OMEGA

CHAPTER FIVE

THE QUIET AFTER THE STORM

AMARA'S POV|

I didn’t hear him knock.

But I felt him leave.

Lucien.

I’d caught the faint shuffle of boots outside my door, followed by silence… and then retreating footsteps.

Coward.

I lay still, curled into myself, the blanket pulled up over my head like it could shield me from everything that had just happened—from the blood, the screams, the betrayal.

From him.

My chest ached, not just from the rejection, not just from the pain of a broken mate bond—but from something deeper, something raw and ancient that had begun to stir the night the rogue attack happened.

Something wild inside me had opened its eyes.

And it hadn’t closed them since.

My pillow was soaked from crying. The walls of my cabin felt too tight. Too hollow. I wasn’t sure if the ringing in my ears was from the blast of memory or the silence that followed.

They were gone.

People I grew up with.

Torn apart by rogue wolves—our enemies, our shadows—who attacked like ghosts in the night.

And he—Lucien—he didn't even try to comfort me.

He just stood outside and left me in pieces.

My wolf stirred inside me, restless, angry, betrayed. Not just by the pack, or the world, or the Moon Goddess… but by him.

The one who should’ve protected me.

I sat up slowly, wrapping my arms around my knees. My bones ached like they were trying to stretch into something else. I could feel a low hum under my skin, like a vibration just below the surface.

The letter from the forest flashed in my mind.

The stranger’s voice still echoed in my memory:

> “Your blood is not ordinary, Amara. You are the White Wolf, and when the time comes, the world will remember your name.”

I hadn’t told anyone about the letter. Not even my grandmother. Not after what it said.

Only once every hundred years. A wolf with white fur, blue eyes, and a fate written long before she was born.

That was me.

I didn’t want it.

Didn’t ask for it.

But fate doesn’t wait for permission.

And now something inside me was changing.

It had started when the rogues attacked. When I fought back, my vision had sharpened—too much. My hearing, my speed, my strength—it had felt... unnatural.

No, otherworldly.

Like something ancient had slipped under my skin and whispered, Finally, you're awake.

I hadn’t shifted yet. But I knew when I did… I wouldn’t look like the others.

I would be white.

Pure white.

And marked.

The color of prophecy. The color of bloodlines that were hunted and forgotten.

I pressed a hand to my chest and tried to steady my breathing. My heartbeat felt louder these days. Fiercer.

Lucien’s rejection still burned, but a deeper fire was beginning to smother it.

I would not fall apart.

Not anymore.

A knock startled me this time—sharp and impatient. It wasn’t my grandmother.

“Amara, it’s me,” came a voice I recognized instantly.

Stacy.

Of course.

I didn’t answer. Not in the mood to deal with her venom.

“I know you’re in there,” she said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I just came to check on you after the attack. You looked… fragile.”

Bitch.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just glared at the door like my hatred could burn through it.

“You should be grateful, you know,” Stacy went on. “Lucien only did what any sane Alpha-to-be would do. You’re damaged goods now. No one wants a cursed mate.”

Cursed.

The word sank in, sharp as a dagger.

But it didn’t make me cry.

It made me angry.

I stood slowly, each movement deliberate, and walked to the door without opening it.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t scream. I simply let a low growl escape from the back of my throat—something primal, something barely human.

It went quiet outside.

Then her footsteps shuffled away.

Good.

Let her run.

Because I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t broken. Not anymore.

The girl who cried herself to sleep last night died somewhere between the rogue attack and Lucien’s cold silence.

What remained… was something else.

Something fierce.

Something ancient.

Something that wasn’t afraid anymore.

I looked at my reflection in the cracked mirror by the wall. My eyes—blue like ice—stared back, unblinking.

And for the first time in two years, I wasn’t ashamed of who I was.

I was the White Wolf.

And soon… they’d all remember why that name was once feared.