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The last omega
The last omega
Author: Kristina Angels

Chapter 1 – Happy Birthday

last update Last Updated: 2025-09-03 02:16:48

Irene

“Happy birthday,” I whisper to myself as I smooth down the hem of my faded dress. Eighteen. Today is the day the Moon Goddess reveals my mate. The day Omegas like me finally get a chance to belong.

My heart hammers as I step into the great hall. Alphas and Betas tower over me, their laughter loud, their arrogance filling the air like smoke. Omegas linger along the edges, silent shadows. That’s where I usually belong—unseen, unwanted. But today is different.

At least, I thought it would be.

I take one step into the current of bodies and the air changes—sweet and electric—like the moment before lightning. It hits my tongue first, then my lungs, then my bones. Scent. Not one, but three threads spreading through the hall.

Frost and ozone, the bite of a storm over stee.

Cedar smoke and sharpened iron, hot as a whetstone.

Sun-warm wheat and clean leather, the breath right before a harvest.

Aria surges to the front of my mind, tail high, eyes bright. Mate. Mates. Her joy cracks something open inside me. The pull is magnetic, a low, thrumming ache that drags me forward before I remember to breathe.

The bond sings through my chest like a new heartbeat, and for a fragile, shining second, I belong.

Three pairs of golden eyes lock on me from across the hall. Damian, Lucian and Adrian. The Alpha triplets. The heirs of this pack. Gasps ripple through the crowd like a wave.

For one fragile moment, hope blooms inside me. The Goddess chose them for me .And she chose me for them . Not trash. Not worthless. Chosen.

Then Damian laughs.

The sound is sharp, cruel, and it slices straight through my chest.

“You? A low-level omega?” His lip curls in disgust. “The bond must be broken. There’s no way.”

Lucian steps closer, eyes blazing with contempt. “Our mate is this Omega? Pathetic. I’d rather choose than accept .”

Adrian shakes his head, voice flat. “The Goddess must be blind.”

The bond inside me sears. My knees buckle. I can’t breathe. My wolf, Aria, howls in my mind, her cries echoing with my own heartbreak. Why, Goddess? How can they do this when You chose us?

Damian’s gaze hardens. “Say it, brothers. Reject her.”

Lucian’s voice is a whip all its own. “We, the heirs of this pack, reject you, Omega filth.”

The rejection slams into me like claws tearing through my chest. I stumble, clutching my ribs, as if I can hold my breaking heart together. Aria wails, her pain a mirror of mine.

But I refuse to fall in front of them.

Adrian’s words fall like the final blade. “We will never accept you.”

The hall erupts in laughter, cruel and merciless. Omegas bow their heads. No one dares move.

“Look at her,” a voice purrs from behind them. Clara. The Beta’s daughter. Lucian’s girlfriend. Her smile drips poison as she steps into the circle, a leather whip coiled in her hand. “Did you really think you could have them? That anyone could love an Omega?”

My lips part, but no words come. My throat is raw, strangled by grief.

“Pathetic,” Clara spits. And then the whip cracks.

Agony explodes across my back. My scream shatters in the air.

The second strike follows, tearing skin. The third makes my knees hit the stone floor. The fourth drives the breath from my lungs.

“Stop,” I rasp, but my plea is swallowed by laughter.

Clara circles me like a predator. “Beg, Omega. Show them what you really are.”

The whip falls again and again, fire carving through flesh, my dress sticking to blood-soaked skin. Each lash rips me further apart. The crowd cheers, voices jeering. “Worthless!” “Trash!” “Nothing but dirt!”

“How can you do this?” My voice is hoarse, broken. I lift my gaze, desperate, toward the triplets. “The Goddess paired us. You were supposed to protect me. To love me—”

Damian’s boot slams into my ribs, cutting me off. Pain sears through my side, stealing my breath.

“Love you?” he snarls. “You disgust me.”

Aria whimpers, her voice ragged inside me. They’re killing us. Our mates are killing us.

Clara laughs, the sound high and wild, as she drags the whip’s handle along my torn back. “Look at her. Still breathing. Still hoping. How adorable.” She strikes again. My body jerks, my cry breaking into sobs I can’t hold back.

“Enough,” Adrian mutters, but he doesn’t move. His voice is drowned beneath the roar of approval from the hall.

Blood trickles down my spine, pooling on the floor beneath me. My arms tremble, but I push against the stone, forcing myself upright. My vision swims, but I refuse to collapse completely. I will not give them that satisfaction.

Damian sneers. “Pathetic even in defiance.” He nods at the guards. “Take her to the basement. Let her rot.”

Rough hands seize me, dragging me across the floor. My torn skin scrapes against stone, every movement a new wave of fire. Clara’s laughter follows me until the heavy door slams shut, throwing me into darkness.

The basement stinks of damp earth and mold. Chains hang from the walls, relics of old punishments . They throw me down like trash, and the echo of their footsteps fades until only silence remains.

I lie there, my body trembling, pain a storm I can’t escape. My heart is shards, my bond nothing but an open wound. Aria whimpers, broken. Why didn’t they love us? Why weren’t we enough?

“I don’t know,” I whisper into the dark. My voice is raw, cracked. “I don’t know.”

Time blurs. Hours pass like days. My wounds burn, sticky with blood. My stomach clenches, hollow and aching. My lips crack with thirst.

The door creaks open. Light slices into the dark. My heart leaps in terror, expecting Clara’s shadow.

But it’s not her.

A hand slips in. Trembling. Thin. In it, a piece of bread and a dented cup of water. I lift my gaze. Another Omega stands there, eyes wide with fear and pity.

“Eat,” she whispers. “Please. Before they come back.”

Tears sting my eyes, hot and humiliating. Not for the pain, not for the rejection. But for this—the fragile kindness of an omega.

An omega whom they never looked down upon, gave me the only warmth.

I force my hand to move, to take the bread. My fingers shake. My throat burns as the water slides down.

The girl watches me, her lips pressed tight. “You can’t fight them,” she murmurs.

I close my eyes, pressing my bloody palms into the cold stone. “Maybe not. But I won’t yield. Not to them. Not ever.”

Even if it kills me.

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