The Forgotten Omega

Chapter 8: A Pack Without a Heart

Chapter 8: A Pack Without a Heart

Ava – POV…

I pulled away from Kyran’s bedside the moment I heard the voice behind me. I didn’t need to turn to know who it belonged to. That smugness could coat an entire room.

When I looked, there she was—Clara—standing in the doorway with her arms crossed like she owned the air I breathed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her tone sharp but layered with fake curiosity.

I stood up fully, not flinching. “Checking his condition.”

She walked into the room with slow, deliberate steps and circled me like a vulture. “Resting your head on his chest is what you call checking now?” she said with a dry laugh.

I didn’t back away. I didn’t blink. “I needed to listen to his heartbeat. Make sure it wasn’t irregular. And to be sure he's ok.”

Clara raised a brow and tilted her head, mock interest plastered on her face. “Cute. But you’re a rogue. Let’s not pretend you belong here. People like you should be locked up or left outside the walls where you crawled from.”

The words stung more than I wanted to admit, but I didn’t let her see it. I kept my voice even. “Luna,” I said carefully, “even if I was a rogue, you still needed me to heal him. Or was that desperation just for show?”

For a moment, just a flicker, I saw it—the crack in her perfect mask. Her jaw twitched, and her eyes flared yellow.

Before I could react, her hand shot out and gripped my neck, nails digging into my skin as she pushed me back against the wall. “You have no right to speak to a Luna that way.”

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t struggle. I met her glowing gaze and said, “A Luna who doesn’t know the first thing about welcoming a guest isn’t much of one.”

The door burst open before she could react. The beta stepped in, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. “What the hell is going on?”

Clara dropped her hand slowly, still glaring at me like she wanted to rip my throat out.

“She’s disrespectful,” she snapped.

“She’s a healer,” he countered, stepping between us. “One we begged to come. Have you forgotten how many days he was slipping before she showed up? If she walks out, we’re back where we started. Worse.”

Clara laughed, brushing invisible dust from her sleeves. “Then let her leave. I’ll find another healer. One who knows her place. I don’t trust this one. Especially a Rogue.”

She turned to me with a tight smile. “And I certainly don’t trust someone who hides behind herbs and thinks that makes her valuable.”

Before I could answer, a sudden sound cut through the room.

Kyran coughed.

Hard.

I spun toward him instinctively, already halfway to his side, but Clara shoved past me and reached him first. She sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder like she’d been there the whole time.

“Are you alright, my love?” she asked sweetly.

I stood, frozen, watching as his eyes fluttered open.

He blinked once. Twice. Then slowly sat up, a groan slipping past his lips.

He looked confused—disoriented. His gaze drifted around the room like he couldn’t quite place where he was. Then it landed on me.

Almost.

Just as his eyes were about to meet mine, I turned. I faced the wall. My back to him. I didn’t want the first thing he saw to be my face. Not when it would only remind him of what he never recognized.

“Who is she?” he asked, voice hoarse but steady.

I opened my mouth, breath caught halfway between pain and hope.

“She’s no one,” Clara cut in quickly, her voice a perfect blend of concern and disdain. “Just a rogue healer. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be gone soon. Back to the wild where she belongs.”

My hands clenched at my sides. Fingernails digging into skin. I wanted to say something. Scream, even. But instead, I took a breath and said calmly, “I was just leaving. It looks like the medicine is doing its job. Tomorrow I’ll check on him again. That’s all.”

I didn’t wait for his response.

Didn’t wait for another jab from Clara.

I walked out.

As I closed the door behind me, the weight of it all slammed into my chest. I leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly until I hit the floor. No sound came out, but the tears did.

After all these years... he still saw her as his mate. He still thought she was the one.

He still couldn’t tell the difference.

I pressed my palms to my face and let the silence hold me. Not the kind that comforts, but the kind that mocks.

Then I laughed. Just once. Bitter and sharp.

I wiped my cheeks, stood up, and straightened my cloak.

No. I wasn’t that girl anymore. The one who cried because her heart was broken. I was someone else now. Someone stronger. Someone who had clawed her way back from nothing.

He didn’t have to see it.

I did.

And that was enough.

I turned the corner with steady steps, ready to get back to the small room I’d been stuffed in. But just as I rounded the hallway, I collided hard with someone coming from the opposite direction.

The woman stumbled back and hit the wall with a surprised gasp.

“I’m so—” I started, then froze.

So did she.

Our eyes locked.

Her lips parted.

“Ava?” she whispered, voice trembling with disbelief.

I stared at her like I was seeing a ghost.

Because in a way… I was.

My stepmother.

The woman who raised me like I was an inconvenience. The woman who looked the other way when they cast me out. The woman who let them forget me.

And now she stood in front of me with the same eyes—except this time, they were wide with shock.

She reached for me.

“Ava…”