The Bullied Omega's Return

Chapter Seven

My lungs were on fire, legs pumping with the desperate energy of prey in its final moments. Branches whipped across my face, each stinging lash a reminder of how close death stalked behind me. The forest floor blurred beneath my feet as I tore through underbrush, dead leaves, and fallen pine needles, their scent sharp in my nostrils.

The eastern gate. My only shot. Jackson waited at the west with his trap, but if I could just make it east—

They materialized from the darkness like they'd been birthed from the shadows themselves. Wolves. Dozens of them. Their eyes caught the moonlight, reflecting back yellow and hungry. I skidded to a halt, momentum nearly sending me tumbling as I frantically searched for an opening, any gap in their ranks.

There wasn't one.

"Please," I gasped, the word scraping my raw throat. My hand went instinctively to my birthmark, which pulsed against my palm like a second heartbeat. "Just let me go. I won't come back."

A low rumble of what might have been laughter rippled through the wolf pack. The largest stepped forward, shifting with that fluid grace I'd always envied into human form. Marcus, one of Richard's enforcers and Victoria's younger brother, with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow and a perpetual sneer.

"Alpha's orders were clear," he said, nodding to someone behind me. "The marked omega attends her sister's celebration."

The net hit me from behind, weighted edges driving me to the ground with stunning force. I went down hard, the breath knocked from my lungs as the heavy mesh tangled around my limbs. My chin struck a rock, pain exploding across my jaw as the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.

"Got her," someone announced with unnecessary pride, like I'd put up the fight of the century instead of running blindly through the woods like the terrified teenager I was.

Marcus approached, nudging me with his bare foot. "Alpha Richard wants a word with you, freak. Something about your birthday present." The cruel smile that accompanied these words made my stomach clench with dread.

Rough hands hoisted the net, suspending me between four beta wolves who seemed grimly satisfied with their catch. The duffel bag—my one pathetic resource beyond the clothes on my back—was wrenched away by Marcus who peered inside with raised eyebrows.

"Well, well. Planning a vacation, were we?" He zipped it closed, slinging it over his shoulder with a proprietary air. "Alpha Richard will be interested to know where an omega got this kind of cash."

They carried me through the forest like a hunter's prize, my body swinging painfully with each stride. The birthmark burned against my cheek, intensifying with each minute that ticked closer to midnight. To my eighteenth birthday. To whatever cosmic joke the universe had planned for the cursed omega of Silver Fang pack.

The trees thinned, revealing Silver Fang's massive packhouse—a sprawling mansion of stone and glass, blazing with light from every window. Music drifted across immaculately landscaped grounds, the sound of celebration incongruous with my current predicament. Through massive windows, I caught glimpses of elegance and wealth—champagne flutes catching the light, women in evening gowns that probably cost more than I'd earn in a decade, men in tailored suits discussing territory boundaries and alliance terms over vintage whiskey.

My captors didn't pause or consider a discreet entrance. No, this was meant to be a spectacle. They marched straight for the grand entrance, the massive double doors thrown wide to welcome guests to the twin celebration of Sophia's engagement and our shared birthday.

The music faltered as we crossed the threshold, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as heads turned to stare. The string quartet in the corner stopped playing, their bows hovering uncertainly above strings. For a moment, the only sound was the soft swish of my netted body swinging between my captors and the collective intake of breath from Silver Fang's elite.

And there they stood, center stage in the tableau of my humiliation.

Sophia gleamed in a silver gown that caught the light like liquid mercury, diamonds dripping from her ears and throat, her dark hair swept up in an elaborate style that highlighted the perfect symmetry of her features. Our features—the same ones I saw in the mirror every day, yet somehow on her they looked regal rather than ordinary.

Beside her stood Damien, midnight black suit emphasizing the broad sweep of his shoulders, golden eyes unreadable as they fixed on my suspended form. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his face—no recognition of the girl he'd hidden in a cottage, no acknowledgment of the connection that had briefly flared between us. Just cool assessment, like I was a stranger he'd never seen before.

Behind them, my father Alfred shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the marble floor as I was carried past. His mate Victoria showed no such discomfort, her lips pursed in what might have been satisfaction as she took in my disheveled state.

"The prodigal omega returns," Alpha Richard's voice rang out as he strode through a side entrance. Blood darkened the sleeve of his tuxedo, and a fresh cut slashed across his cheekbone—evidence of Caleb's valiant but futile resistance. "Just in time for the midnight festivities."

At his signal, my captors released the net, dumping me unceremoniously onto the cold marble floor. I landed hard, unable to catch myself with limbs still tangled in heavy mesh. Pain shot through my hip and shoulder, but I refused to make a sound. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

The net was pulled away, leaving me sprawled in full view of Silver Fang's aristocracy. My clothes were filthy and torn, leaves and twigs tangled in my hair, blood from my split lip staining the front of my shirt. Next to Sophia's polished perfection, I looked feral—a reminder of what lurked beyond the veneer of werewolf civilization.

"For those who haven't had the pleasure," Alpha Richard continued, gesturing toward me like a ringmaster introducing a particularly disappointing sideshow act, "this is the other Reyes twin. The ugly one, the cursed one who condemned her own mother to death."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some knew me only as the girl who cleaned their rooms, others recognized the infamous birthmark that marred my face. All stared with the detached curiosity of observers at a car crash—fascinated but grateful to be at a safe distance from the wreckage.

The massive grandfather clock in the corner began to toll, each resonant chime vibrating through the marble floor and into my bones.

One.

Two.

Three.

My birthmark flared to life, pain searing across my cheek like someone had pressed a branding iron to my skin. I bit back a cry, one hand flying to my face as the mark pulsed with unnatural heat.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Across the room, Damien stiffened, his hand clutching suddenly at his chest as if seized by an invisible force. His golden eyes widened fractionally, the only crack in his perfect composure.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Our gazes locked across the crowded ballroom, and the world around us seemed to blur at the edges, sounds becoming distant as if we'd suddenly been submerged underwater. Something elemental passed between us—a recognition so profound it transcended the physical.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

The final toll seemed to hang suspended in the air, and with it came a knowledge that hit me with the force of a physical blow.

Mate.

Damien Blackwood was my mate. The Alpha heir, engaged to my twin sister, the boy who'd made my life hell before briefly offering salvation—was my fated other half.

Horror crashed over me in waves, not at the connection itself, but at the cruel cosmic joke of it all. To discover this now, here, surrounded by everyone who'd ever made me feel like nothing.

Damien's face had gone ashen, golden eyes wide with the same terrible realization. His hand remained pressed against his chest where the mate bond had flared to life between us, pulsing with a connection older than pack law, stronger than social boundaries.

"No." Sophia's voice shattered the silence, high and brittle with fury. She reached for Damien's arm, perfectly manicured nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit. "No, no, NO! This isn't happening!"

Her eyes, so identical to mine yet filled with a rage I'd never managed to summon, fixed on my crumpled form with naked hatred. "Tell me you don't feel anything for her. Tell me!"

When Damien didn't immediately respond, something feral twisted her beautiful features. "You can't possibly want her. Look at her!" She flung a hand toward me, fingers trembling with rage. "She's nothing—a f*****g ugly freak, dirt under our feet. An omega with delusions of adequacy!"

Each word landed like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs. Even now, even with the mate bond humming between us like a live wire, part of me believed her. Had always believed her. The unwanted twin. The marked mistake.

"She's probably faking it," Sophia continued, desperation creeping into her voice as she turned to the crowd for support. "It's a trick. She's always been jealous of me, always wanted what's mine!"

"Enough." Alpha Richard's voice sliced through her tirade, cold and final. "The bond appears genuine. But that changes nothing." He turned to Damien, whose eyes hadn't left mine. "Mate bonds can be rejected, as you well know. Choose, Damien. Now."

Sophia's face contorted with triumph as she stepped closer to Damien, one hand possessively sliding up his arm. "Reject her or the deal is off," she hissed, loud enough for the front rows to hear. "If you don't want to see her dragged away to a primitive pack in shithole Alaska, reject her now!" She spat the last word like it tasted foul on her tongue.

For one suspended moment, Damien's eyes held mine—something unreadable flickering in their golden depths. I allowed myself to hope, foolishly, pathetically. That this revelation might change things. That the connection between us might be strong enough to overcome years of hierarchy and expectation.

"I reject the bond," he said, each word precise and final."I reject you, Arianna Selena Reyes. I don't accept you as my mate."

The pain was immediate and catastrophic. Like someone had reached into my chest and ripped out something vital—not just my heart but something deeper, more fundamental to my existence. Something ripped open my ribcage and took a s**t in my chest cavity. I collapsed fully to the floor, a sound tearing from my throat that barely sounded human. A keening wail of loss so profound it couldn't be contained by my physical form.

Across the room, Damien fell to one knee, his face contorting with the same agony that was shredding me from the inside out. Rejected mate bonds were rare for a reason. Few wolves could bear the pain, and fewer still would choose it willingly.

"What deal?" I managed through the haze of agony, my voice a broken whisper. "What deal did you make?"

Silence fell, thick and uncomfortable. My father shifted, his gaze dropping to the floor as if he couldn't bear to look at me.

"Dad?" I pressed, needing to know even as my insides felt like they were being carved out with a dull blade. "What did you do?"

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then, so quietly I had to strain to hear: "It was necessary. Alpha Richard agreed not to send you to the Northern Alliance."

Relief flickered briefly before his next words extinguished it.

"In exchange for your friends. Maria and Liam."

The room spun around me, this new betrayal somehow worse than all the others combined. Maria, who'd crawled through ventilation ducts with me. Liam, who'd shared his food with me, whenever Victoria cut down my rations. The only people who'd ever seen me as something more than my rank or my mark.

"You sold my friends?" The words scraped my throat raw. "The only people who ever cared about me?"

"It was them or you," Victoria cut in, her tone suggesting I should be on my knees with gratitude. "We protected our blood."

"By sacrificing innocents?" I whispered, the physical pain of rejection momentarily eclipsed by this fresh horror.

Alpha Richard stepped forward, blood still visible on his knuckles where he'd fought Caleb. "Enough dramatics," he said, as if my entire world wasn't collapsing around me. "Arianna Reyes, you are hereby abjured from Silver Fang pack."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Abjuration was worse than exile—it was complete severance, a cutting of all ties both supernatural and mundane. Most omegas couldn't survive it, the pack bonds that sustained them severed with ruthless finality.

"You are no longer pack," Richard continued, his voice carrying to every corner of the suddenly silent ballroom. "You will leave pack territories by dawn. Any who offer you aid will share your fate."

I looked to Damien, some foolish part of me still expecting him to object, to stand up for me as he had in the council meeting. But his face was blank now, cold and distant, as if the connection we'd felt had never existed. As if the cottage, the scent marking, the warning—all of it had been some elaborate joke at my expense.

My birthmark, which had been burning with such strange intensity, faded to its usual dull purple. No magic. No supernatural revelation. Just another cosmic joke on the omega cursed with a mark no one understood.

Sophia's smile was all teeth as she helped Damien to his feet, making a show of supporting him through the pain he'd chosen to endure rather than accept me. The ultimate rejection, witnessed by everyone who mattered in our world.

"Get her out of here," Alpha Richard ordered, turning his back in the traditional gesture of abjuration. "She's staining the marble."

Marcus and some beta hauled me up by my arms, my legs useless beneath me as the pain of rejection crashed through my system in waves. Each one worse than the last. Physical agony, yes—mate rejection felt like dying in slow motion—but the emotional devastation was worse. To find your fated match and have them choose someone else, publicly, decisively... there was no coming back from that.

They dragged me across the ballroom, my feet trailing uselessly against the polished floor. The crowd parted before us, faces turning away one by one in the ritual of abjuration. Not a single person met my eyes. Not even my father, who stood rigid beside Victoria, his face a mask of forced indifference.

The last face I saw as they pulled me toward the exit was Damien's. For just a heartbeat, something flickered in his golden eyes—something that might have been regret, might have been pain, might have been nothing at all. Then Sophia's hand on his arm tightened possessively, and whatever I thought I'd seen vanished behind the mask of the perfect Alpha heir.

My captors didn't bother with dignity. At the massive front doors, they swung me between them like a sack of garbage, releasing their grip at the apex of the swing. I sailed through the air in a graceless arc, landing hard on the gravel drive beyond the steps. Skin tore on my palms and knees as I skidded to a stop, rocks embedding themselves in flesh already bruised from the forest capture.

"Happy birthday," Marcus called, his voice thick with mockery. "Enjoy life as a rogue. What's left of it, anyway."

The doors slammed shut with finality, cutting off the light and warmth and music in an instant. I lay on the gravel, body convulsing with twin agonies—the physical torment of a rejected mate bond and the supernatural severing of pack ties I'd never even realized sustained me until they were gone.

It felt like dying. But worse, because death would have been a release from this endless, bottomless pain.

Minutes or hours passed—time had no meaning in the void I'd been cast into. Eventually, the shaking subsided enough for me to push myself to hands and knees. Blood dripped from my split lip onto the pristine white gravel, each drop a tiny rebellion against the perfection of a world that had no place for marked omegas.

Standing took three attempts, my legs buckling with each new wave of rejection pain. When I finally managed it, I swayed like a sapling in high wind, clutching my midsection as if I could physically hold myself together.

The long, winding drive stretched before me, leading away from the only home I'd ever known into darkness so complete it seemed to swallow the moonlight. Behind me, the packhouse blazed with celebration that would continue uninterrupted by my absence. A minor disruption in an otherwise perfect evening.

One foot in front of the other. That's all I had to focus on now. One step. Then another. The gravel gave way to packed dirt as I reached the gates, standing open as if eager to be rid of me. Beyond them stretched a narrow road, lined with ancient trees whose branches formed a canopy so dense that even the full moon struggled to penetrate it.

I passed through the gates, feeling a final snap as the last supernatural tether connecting me to Silver Fang territory severed. The pain drove me to my knees once more, a cry tearing from my throat before I could suppress it. When it passed, I felt hollower than before, like something fundamental had been scooped out of me, leaving only an echo where my identity had been.

No longer pack. No longer mated. No longer even Arianna Reyes, omega of Silver Fang. Just... nothing.

I forced myself up again and continued down the dark road, each step taking me further from everything I'd ever known. The sounds of celebration faded behind me, replaced by the whisper of wind through leaves and the soft padding of my own feet on dirt.

A branch snapped in the darkness to my left.

I froze, senses straining against the gloom. Nothing. Just the usual forest sounds—until they weren't. The normal chorus of night insects fell silent, a hush descending that raised the hair on the back of my neck.

Another snap, closer this time. Then a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the air and into my bones.

Not quite a wolf. Something else. Something bigger, with a scent I couldn't identify—musty and primal and wrong.

I backed away slowly, every instinct screaming danger. Whatever lurked in the darkness beyond the road wasn't pack, wasn't wolf, wasn't anything I recognized. And in my current state—weakened by rejection, severed from pack bonds, injured from my capture and expulsion—I stood no chance against it.

The growl deepened, joined by another from the opposite side of the road. They were hunting me. Circling. Waiting for me to break and run so they could enjoy the chase before the kill.

I was going to die here, on my eighteenth birthday, rejected and alone on a dark road leading nowhere. After everything—the mate bond, the betrayal, the abjuration—this was how my story would end. Not with the dignity of sacrifice or the fire of rebellion, but as prey for creatures that hunted in darkness.

Something massive shifted in the shadows, yellow eyes reflecting what little moonlight penetrated the canopy. A hulking shape, larger than any wolf I'd ever seen, with a gait that spoke of ancient, patient hunger.

The cruel irony wasn't lost on me. All my life I'd feared being sold to the Northern Alliance or living as an outcast omega. I'd never once considered that simple survival might be the biggest challenge of all.

The creatures moved closer, no longer bothering to disguise their approach. Whatever they were, they knew I was alone. Knew I was weak. Knew I was already broken before they'd even begun to hunt.

As the first one stepped into a patch of moonlight, revealing matted fur and teeth too long for its misshapen jaw, I realized there were worse things than rejection. Worse things than abjuration.

But not by much.