The Omega's redemption (Claimed by the lycan Triples)

🌑 Chapter FourThe Wolves’ Den

🌑 Chapter Four

The Wolves’ Den

Aria’s breaths came shallow, ragged things. Her back was pressed so hard to the tree that bark cut into her skin, but it still wasn’t enough to hold her trembling body upright.

The three Lycans hadn’t moved closer in several heartbeats, but their eyes remained locked on her as if she were prey caught in their snare. The weight of their stares left her raw, exposed.

She had begged them not to come nearer. She had begged them to leave her be. Yet even as the words had left her lips, her wolf had clawed at her insides, furious at the lie.

Mate.

The bond’s pull made her bones ache.

Her chest rose and fell too quickly, and the silver-eyed one—steady, controlled—moved first. He stepped into the moonlight, and she finally saw him clearly. Broad shoulders. Tall, towering, the kind of strength that radiated without effort. His face was sharp, his jaw tense, and his eyes—those impossible silver eyes—burned with both fury and restraint.

He crouched low, hands open where she could see them, like one might approach a cornered animal.

“You’re bleeding.” His voice was calm, too calm for the storm rolling in his gaze. “Let me help you.”

“No!” The word burst from her lips before she could think. She hugged the blanket tighter around her, her nails biting into her own arms. “Don’t touch me.”

The golden-eyed one let out a growl, pacing the clearing like a predator chained. His eyes raked over her form, lingering on the torn skin of her feet, the bruises darkening her arms. His lips peeled back from his teeth.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was gravel and fire.

Aria swallowed hard. She couldn’t speak Damon’s name. Couldn’t bring herself to admit how deeply she had been broken. Instead, her silence answered for her.

The third one—darker than the rest, obsidian eyes gleaming—stayed at the edge of the shadows. He hadn’t taken his gaze off her since the moment he spoke. His stillness was worse than their movements; he was silent fury embodied. When he finally spoke, the words were soft but deadly.

“An Alpha,” he growled, not asking but knowing. “Your own pack.”

Aria flinched.

The silver-eyed one reached just a little closer, his hand hovering in the air, not touching her but offering. “You can’t walk like this. Your body’s already failing you. Let me tend to your wounds.”

Her throat tightened. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her legs gave out the moment she tried to move. She crumpled against the tree, clutching the blanket, a small broken sound escaping her throat.

Before she could collapse fully, the silver-eyed one was there, catching her with surprising gentleness. His arm slid beneath her knees, the other around her back, lifting her as if she weighed nothing.

Aria gasped, thrashing weakly in his grip. “Put me down! Let me go!”

“Stop fighting me before you hurt yourself worse.” His voice snapped, authority lacing each syllable. Yet his hold on her was careful, protective, his chest a solid wall of warmth against her trembling form.

Her fists pounded against him, but the blows were feeble, her strength already fading. She buried her face against his shoulder, tears hot against her skin. She hated the way her body betrayed her, hated the way it leaned into his warmth even as her heart screamed no.

The golden-eyed one stalked beside them, his fury burning hotter with every step. He looked ready to rip apart the world for every bruise marking her skin. “Crew,” he growled—the silver-eyed one’s name. “Let me carry her. You’re too calm about this. She’s ours. She should feel—”

“She should feel safe, Ryker.” Crew’s voice was a blade, sharp and final. “And right now, she doesn’t. Don’t make it worse.”

Ryker snarled, but didn’t argue. His golden eyes still flared with frustration, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

The one from the shadows—Zane—followed silently. His presence pressed against her like a cloak of darkness, heavy and inescapable. She couldn’t see his expression, but his silence screamed louder than Ryker’s rage.

Crew carried her through the trees, the forest bending to their passage. Aria fought to stay awake, her head fogging with exhaustion and blood loss. She hated herself for the small sense of safety that crept in—the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, the way his warmth wrapped around her like a shield.

She couldn’t afford to feel safe. Not again.

By the time they reached their den, she was barely conscious.

The Lycans’ home wasn’t what she expected. Not some ruined lair or cave, but a great lodge carved into the mountain, wood and stone bound together with strength and care. Torches burned along the walls, throwing shadows across the high ceiling.

Crew laid her gently on a massive bed covered in furs, the scent of wild earth and pine wrapping around her.

Aria forced herself upright, panic sparking again. “No! I can’t stay here. I—”

“You’re not leaving.” Zane’s voice cut through her like a blade. He stepped closer at last, his obsidian eyes glowing in the firelight. “Not until you’ve healed. Not until you understand what you are to us.”

Her lips trembled. “I don’t want this.”

Ryker knelt at the bedside, his golden gaze burning into her. “Your wolf does.” His hand hovered near her ankle, where blood still dripped from torn skin. He didn’t touch her, but the heat of his presence was enough. “She’s crying for us. Can’t you feel it?”

Aria’s chest tightened painfully. She could feel it—her wolf pacing, desperate, howling for them. But she shook her head, tears streaming. “I can’t… I can’t go through that again. Not after—”

“After he rejected you.” Crew’s voice was quiet, but his silver eyes gleamed with dangerous light. He pulled a cloth from the table nearby, dipping it into warm water. His hands were steady, practiced, as he began to clean the blood from her feet. “He broke you. But we are not him.”

Aria flinched at his touch, but he didn’t stop. His movements were slow, deliberate, almost reverent. He cleaned each cut, careful not to cause more pain, though she still hissed at the sting.

Ryker’s jaw ticked, his golden eyes following every wince. “I’ll kill him,” he muttered. “I’ll rip out his throat and feed it to the crows.”

“Ryker.” Crew’s voice snapped again. “Not now.”

Zane leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, his shadow stretching long in the firelight. “No,” he rumbled. “Let him swear it. Because I’ll help him do it.”

Aria’s stomach twisted. She hated Damon. She hated what he had done to her. But hearing these three—these Lycans—speak of vengeance on her behalf sent ice and fire racing through her veins.

“You don’t even know me,” she whispered, voice breaking.

Crew’s hands stilled as he wrapped her foot in clean bandages. His silver eyes lifted to hers, steady and unyielding. “We don’t need to. The bond already does.”

Her breath caught.

Ryker’s lips curved into a half-smile, sharp and wild. “You’ll learn soon enough, little mate. You can fight it, deny it, scream at us all you want. But nothing will change what you are to us.”

Zane pushed off the wall, stepping forward, his presence suffocating. He crouched low so his obsidian eyes met hers at level. His voice was a whisper, dark and final.

“Ours.”

The word wrapped around her throat like a chain, binding her tighter than any rope.

Her body trembled, her heart thundered, and her wolf howled so loudly inside her chest it felt like she might break apart.

But Aria forced her voice out, raw and defiant. “I will never be yours.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with promise.

Crew tied off the last bandage and rose to his full, towering height. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned like molten silver.

“We’ll see.”

The three of them loomed around her, shadows and heat and power, and for the first time, Aria realized the truth.

There would be no escaping them.