THE OMEGA'S REVENGE

No One to Save Me

The silence in her room wasn’t peaceful—it was heavy and thick like fog. Aria couldn’t move; her back burned, and her skin stuck to the blanket from dried blood. Breathing was a struggle, every inhale dragging fire through her lungs. Her throat felt raw, but no sound came out. She lay still, barely aware of time passing as the ceiling seemed to press down on her chest and her limbs refused to listen.

She waited for someone—anyone—maybe a healer, maybe an elder Omega, maybe her mother, but no one came. No knock, no footstep, no concern—just silence, cold and cruel. She couldn’t even cry; her eyes were swollen and her soul hollow. All she had left was silence and pain.

When morning arrived, it didn’t bring peace but more pain. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, and her nose picked up the bitter scent of her father. She tried to sit up, but her body refused. The door burst open without a knock, and her father’s eyes scanned the blood-stained bed without emotion. Her mother stood behind him, arms crossed, mouth a tight line.

“You’ve brought shame,” her father said coldly. “You tried to harm Luna. You embarrassed this family.”

Aria’s lips moved—I didn’t—but no sound escaped. Her mother didn’t flinch; she looked at her like she was already dead, a stain, a burden, a mistake. Her gaze flicked over the bruises and cuts, then turned away as if it was too disgusting to witness.

“You’re not our daughter anymore,” her mother whispered.

Those words tore through Aria’s chest harder than the whip. Her mate rejecting her was one thing, but this—her blood casting her aside—shattered whatever was left inside. Her breath caught; she couldn’t breathe, scream, or fight.

“We’re telling the Alpha we no longer claim you,” her father added. “You have no more protection here.”

Then they left—just like that. No pause, no second glance, no goodbye. The door clicked shut behind them. Aria didn’t move; she couldn’t. Her heart had stopped—not physically—but something deep inside had gone silent. It was over. She was alone now, truly and completely alone.

The numbness hit like a wave. She couldn’t feel the cuts or the burn. Everything inside was gone—hollow and empty. She moved on instinct, slowly like a ghost as she peeled the blanket from her back and swung her legs off the bed.

Her body gave out the first time she tried to stand; she collapsed, gasping and shaking, but pushed herself up again and again until her legs held her. It wasn’t strength or bravery—it was survival, or maybe just the last twitch of something not ready to die yet.

She didn’t pack anything; there was nothing worth taking—no family, no home, no food, no shoes, just her shame and the shell of a girl no one wanted. Her steps were slow and painful as she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. No one stopped her; no one noticed.

Outside, the yard was quiet. Most were still asleep, recovering from last night’s mating ceremony. She walked across the dirt slowly, bent over from pain, not looking back. What was there to see? A life that had rejected her, a pack that celebrated her suffering. She kept walking.

She passed the border without a word and didn’t stop. The trees swallowed her; the forest opened like a mouth ready to devour her whole, but she didn’t care. The further she walked, the harder it became to stay upright. Her vision blurred, limbs trembled, feet dragged, and her body screamed for rest and help—but there was none.

She tripped and fell hard. Her knees slammed into a root, and she collapsed into damp leaves. Her face hit the ground; she didn’t move. Cold seeped into her bones, hair stuck to her cheeks, breath came in tiny gasps. Her body was done.

She didn’t try to get up.

Lying there, face to the dirt, she accepted it—this was how it would end: not in battle, not in glory, but in silence, rejection, and pain, alone. A forgotten girl with no wolf, no bond, no family, just dirt and blood and cold forest air.

She curled inward slightly, as much as her broken body allowed. Her fingers twitched and her breath hitched, but there was no fight left. She couldn’t cry; her body had no tears left. The pain was too much, too deep, too final. She closed her eyes and waited.

The wind rustled through the trees as the forest whispered in a language she didn’t understand. The scent of earth and death filled her lungs. Wolves howled in the distance—none of them hers. The world continued, but not for her. She didn’t belong anymore.

A tear slid from her swollen eye, not because she wanted it but because her body still remembered how. It soaked into the soil, and the forest accepted it like everything else: no judgment, no mercy, just silence.

Her stomach cramped again; hunger was sharp now. She hadn’t eaten since… she couldn’t remember. Her ribs felt like they were caving in, her body shivered, her lips cracked, skin was pale. She was fading fast, like her soul slipping from her fingers.

Thoughts of Kael flickered through her fading mind—his face, his voice, the way he looked at her like she was nothing, the way he chose Lilith, allowed the beating, allowed the rejection, let her break over and over without lifting a finger.

Then her parents—their cold eyes, final words, mother’s turn away, father’s closing door without pause. She had loved them, served them, lived for them, and they had walked away like she never existed.

Her body twitched once, then again. Her heartbeat slowed, heavy and dull. Her breath thinned, and her limbs stopped responding. She couldn’t feel her toes anymore. The cold had sunk deep, wrapping around her like a grave.

She didn’t see the sky anymore—only darkness, the forest floor, and pain.

And then… nothing.