The Bullied Omega's Return

Chapter Nine

Consciousness returned in fragments—a kaleidoscope of sensations spinning into focus before shattering again. The steady beep of machines. The antiseptic smell of healing salves. Voices murmuring just beyond my comprehension. Pain, always the pain, a constant companion pulsing through my broken body.

I had died, I was certain of it. Three times, if the whispers at my bedside were to be believed. Each time dragged back by stubborn healers who refused to let me find peace in oblivion.

“Her eyes are moving again,” someone said—a young female voice I didn’t recognize. “Should I get Velma?”

“No, let her rest.” This voice I knew—Emily, the woman from the road. “She’s been through enough today.”

I forced my eyelids open, wincing as light stabbed into my vision. A blur of faces gradually sharpened into focus. Emily stood nearest, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun. Beside her was a girl who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, with copper skin and a shock of purple hair that defied gravity.

“Well, look who decided to rejoin the land of the living,” the girl said, flashing a smile that revealed slightly crooked teeth. “You’re getting pretty good at this whole resurrection thing.”

“Zoe,” Emily chided gently.

“What? Being all doom and gloom isn’t exactly helpful when someone’s been literally gutted,” Zoe replied with an unapologetic shrug.

Emily turned back to me, checking the various tubes connecting me to an impressive array of medical equipment. “How are you feeling?”

I tried to speak—forgetting for a moment that my voice was gone—and felt the scar tissue pull painfully across my throat. Instead, I lifted my hand in a small, wobbly gesture.

“Fair enough,” Emily nodded. “You’re stable, which is honestly miraculous.”

“Which is fancy-talk for ‘congrats on not being dead,’” Zoe added.

The door swung open, and a mountain of a man ducked into the room. The pack Alpha, I presumed—the owner of the deep voice from that night on the road.

“I heard our patient was awake,” he said, voice rumbling like distant thunder. His jade green eyes assessed me with surprising gentleness. “Welcome to Crescent Moon, Arianna Reyes.”

I blinked in surprise. How did they know my name?

“Our pack mystic divined your identity while you were unconscious,” Gabriel explained, reading my confusion. “Bit of an unorthodox introduction, I admit.”

“Beats the traditional ‘hi, nice to meet you’ snoozefest,” Zoe quipped.

“Zoe, why don’t you go tell Dr. Michaels that Arianna is awake?” Emily suggested in that adult tone that wasn’t really a suggestion.

The girl gave an exaggerated salute. “On it, boss lady.” She turned to me with a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll be back later. We omegas gotta stick together.”

After she bounced out, Emily sank into a chair beside my bed. “Sorry about Zoe. Humor is her coping mechanism.”

I lifted a hand, trying to convey that I didn’t mind. After a lifetime of walking on eggshells, there was something refreshing about her bluntness.

Gabriel leaned against the wall. “We have some questions, when you’re up to it. Nothing urgent—you’re safe here regardless—but the circumstances we found you in were… concerning.”

I made a writing motion with my hand.

“Smart thinking,” Gabriel nodded, producing a small whiteboard from a nearby drawer.

My fingers trembled as I accepted the marker, weakness making even this small task exhausting. I scrawled: Liam? Maria?

Gabriel’s expression darkened. “Friends of yours?”

I nodded, adding with shaky letters: Taken by N. Alliance. My fault.

The alpha and his mate exchanged a loaded glance.

“The Northern Alliance,” Emily said grimly. “We’ve had dealings with them before. Nothing good.”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “How long ago were they taken?”

I counted backward, realizing with horror how much time had passed. Don’t know days. Abjuration night. My writing became more frantic. Need to save them.

“You've been with us eight days. That is a long time in Alliance custody,” Gabriel said carefully.

I underlined my previous words, adding: Please. My FAULT.

Emily placed her hand over mine, stilling the marker. “We’ll look into it, Arianna. I promise. But right now, you need to focus on healing.”

The door burst open again, admitting a stern-faced woman with steel-gray hair cut in a severe bob.

“So our mystery patient is finally with us,” she said, voice clipped and professional. “I’m Dr. Michaels. I’ve been putting your insides back together for the past week.”

Gabriel straightened. “I’ll leave you to your examination. Emily, a word?”

As they exited, I caught fragments of their whispered conversation—“Northern Alliance,” “extraction team,” “probably too late”—before the door closed behind them.

Dr. Michaels checked my vital signs with brisk efficiency. “Your physical recovery is proceeding better than expected, given the severity of your injuries. The throat laceration was particularly nasty—sliced clean through your vocal cords.” She shook her head. “It’s a wonder you survived at all.”

I wrote on the whiteboard: Why did you save me?

Dr. Michaels raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we do here. Crescent Moon is a sanctuary pack—a haven for those rejected by others, particularly omegas.” Her expression softened marginally. “Many of us know what it’s like to be cast aside.”

The door opened again, this time admitting a woman whose presence immediately filled the room. A distinctive birthmark covered her face like a domino mask, stark against her olive skin.

“Velma,” Dr. Michaels acknowledged with a respectful nod.

“I sensed her consciousness returning,” Velma said, voice melodic yet somehow ancient. “The Moon Mother is not ready to claim this one yet.”

She approached my bed, and I fought the urge to shrink away. Something about her gaze—as if she could see through flesh and bone to the battered soul beneath—was deeply unsettling.

“You’ve died three times, Arianna Reyes,” she said matter-of-factly. “Each time, I’ve felt the Moon Mother push your spirit back into your body. She has a purpose for you yet.”

I scribbled on the whiteboard: Why?

Velma smiled enigmatically. “That’s between you and the goddess. But I suspect it has something to do with that.” She pointed to my birthmark.

Dr. Michaels cleared her throat. “I’ve finished my examination. Her vitals are stable, but she needs rest.”

After she left, Velma settled into the chair Emily had vacated. “You have questions. Many of them.”

I hesitated, then wrote: What is this place?

“Sanctuary,” she replied simply. “For the unwanted, the marked, the broken. We’re a pack of misfits who found strength in our differences rather than shame.” She gestured to her own masked face. “Those who bear the goddess’s mark are rare, but not as rare as Silver Fang would have you believe.”

I wrote quickly: There are others like me?

“Like you? No. Each mark is unique, as is each bearer’s purpose. But marked wolves? Yes. You’ll meet Riley soon—his birthmark climbs half his body like ivy. And then there’s little Elijah, our newest arrival.”

My eyebrows rose in question.

“A newborn. The parents rejected him the moment they saw his marked face.” Real anger flashed in Velma’s eyes. “I was there, helping with the birth. I couldn’t leave him to such narrow minds.”

A nurse poked her head In. “Velma, the baby is fussing again.”

“Coming,” she said, rising gracefully. “We’ll talk more when you’re stronger, Arianna. Rest now. You’re among friends—perhaps for the first time in your life.”

After she left, exhaustion crashed over me like a wave. As I drifted toward sleep, the door creaked open once more. Through half-lidded eyes, I saw Zoe slip back into the room, accompanied by two others—a tall, lanky boy with glasses and a petite blonde girl.

“See? Told you she was awake earlier,” Zoe whispered. “This is Lucas and Cassia.”

“She’s sleeping, Zo,” the boy—Lucas—hissed. “We shouldn’t disturb her.”

“We’re just looking,” the blonde—Cassia—argued. “Besides, she’s been alone her whole life. She shouldn’t wake up alone here."

Their bickering faded as darkness claimed me once more, but this time, there was something different about the descent into unconsciousness. Instead of the terrifying void that had swallowed me before, this felt more like sinking into warm water—still dark, but somehow comforting.

For the first time since Damien had rejected me, I slept without nightmares.

***

Days blurred together in a haze of healing and sleeping. I became accustomed to the rhythm of the pack medical facility—shift changes, meal deliveries, Velma’s healing sessions that left me drained but stronger.

Zoe appointed herself my unofficial guardian, showing up at odd hours with contraband snacks and outrageous stories about pack members.

“Alpha Gabriel was an outcast himself,” she explained one afternoon, perched cross-legged at the foot of my bed. “Got kicked out of his birth pack for challenging their treatment of omegas and demanding reform. Built this place from nothing twenty-five years ago.”

I wrote on my whiteboard: Why help omegas specifically?

“His younger sister was an omega,” Zoe said, her usual flippancy dimming. “She didn’t survive her birth pack’s ‘training methods.’ That’s why we have twenty-five dedicated warriors—not just for protection, but for rescues.”

Like me? I wrote.

“Nah, you were an accident. They were patrolling the border and just happened to find you.” She popped a smuggled chocolate into her mouth. “Usually, rescues are planned operations. Intelligence gathering, extraction teams, the whole shebang.”

My heart quickened. Liam and Maria?

Zoe’s expression turned somber. “I heard Gabriel talking about it. Northern Alliance territory is tough to infiltrate. They’re still working on it, but…” She trailed off, then forced a smile. “Hey, Emily brought you some actual clothes instead of that tragic hospital gown. Wanna change?”

The door opened, admitting a young man so striking that I momentarily forgot to breathe. Tall and lean, with warm brown skin and features that belonged on a magazine cover—except for the birthmark that spread across the right side of his body like a living vine, creeping up his neck and jaw.

“Riley!” Zoe exclaimed. “Perfect timing. Arianna was just getting bored with my awesomeness.”

He rolled his eyes. “More likely she’s plotting your murder. I can see it in her eyes.”

I felt my lips twitch upward. There was something refreshing about their banter—the kind of casual interaction I’d observed from afar but never experienced myself.

“I brought you something,” Riley said, approaching with a small wooden box. “Velma said you might be ready for this.”

Inside was a simple pendant—a crescent moon carved from pale wood, hanging from a leather cord.

“It’s blessed ash wood,” Riley explained. “Sacred to our pack. Every member wears one—helps us sense each other if we’re in danger.”

I stared at him in disbelief. Member? I wrote. I’m not pack.

“Technically, no,” Zoe admitted. “Not until you decide to stay and go through the acceptance ceremony. But Velma insisted you have this now.”

Riley held up the pendant. “May I?”

After a moment’s hesitation, I nodded. His fingers were warm as they brushed my neck, securing the cord. The moment the wooden crescent touched my skin, I gasped. A sensation like cool water flowed through me, soothing inflamed bonds that had been raw since my abjuration.

“Yeah, hits like that the first time,” Zoe nodded. “It’s not a true pack bond—more like a… placeholder. But it helps with the emptiness.”

Riley studied me with knowing eyes. “The physical wounds aren’t the worst part of abjuration. It’s the severed bonds—like having limbs amputated that no one else can see.”

I swallowed hard, fighting sudden tears. He understood. They both did.

“We’ve all been there, in some form,” Zoe said, suddenly serious. “Riley’s pack tried to burn his mark off when he was twelve.”

“And Zoe’s alpha father sold her to an elder from another pack when she presented as omega,” Riley added, voice tight. “She was thirteen.”

Zoe shrugged with forced nonchalance. “I ran away before the claiming ceremony. Lived in the woods for months before Gabriel’s warriors found me.”

“Which explains so much about her personality,” Riley teased, dodging the pillow Zoe threw at his head.

I wrote carefully: Why are you telling me this?

“Because you need to know you’re not alone,” Riley said simply. “Whatever happened to you—whatever drove your pack to abjure you—isn’t your fault.”

But it was my fault. My father had begged Alpha Richard to abjure me instead of sending me somewhere in Alaska with unknown wolves. He thought I would be safer. He was wrong. And Liam and Maria were suffering because I’d let them sacrifice themselves for me.

I picked up the marker again: Need to help my friends. Alliance took them instead of me.

Before Riley could respond, the door opened. Gabriel and Emily entered, their expressions grave.

“We sent scouts to gather intelligence on your friends,” Gabriel began without preamble. “They’ve just returned.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. The grim set of their mouths told me everything before they spoke another word.

“I’m sorry, Arianna,” Emily said gently. “The Northern Alliance has no record of receiving two omegas from Silver Fang on the night of your abjuration.”

I blinked in confusion. Must be mistake, I wrote frantically. Alpha Richard signed contract.

Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “Our scouts are thorough. They bribed a record-keeper within the Alliance. The contract with Silver Fang was for a single omega.” He met my eyes steadily. “You. Only you.”

Ice spread through my veins as the implications sank in. If Liam and Maria hadn’t been sent to the Northern Alliance…

Where are they? I wrote, the marker shaking so badly the letters were barely legible.

Gabriel leaned forward. “Arianna, what do you know about omega trafficking?”

The question hit me like a physical blow. Everyone knew about trafficking—the shadowy, illegal trade in unmated omegas. Omegas who vanished into that world were rarely seen again, sold to the highest bidders for purposes too horrific to contemplate.

No, I scrawled. Alpha Richard wouldn’t.

But even as I wrote the denial, doubt crept in. Richard, who’d always resented my father Alfred for being the previous Alpha. Richard, who’d challenged my father and forced him to step down. Richard, who’d been all too eager to send the previous Alpha’s marked daughter away to the Alliance.

Would he sell two loyal pack omegas to traffickers? If the price was right… if it solved multiple problems at once…

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said, and I believed he truly was. “We’re still looking into it. There are contacts we can reach out to, places we can search. But I wanted you to know the truth about the Alliance contract.”

My fault, I wrote, tears blurring my vision. They took my place.

“No,” Emily said firmly, taking the whiteboard from my trembling hands. “Listen to me, Arianna. This is not your fault. Alpha Richard—he’s the one responsible. He created this situation, not you.”

But her words couldn’t penetrate the wall of guilt crushing me. Liam and Maria had protected me my entire life. They’d stepped forward to take my place, believing they were saving me from the Alliance—a harsh fate, but one with rules, with some minimal protections for omegas.

Instead, I’d condemned them to something far worse.

A sound emerged from my damaged throat—a keening wail of grief and guilt that surprised even me. Luna Emily gathered me into her arms as I broke, tears soaking her shirt.

“We’ll keep looking,” Gabriel promised. “If your friends are out there, we’ll find them.”

But we all knew what remained unspoken. If Liam and Maria had indeed been sold to traffickers, the chances of finding them alive—or at all—were vanishingly small.

I cried until exhaustion claimed me, drifting into uneasy sleep still clutched in Emily’s maternal embrace. The pendant at my throat pulsed with foreign energy—a lifeline to wolves I barely knew, when those I’d loved were beyond my reach.

My last conscious thought was a promise: I would heal. I would grow stronger. And somehow, I would make Richard pay for what he’d done.

Even if it killed me.