Rejected Omega's Revenge

The scent hit me first—rogue wolves, their stench of decay and madness thick in the autumn air near the pack border. My heart lurched when I heard the terrified whimper. Tyler Grant. The alpha's nephew, barely six years old, frozen in the clearing as three rogues circled him like sharks around bleeding prey.

I didn't think. Couldn't think. My legs moved before my brain caught up, launching me between the snarling wolves and the trembling child. Without my wolf, I was nothing—just flesh and bone and desperation. The first rogue's claws raked across my shoulder, tearing through skin like paper. Pain exploded white-hot through my nerves, but I wrapped my arms around Tyler and held on.

"Run," I gasped against his hair. "When I tell you, run to the packhouse and don't look back."

The second rogue lunged. I twisted, taking the bite meant for Tyler's throat on my forearm instead. The agony nearly blacked me out, but I'd survived worse. Dane's death had taught me that some wounds never heal—these would just be scars on top of scars.

I don't know how I drove them off. Maybe they smelled my wolfless state and decided I wasn't worth the effort. Maybe Tyler's screams alerted the border patrol. Maybe the Moon Goddess—who'd ignored my prayers for three years—finally remembered I existed. When the rogues melted back into the forest, I collapsed into the dirt, my blood painting the fallen leaves crimson.

Tyler's small hands pressed against my face. "Miss River, please don't die. Please don't die like—"

Like Dane. He didn't say it, but the words hung there anyway. The pack loved reminding me how my true mate had died protecting others while I became the broken omega who couldn't even shift.

Darkness pulled me under before I could answer.

---

I woke to sterile white walls and the sharp bite of antiseptic. The pack infirmary. My body felt like someone had put it through a shredder, every nerve ending screaming. Bandages wrapped my shoulder and forearm, already seeping red at the edges. Through the haze of pain medication, I heard voices—Healer Morrison's clinical tones updating someone on my condition.

"Lucky to be alive. If those rogues had been serious about the kill—" His voice faded as footsteps retreated down the hall.

Lucky. Right. Lucky broken omega River, who'd survived another day in a pack that saw her as entertainment. I closed my eyes against the sting of tears, my fingers instinctively reaching for the spot where Dane's pendant should rest against my heart. Emmett had given it back after I'd begged—one of the few times he'd shown me anything resembling kindness. Or what I'd thought was kindness. Now I wondered if even that had been part of Nayeli's game.

The pain medication dragged me back toward sleep, but something felt different. Wrong. A pressure building behind my sternum, like a door I'd thought permanently sealed was beginning to crack open. Heat pulsed through my veins in waves, each one stronger