SCARRED OMEGA

Chapter 4.

Peach opened her eyes. The room was dark. Her clock said 4:03 AM. Red numbers glowing in the corner. A dull, heavy ache pulsed under her skin with every heartbeat. Her face felt tight, like someone had pulled her skin and stitched it back wrong.

She tried to move her mouth, to swallow, and the pain flared. A low sound escaped her throat, not quite a cry, not quite a moan. Her hand went to her face. Her fingers touched the bandages Isaac had put on. They were stiff now, crusty with dried blood.

"Oh," she breathed. Just one word, but it came out broken.

She sat up slowly. The room spun for a second, then settled. She pressed her palm against her forehead, against the bandages, and felt the heat radiating off her skin.

Her chest started to tighten. Her breath came faster.

"Please," she whispered, pulling her knees up to her chest.

She didn't know who she was saying it to. She rocked herself, slow and small on the bed. Her forehead touched her knees. Her hands cupped the sides of her face, careful, so careful, like holding something that would shatter.

The door was slightly ajar.

Harrison stood there in the hallway, his hand raised to knock. He had driven across town the second he saw the pictures. The second he saw her face, bloody and screaming on his phone screen.

He had to see her. Had to make sure she was okay.

But now he stood in the dark hallway, watching her through the sliver of light from the cracked door. Her shoulders were shaking. Her breath came in wet, uneven gasps.

He took a step forward. His hand touched the door.

Then he heard her say,

"Isaac," she whispered into the dark. His name came out small, desperate. "Isaac."

But he wasn't here. He had tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and left. And now she was alone, her face burning, her chest caving in, rocking herself like a child in a room that felt too big and too empty.

Harrison paused, he took a slow step back and crept away in shame.

He stood in the dark hallway for a long second, staring at nothing. Then he walked away, his footsteps fading down the stairs, leaving her alone with the name she kept calling.

The hours crawled. Peach didn't sleep. She sat against her headboard, knees pulled up, staring at the window as the darkness outside turned to grey. Her face throbbed. Her eyes burned.

She didn't know how long she sat there. Minutes. Hours. The clock blurred in and out of focus.

Then she heard footsteps in the hallway.

Her heart jumped.

The door opened. Isaac stood there in the dim morning light, a paper bag in one hand, his face soft with worry.

"You're awake," he said quietly.

Peach's eyes filled with tears. "Isaac."

She swung her legs off the bed, stood up too fast. The room tilted. Her legs wobbled. But she didn't care.

She crossed the room in three shaky steps and fell into him. Her arms wrapped around his waist. Her face pressed into his chest, careful, so careful not to hurt herself, but she didn't want to let go.

He dropped the bag on the floor and wrapped his arms around her. His hand came up to the back of her head, gentle, fingers threading through her tangled hair.

"I've got you," he murmured against her hair. "I've got you."

She was crying now, quiet tears soaking into his shirt. "You came back."

"Of course I came back." He held her tighter. "I told you I would."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her face blotchy, her eyes red. "I didn't know if you would. After everything. After how I treated you."

He cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears, avoiding the bandages. "Peach. Stop."

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing.

"Come on," he said softly. "Back to bed."

He guided her across the room, his arm around her waist. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, her legs weak. Isaac sat next to her, then pulled her into his lap, settling her against his chest.

He leaned back against the headboard, one arm wrapped around her, the other resting on her leg. She curled into him, her head tucked under his chin, her hands clutching his shirt like he might disappear.

"You should try to sleep," he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

"I can't," she whispered. "Every time I close my eyes, I see it. The eyes. The claws."

His arms tightened around her. "I'm here now. Nothing's going to hurt you."

She pressed closer, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her ear. Her breathing started to slow.

"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice barely a whisper. "For the games. For making you chase me. For pushing you away. I was scared, Isaac. I was so stupid."

"Shh." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I just want you to know. I like you. I've always liked you. I just didn't know how to say it."

His hand moved in slow circles on her back. "I know, Peach."

She tilted her head up to look at him. "Do you forgive me?"

He looked down at her, his face soft in the grey morning light. His thumb traced her jaw, light as a feather.

"There's nothing to forgive," he said.

She let out a shaky breath and settled back against his chest. The pain in her face was still there, deep and constant. But wrapped in his arms, with his heartbeat in her ear, it felt smaller. Manageable.

"Stay," she whispered. "Please stay."

His lips brushed her hair again. "I'm not going anywhere."

She closed her eyes. The room was quiet. His hand kept moving on her back, slow and steady. Her grip on his shirt loosened as her body finally gave in.

Isaac sat in the dark with her in his lap, her weight against his chest, her breath evening out into sleep.

He looked down at her face, at the bandages hiding what he had done.

His hand rested on her back, feeling the rise and fall of her ribs. She was so small like this. So trusting.

He perceived Harrison’s scent at the door but he wasn't fazed because he knew Peach had never wanted and never will, She's practically bound to him now because of the trauma she has suffered.

Isaac sat still, watching her sleep. Her face was slack now, the pain softened by exhaustion. Her fingers had gone limp against his chest.

He traced the edge of her bandage with one finger. Light. Careful. Like he was touching something precious.

That's when her body went rigid.

A low sound came from her throat. Not a whimper. A growl. Small and raw.

Her lip pulled back. Fangs slid dow, white, sharp, her Omega wolf finally surfacing after being crushed by his Alpha command the night before. Her eyes snapped open. They were yellow, bright and looked feral

She snarled at him.

Isaac didn't move. He just looked at her.

The wolf in her eyes recognized him. Not Peach, she was still asleep, still dreaming. But her wolf knew. It knew the scent on his skin. The blood. The fur. The power that had pinned her down and ripped her face open.

It lunged for his throat.

Isaac's eyes flashed red. Just for a second. A flicker of Alpha that hit her wolf like a wall.

Her fangs stopped an inch from his neck. Her whole body locked up. The growl died in her chest. The yellow in her eyes trembled, then dimmed.

She stared at him, frozen, her wolf cowering under his gaze.

Isaac tilted his head. His voice was low, calm. "I dare you"

Her fangs slid back up. Her body went slack. The yellow faded, replaced by her normal brown eyes, closed, peaceful. Sleeping again.

She settled back against his chest like nothing happened. Her breath evened out. Her hand curled back into his shirt.

Isaac stroked her hair, smoothing it down.

"Good girl," he whispered.

Her wolf knew who he was now. And it knew better than to try that again. He had established dominance.

A distant howl suddenly cut through the air.

Across campus, Harrison stood in the middle of the path, his pack fanning out around him. Wolves shifted in and out of human form, noses to the ground, eyes scanning every corner.

"Check the lot," Harrison said, his voice hard. "Every building. Every door."

His pack moved. They had been at it for an hour already.

One of them, a guy named Cole, disappeared behind the old maintenance shed. A moment later, he came back, something in his hand.

"Harrison."

Harrison turned. Cole held up a piece of torn fabric. Blue cotton. Ripped at the edge.

"Found this caught on a nail," Cole said. "Blood on it."

Harrison took it. His fingers closed around the fabric. He brought it to his nose.

His face went still.

He knew that scent.