All Chapters of The Weak Omega's Redemption: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

I couldn't get the chat with the rogue wolf out of my head; their tales were all proof of Oliver's brutality.Like a predator constantly on guard, Lucas moved silently and fluidly next to me. His presence served as a continual source of solace and a reminder that I wasn't fighting this battle alone.Lucas broke the silence by saying, "We'll stick to the northern trails. It's unlikely that they have scouts stationed there."I adjusted the strap of the bag that was slung over my shoulder and nodded. It was little, containing just the necessities that we had gathered. “Do you think the rogues will come through for us?”Lucas paused, staring straight ahead. "They may. But we cannot completely depend on them. If they fail to appear, we will have to proceed without them."It was intimidating to think of taking on Oliver without any help, but I forced myself to ignore the thought. I couldn't afford to think about doubts.The air be

I said, "We need to move now," while attempting to control my frustration.Tension was high as the rebels assembled in a poorly lit hiding place. With his arms folded and his face unreadable, Cain stood. The others, a dozen or so, looked at me intently, anticipating what I would say next. Like a thick mist, I could feel the weight of their stares and their unsaid misgivings bearing down on me."Move now?" Maia’s piercing, disbelieving voice broke the stillness. "Anna, we don’t even have a plan yet!"I tightened my fists and forced myself to remain composed. "Time is not a luxury we own. Oliver won't give up until he burns down any remaining resistance. Before he detects us, we must attack."Before moving on, Cain looked at some of the other rebels. "You talk about striking, but do you even know what you’re up against?" He examined me with his dark eyes, looking for any signs of weakness. "He has warriors, Oliver—trained individuals

"It’s almost time."It wasn’t just a statement; it was a reckoning. The kind of words that carried the gravity of everything we had fought for, everything we had lost, and everything we stood to lose. Even though he was trying so hard to hide it, I could detect the slight tremor behind his firm tone. It was the shudder of a man who was preparing for what was about to happen. I let out a breath and looked out over the area of land in front of us. As though the world itself were holding its breath for what was about to happen, the night was strangely calm. Tension permeated the air, the kind that caused your chest to tighten and your skin to prickle. Long, jagged shadows were cast over the assembled rebels by the orange glare of distant fires. As though they were restless too, the flames danced madly, reflecting the uneasiness that descended upon us all. With low murmurs and deliberate movements, the rebels moved in quiet tones. Each one of

The battlefield was a bloody, chaotic nightmare.The night was filled with screams as the rebels gave it their all in battle, but Oliver's forces were unrelenting and mercilessly defeated us. My muscles ached from the never ending battle, and I was breathing in ragged breaths, but there was no time to pause. Another life was lost with every second that passed.Maia was down.Across the field, I saw her fall, hitting the ground with a horrible crack. As I surged at her, avoiding an enemy's claws at the last second, my stomach knotted in terror."Maia!" I fell on my knees next to her. Her breathing was shallow, and blood was leaking from a deep wound along her shoulder.Her body trembled uncontrollably as she attempted to push herself up. "I'm fine," she rasped, but I could tell she wasn't."You're not," I said as I applied pressure to the cut. My palm was stained by the warmth of her blood, and my chest developed a hollow hole.Lucas s

There was silence on the battlefield. The silence was not one that resulted from relief or tranquility. It was the thick, stifling type that comes after a storm, as though the world itself was holding its breath. The ground was covered in fallen people, and the air was heavy with the smell of smoke and blood. With a mixture of amazement and incredulity, the rebels who had survived the slaughter and were still standing glanced at Anna. Oliver was lying at her feet, immobile and broken. His burnt body stood out sharply against the blood-soaked ground below, and his once-imposing figure had now collapsed into a crumpled heap. He was not yet dead, but he was very nearly so. His chest rose and fell in weak, irregular spasms, and his breaths were shallow. With her shoulders heaving and her hands still burning dimly from the last of her power, Anna stood over him. Her hair was knotted and wild, and her face was stained with blood and filth, but her ey