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بيت / LGBTQ+ / The Small Whisperer: They wanted the Alpha's Omega dead / Cora

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Cora

مؤلف: RaeLyn
last update تاريخ النشر: 2026-07-16 19:40:55

POV: JACKSON

At the age of fifteen, my father told me stories about witches. He viewed them as manipulators of reality, and his disdain for them was evident; he wanted them kept at a distance from our pack territory. They never lived among us, yet he wished for them to be as far away as possible.

From what my father told me, the Witches of Maletros were a small coven, led by a kind and gentle elderly woman. She didn't like using her powers for conflict or malice. Nevertheless, my father still
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  • The Small Whisperer: They wanted the Alpha's Omega dead    Your own box of tissues

    BLAKEAs soon as school was over, I was dragged out of class into a classroom. The room was filled with broken chairs and tables; the windows were shattered, and it was dusty. I was familiar with this classroom because it was where I was always brought to be beaten. The smell of old dust and mildew clung to the air, a smell I had come to associate with dread long before any fist ever touched me.I didn't know who kicked me from behind, but my knees hit the floor, sending pain through me. I knew my knees would be bruised. Tyson stood in front of me and grabbed my hair. "You know, anytime I see you, I just want to beat you until you die, mute freak," he said before slapping me twice. "But that's not possible, so I'll beat you until you can't ever forget the pain."Tyson punched my stomach, causing me to tumble while clutching my aching abdomen. "Hold him," Tyson commanded Mike and Zach, who held my arms tightly. Tyson grabbed my chin, raising my face up. "I don't know why the Alpha stil

  • The Small Whisperer: They wanted the Alpha's Omega dead    Waiting for the right moment

    TOM I walked into the living room with my shoulders dropped. "He refused, huh?" I heard pops(Saint) ask as he wiped the table. I could only nod. Blake had always been refusing me, but I still hadn't gotten used to the disappointment. It sat heavy in my chest every single time, a small ache I had learned to carry quietly. Pops sighed. "Maybe on Monday he'll agree?" I gave my pops a 'yeah right' look, prompting him to shrug. "You have to be hopeful." "I just want to be there for him. He was clearly not fine with the way he looked this morning," I said. I knew all too well what Blake went through every night. I'd always been around Blake. I remembered the way Blake's eyes had looked just now, red-rimmed and hollow, the kind of tired that no amount of sleep could fix, and it had taken everything in me not to reach out and pull Blake into a hug I knew wouldn't be welcomed. "We just need to be patient and give him his space when he asks for it," pops said. "At least he acknowledges us.

  • The Small Whisperer: They wanted the Alpha's Omega dead    Don't follow me

    BLAKE I stared at a smiley Tom, a small frown gracing my forehead. Tom is a lot taller and muscular than I was. He was an Alpha and a warrior after all. His mismatched hair of blonde and black was neatly tied in a low bun with few strands falling on his face. When Tom was in this hairstyle, he looked a lot like his father, Alpha Jackson. "It was raining all night, huh?" I heard him say, probably to break the silence. He still had a smile on his face. I only came out of the room and locked the door before walking away, totally ignoring him but followed behind me. "It was cold all night, did you cover yourself properly?" He asked. I still ignored him, my gaze fixed straight ahead, refusing to give him even the smallest opening. We got to the dining room and met Saint packaging a lunch pack. Probably mine since I don't eat with them. "Good morning, Blake." Saint said to me. I looked at him before bowing my head a little. Over the years, that was my way of greeting Saint and also Alpha

  • The Small Whisperer: They wanted the Alpha's Omega dead    Good morning B!

    BLAKE The cold wind blew around 2am in New Moon Pack, the noise announced that it would soon rain. It was the season of rain so it was only natural. The trees outside groaned under the weight of the gusts, their branches scraping against windows like fingers begging to be let in, and somewhere far off a howl rose and faded, swallowed whole by the coming rain. I tossed and turned on my bed, sweat dripped down my skin like it had rained on me already. My eyes were closed shut, my body stiff as the noisy wind drowned out the distressed noise I was making. I gripped the bedsheet as the line between reality and the nightmare I was having gradually became thin. The blanket twisted around my legs like it too was trying to hold me down, trap me inside the memory that never let me go. "B-Blake? B-Blake? Where are you?" I heard my mother's scared and pained voice. I frantically searched everywhere but I could only see darkness. I couldn't see anything. My eyes became blurry as tears filled th

  • The Small Whisperer: They wanted the Alpha's Omega dead    The Mute Whisperer

    Some whispers fade, others leave scars that never heal.The war is over. Sam and Samantha are dead.The New Moon Pack has finally found peace. The blood has dried, the graves have been buried, and life has begun again. Warriors laugh when returning from weekly hunting. Children race through the pack grounds. Mates find each other. The future looks brighter than it has in years.Everyone moved on.Everyone...Except Blake.Every night, he wakes with a gasp, his lungs burning as though he's reliving his mother's final breath. Sleep offers no comfort, only memories. He hears the screams. Sees the blood. Feels the crushing weight of the choices he never truly made.Some tell him he was manipulated, that none of it was his fault.The bullies tormenting him and the sharp looks from older pack members remind him otherwise.So Blake does what he has always done best, he runs.Not with his feet...But with his silence.He avoids the training grounds, skips celebrations. He's broken, and no amo

  • The Small Whisperer: They wanted the Alpha's Omega dead    The end of his

    POV: SAINT "He's going to be alright, and this isn't your fault." Jackson's voice was steady, though I could feel the strain beneath it, the same worry I carried mirrored quietly in the tension of his arms around me. "It's been two months, Jackson, and he still won't talk to the therapist." I swallowed hard, the words scraping against a throat already tight with exhaustion. "Let him take his time. We shouldn't rush him. He's witnessed so much at such a young age; it's important for him to process everything at his own pace," Jackson said while hugging me, his hand moving in slow, steady circles against my back the way it always did when he was trying to hold both of us together at once. "I know, but," I breathed out shakily. "I should have told him sooner. It's all my fault." I sobbed, the guilt I'd been carrying for two months finally breaking loose all at once. "It must be incredibly hard for him to finally realize that his mother died that day." "We can't know what would h

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