The Omega's Burden

(Aria's POV)

The wind wailed across the Black Fang Territory, cold and bitter, carrying the scent of pine, something rotting in the distance, and the heavy metallic taste of blood. I wrapped my thin dress tighter around me as I walked faster along the woodland path. My body trembled, not just from the cold, but from the weight of everything I carried: herbs in my basket, sorrows deep in my heart, and pain buried deep in my bones. The moon hung low overhead, a crescent form casting dim light, as if it were mocking me.

I'm Aria Lane, and I've never known peace. Not even for a moment.

At eighteen, I've learned that omegas like me exist in shadows. We're tools to be ordered about or ignored. Growing up as an orphan under this pack's strict rules means never resting, never speaking unless spoken to, and never hoping for anything at all. Being the lowest rank is a lesson in survival, nothing more.

But tonight felt different. A small part of me dared to hope.

The Blood Moon Festival was three days away. That night, the Moon Goddess would reveal fated mates to the chosen ones. Maybe she'd remember me too. Maybe destiny hadn't forgotten about me after all.

I continued my journey, my boots crunching on loose gravel as I made my way toward the pack stronghold. The massive stone fortress was cut into the mountain wall as if it had grown there naturally. The wind tugged at my long black hair, some of it catching on the tattoo at the nape of my neck. A crescent moon mark I've had since birth.

I didn't know what it meant, but sometimes, like tonight, it tingled as though it were trying to communicate with me. I could never hear or understand what it wanted to say.

I had no time to ponder it for long. The basket of herbs in my arms grew heavier with every step. I couldn't afford to be late again. Beta Roland didn't give second chances, and his whip didn't care about excuses.

I stepped past the border of the training grounds. The clang of metal, the tearing of claws through flesh, the growls of warriors mid-shift enveloped me. They were training under the moonlight as if preparing for war. I kept my eyes down, hoping no one would notice me.

At five-foot-four, I was dwarfed by the massive, powerful wolves surrounding me. I moved quietly around the edges when a voice sliced through the air behind me.

"Hey, it's the omega rat!"

My stomach dropped. That was Tessa's voice. She was a mid-rank wolf, gorgeous and ruthless. She sat on a bench with her group of friends, all laughing as though they hadn't just gutted me with those words. Her brown hair shone in the moonlight as she tossed a pebble my way.

"Still running around with your stupid herbs?" she jeered.

I gripped the basket tighter and stood still. "I'm just doing my job, Tessa," I whispered, keeping my voice calm and controlled as always.

Inside me, my wolf Nyra growled weakly. She didn't like how they treated me, but she could do nothing about it. Omega wolves weren't allowed to shift at will. My connection with her had always been fragile. Still, she was my only friend, the only one who stayed with me.

"Your job?" Tessa rose to her feet, stepping closer. Her friends followed, their eyes shining with the cruel delight only bullies enjoyed. "Your job is to stay out of our way."

She shoved my shoulder. I stumbled, and the basket tipped. The herbs spilled onto the ground, crushed and scattered.

I dropped to my knees immediately, trying to gather them together. My hands shook as I bit my lips to control the gathering sobs. I wouldn't cry. Not in front of her.

Nyra struggled again, wanting me to fight back. But she didn't understand. Fighting back wasn't bravery. It was suicide. Omegas endured. That's what we did.

I focused on the herbs. The smell of sage and lavender helped me breathe properly. Until Tessa's boot kicked the basket away again.

"Oops," she said, smiling like it was amusing. "Guess you'll have to start over."

Laughter erupted around me. Loud and wicked.

My old scars, from a burn I'd gotten years ago, tingled under my sleeves. I wanted to scream. I wanted to transform and rip the smile off her face. But I didn't move. I couldn't.

Because I am an omega. Endure. That's what I always do.

"Enough, Tessa."

A masculine voice cut through the laughter. It was quiet, but it didn't need to be loud. It sliced through everything like lightning.

Everyone froze.

I looked up, and my heart stopped.

Alpha Kael Blackthorne stood behind her.

Six-foot-three, dark, and lethal. Jet-black hair framed a perfect jawline marked by a visible scar on his neck, a testament to battles fought and won. His storm-gray eyes, flecked with gold, blazed in the darkness. He was power incarnate. Everyone, including Tessa, bowed their heads slightly.

He didn't look at her. He looked at me.

Just for a moment. One heartbeat. One look. But it felt like he saw everything I was trying to hide.

My stomach twisted. Nyra made a small sound in my head, like she couldn't decide whether to run away or crawl to him.

"She's late with the healer's supplies," Tessa said quickly, her voice syrupy false. "I was just reminding her of her place."

Kael didn't respond to her.

"Return to your post," he ordered.

Tessa hesitated, then nodded, backing away with her friends like scolded puppies.

He walked toward me slowly. His boots stopped inches from where I knelt. His shadow fell over me like a cloak. My heart beat too fast.

"Stand up," he commanded.

Not gentle. Not cruel. Just commanding.

I stood, clutching what remained of the basket. I didn't dare look up. His cedar and storm scent surrounded me, and I felt Nyra react more intensely than ever before.

Why him? Why now?

"You're late," he said.

"I apologize, Alpha Kael," I whispered. I dared a glance up. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes held something I couldn't read.

"Go," he said simply.

I bowed my head slightly. He didn't stop me. Didn't say anything else.

He turned and vanished into the night.

I remained there for a moment longer, my body humming with strange energy. Then I bent and gathered what herbs I could salvage and returned to the fortress.

Kael had never spoken to me before. Never acknowledged my existence. Why now?

Nyra tried to reach out, tried to send me something, but our bond was too weak. It was like listening through a thick wall.

Inside the stronghold, the air was thick with firewood smoke and wolf musk. Laughter echoed in the halls. Mugs clattered. The pack was in full celebration mode, preparing for the Blood Moon.

I kept my eyes down and went straight to the healer's room.

Elder Mara accepted the basket from me with a sigh. Her sharp eyes took in the damage.

"Half the herbs are crushed. What delayed you?"

"I was held up. It won't happen again," I answered quickly.

She studied me for a long moment, then sighed.

"You're a good girl, Aria. But you're too soft. This pack will devour you alive. It always devours the gentle ones. Be careful at the festival."

"I will," I whispered.

I left her room and climbed to my tiny attic space. It was barely a room: nothing but an old cot, a broken window, and a paper-thin blanket.

I tucked myself in, pulled the blanket close, and looked out the window. The moon stared back, cold and distant.

The festival was my last hope. If the Moon Goddess blessed me with a mate, everything would change. I could belong somewhere. I could be seen.

But doubt crept in. Who would want an omega? Who would want me?

I raised my hand and touched the tattoo at the nape of my neck. It ached gently, as though it knew something I didn't. As though it was waiting for something.

I was waiting too.

Soon, I told myself. Soon everything would be different.

But part of me already knew the truth. Fate was never kind to wolves like me.

As my eyes drifted closed, a howl rose outside. Long, mournful, and wild.

It sounded like a warning.

Or maybe a promise.