Semua Bab The Rejected Omega's Redemption : Bab 301 - Bab 309

The forest clearing had gone dead silent, the kind of silence that pressed against eardrums and set nerves on edge. The rouges who stood circling Becca froze in their tracks, as though some unseen force had tightened around their throats. Even Brian, tall and broad-shouldered shifted uneasily. All eyes darted toward the dark line of trees that marked the edge of the clearing. And then Jack stepped out. His eyes went immediately to Becca, who lay on the ground, hands bound behind her back, her knees digging into the damp earth. Becca’s heart stuttered, her breath caught in her throat. She had not expected to see him here. The rouges instinctively straightened, growling low in their throats, their instincts on high alert. A stranger in the woods at this hour was always trouble. Their formation tightened around Becca, as if shielding their prize. Brian’s lip curled. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his voice echoing in the still night. Jack didn’t flinch, his gaze didn’t

The night outside pressed heavy against the tall windows, a blanket of darkness that mirrored the storm raging inside Alpha Desmond’s mind. He paced back and forth, boots scraping the polished floor, shoulders tense, fists clenching and unclenching. Seraphina sat by the hearth, the flickering firelight catching in her hair. She leaned back in her chair, her elegant face carved into a mask of disdain, though her eyes burned with irritation at every heavy footstep Desmond took. Ava stood nearer to the wall, arms folded across her chest, her expression no softer. The silence stretched until Desmond broke it with a snarl. “Eugene,” he spat the name like poison. “That pompous bastard humiliated me in front of my own guards. He punched me!!” He spun, his eyes flashing. “He made a spectacle of me just so he could drag them away on his little rescue mission.” Seraphina’s lip curled. “Because of Becca,” she said, the word dripping with disdain. “It’s always her.” “Always,” Ava echo

The morning sun crept through the tall windows of Becca’s chamber, golden beams slipping past the velvet drapes to rest upon the floor. The mansion walls were silent save for the distant sound of hooves in the courtyard and the faint clink of armor as guards changed shifts. Becca sat on the cushioned bench by the window, her knees tucked to her chest, chin resting upon them. Her hair, tangled from a restless night, fell around her face like a dark veil. Her eyes were fixed outside, but her thoughts were miles away, turning endlessly, dragging her back into the moment that had shattered her composure. The words still rang in her ears like the echo of a slap. The memory replayed in brutal detail: the way his face tightened, how the storm gathered in his eyes, his jaw grinding as though he had to swallow down words too heavy to say. And then, just like that, he had left her chamber. The door had closed behind him, not with a slam, but with that quiet, heavy finality that cut dee

Alpha Brian sat on the floor, his back pressed against the wall of his cell, shackles biting into his wrists. Brian closed his eyes, fury swirling inside him like a storm that refused to calm. He could see her face again, Becca’s, that cursed, wretched woman. The memory of last night gnawed at him. His men had dragged her to him, helpless in the woods, and he had hesitated. He could have ended it all in that single moment. He ground his teeth. "Why didn’t I kill her?" Hatred coursed through Brian’s veins, hot and blinding. He wanted to rip Eugene apart piece by piece. He wanted to see Becca suffer, to watch her break under the same torment he endured. He wanted their pack, their whole wretched pack, to burn until nothing remained but ash. The creak of metal jolted him from his thoughts. The dungeon door groaned open. Heavy footsteps echoed across the stone floor, reverberating through the silence. The rogues stirred, some hissing insults, others falling into nervous quiet.

The sun blazed warmly over the courtyard of Blackwood mansion. Mira stood among the laundry maids, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, hands working as she helped peg down the corners of Becca’s bed linens. Though she was not required to join such work, she found the rhythm of it calming, her heart unburdened for the first time in days. She lifted one of the sheets with another maid, shaking it out before they pinned it securely to the rope. The scent of sun-dried cotton mingled with the chatter of the maids. They spoke in hushed tones, mostly about Becca, about her beauty, her kindness, and her recent kidnap. Some whispered about the tension between Becca and Alpha Eugene, others speculated on whether their bond would survive the storm of whispers that spread through the pack. Mira kept silent at first, her lips pressed into a thin line. She had no wish to fuel gossip, but inside her chest, a thought pulsed, persistent and sharp. If only Becca would soften toward Eugene, if o