CHAPTER 4: TORN FROM HOME
981 Words
CHAPTER 4: TORN FROM HOME
The words "I'll take her" still hung in the air like a death sentence.
Aira didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The elders’ hall was a tomb of silence, every eye locked onto her, onto him—the Lycan King who had just claimed her like she was nothing more than a trinket to be plucked from a shelf.
Xavier didn’t look at her.
Not really.
His golden gaze flickered over her once, dismissive, before turning to Alpha Jarek.
"Have her ready by dawn," he said, his voice a blade wrapped in velvet. "We leave at first light."
Jarek’s jaw clenched so tight Aira heard his teeth grind. But he didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Not with a king.
Instead, he turned his fury on her.
"Go," he snarled. "Pack your things."
Aira’s fingers dug into her thighs.
Go.
As if she were a dog.
As if she hadn’t spent years serving this pack, bleeding for it, breaking for it.
But she was an omega.
And omegas obeyed.
She rose slowly, her legs trembling beneath her. The other omegas stared—some with pity, some with envy. Lira’s gaze was the worst. Sharp. Hungry. Like she wanted to sink her teeth into Aira’s throat and taste her humiliation.
Aira lifted her chin.
She wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Xavier’s voice cut through the tension.
"Make it quick."
She turned to leave—
Then froze.
Because there, in the shadows behind the throne, stood the stranger from the forest. The one who had whispered "To watch you burn them all."
His lips curled into a smirk.
Aira’s blood ran cold.
Then—
A hand clamped around her arm.
Lira.
"Lucky discard," she hissed, her nails biting into Aira’s skin. "Maybe he’ll kill you slowly."
Aira wrenched free. "Or maybe I’ll kill you first."
Lira’s eyes flashed.
Before she could retaliate, a growl ripped through the hall.
Xavier.
Not at Aira.
At Lira.
The sound was pure dominance, a warning that rattled the bones of everyone present. Lira paled, stumbling back into Jarek’s arms.
Jarek’s expression darkened.
But Xavier wasn’t looking at them.
He was looking at Aira.
Cold.
Detached.
Like she was nothing.
"Go," he repeated.
And this time, she did.
---
Her den had never felt so small.
Aira stood in the center of the cramped space, her chest heaving, her vision blurred. The walls—once a refuge—now felt like a cage. The furs, the herbs, the few trinkets she’d collected over the years—none of it was hers anymore.
None of it had ever been hers.
Omegas didn’t own things.
They were owned.
She sank to her knees, her fingers brushing the loose floorboard where her father’s dagger lay hidden. The metal was cool against her skin, the weight of it familiar.
Never helpless.
She wouldn’t be.
Not even with him.
A rustle at the entrance made her stiffen.
Old Mother Nisha stepped inside, her gnarled hands clutching a small bundle.
"You’ll need this," she murmured, pressing it into Aira’s hands.
Moon-tears.
Again.
Aira’s throat tightened. "I’m not being rejected."
Nisha’s milky eyes held hers. "No. You’re being claimed."
The words settled like a stone in Aira’s gut.
She didn’t want this.
Didn’t want him.
But the bond—
That damned, traitorous bond—
It hummed in her chest, a low, insistent pulse that whispered "Mine" every time the king looked at her.
Nisha sighed. "He’s not what you think."
Aira’s head snapped up. "You know him?"
A flicker of something crossed the old woman’s face. Then—
"He’s not Jarek," she said simply.
As if that explained everything.
Maybe it did.
Aira tucked the vial into her pocket.
Then she packed.
---
Dawn came too soon.
The pack had gathered at the gates, their faces unreadable in the pale morning light. Omegas huddled together, their scents tinged with fear. Warriors stood stiff, their hands on their weapons.
And at the front—
Jarek.
Lira clung to his arm, her lips curved in a smirk.
Aira ignored her.
She ignored all of them.
Her gaze locked onto the Lycan King instead.
Xavier stood apart from the pack, his massive frame silhouetted against the rising sun. He wore his armor today—black leather and silver clasps, the crest of his kingdom etched into the breastplate. A sword hung at his hip, its hilt worn from use.
He looked every inch the conqueror.
And she was his spoils.
Aira’s fingers tightened around her meager bag of belongings.
Xavier didn’t acknowledge her.
Not until she stood directly before him.
Then—
"Kneel."
The command was quiet.
Final.
Aira’s jaw clenched.
She wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
Xavier’s eyes darkened.
"Kneel," he repeated, his voice a growl that vibrated through her bones.
Her legs gave out.
Not from submission.
From sheer, primal instinct.
The pack gasped.
Lira’s smirk vanished.
Jarek snarled.
Xavier ignored them all.
He simply reached down, gripped Aira’s chin, and forced her to meet his gaze.
"Good omega," he murmured.
The words were a slap.
A promise.
A threat.
Then he released her and turned away.
"Move out."
---
The forest swallowed them whole.
Aira walked a step behind Xavier, her back straight, her eyes forward. She wouldn’t look back. Wouldn’t give Jarek or Lira or any of them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
But inside—
Inside, she was screaming.
Xavier’s men flanked them, their expressions grim. None spoke to her. None even looked at her.
She was nothing.
Less than nothing.
And then—
"You’re slow."
Xavier’s voice was a whip-crack in the silence.
Aira stiffened.
He didn’t turn. Didn’t stop walking.
"Keep up," he ordered.
Her nails bit into her palms.
But she quickened her pace.
For now.
Because she had a plan.
A way out.
And the Lycan King?
He had no idea what was coming.
- Writer
