presses it into David's hand with a smile that promises horrors.

"For her nerves. One drop should be sufficient."

"Perfect." David pockets the vial. His other hand tangles in my hair, tugs just hard enough to hurt. "Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you your new room."

But movement at the main door stops everything.

A guard stumbles inside, blood streaming from his nose. He crashes to his knees, tries to speak. Only wet sounds emerge.

Then the lights cut out.

The hall plunges into absolute darkness. Someone screams. Glass shatters. Bodies collide in sudden chaos.

And in that darkness, something roars.