All Chapters of The last omega: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

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 cra

Irene My eyes open slowly as I look at the sky. The light is dim, as though the sun has already passed its highest point. My whole body aches, heavy as stone, every breath dragging fire through my ribs. I push myself up slowly, damp moss clinging to my palms. I turn my head and see the cliff towering above me. Somehow I survived the fall, but the river has dragged me far from where I plunged. I try to climb back, clawing at roots and stones, but the earth is too slick. My fingers bleed from the effort. Defeated, I slump down, gasping. The trees here are different—closer, darker, their branches knitting together like bars of a cage. I never knew the lower forest was so thick, so impossible to navigate. Disoriented, I push forward anyway, searching for a way out. Roots scratch my ankles. I circle once, twice, three times; every path doubles back like the forest is toying with me. Keep moving, Aria whispers, her voice thin with pain. Don’t stop here. “I won’t,” I breathe, though m

Irene The bonfire burns high in the center of the clearing, throwing golden light across faces that watch me with open disbelief. I look around. No tents or barracks—this is no military camp. Around the fire, I glimpse houses built of timber and stone, their walls strong, their roofs pitched against the mountain winds. It’s a pack, thriving in the depths of the forest, where I never thought one could exist. I sit wrapped in Elias’s cloak, warmth sinking into bones still bruised. Rowan crouches close, restless energy humming under his skin, while Cassian stands tall behind him, a shadow carved of stone. The others—men of every age—circle us, their gazes heavy. “You wanted truth,” Cassian says at last. His voice cuts through the night. “Then you’ll have it. But don’t expect it to be gentle.” Rowan smirks, tossing a twig into the fire. “Nothing here ever is.” Elias leans forward, his eyes steady on mine. “A hundred years ago, our world was different. We had women. We had mates. Fa

Irene After breakfast, they don’t let me lift a finger. Cassian gathers the tray, Rowan teases that I’ll grow spoiled, and Kevin just hums as he sets things back in order. Elias is the one who says, “There’s something we should show you.” I hesitate. “What is it?” He glances at the others. “The last room of the last woman in our pack. It hasn’t been touched for over a hundred years.” The words sink into me like cold water. Still, I nod. “Show me.” They lead me down a hallway I haven’t walked before. The floorboards creak, and sunlight spills through tall windows. When Cassian pushes the door open, dust rises in a soft cloud, as if the room has been holding its breath for a century. I step inside slowly. The air smells faintly of cedar and old fabric. The bed is smaller than theirs, carved with flowers along the frame. A pale dress still hangs on a peg by the wardrobe, its hem faded and yellowed with time. A brush rests on the dresser, strands of dark hair still tangled in the b

Irene By the time the food is on the table, I’ve almost forgotten the state of the kitchen. Rowan and I are still brushing flour from our clothes when the others come in. Kevin stops in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of us. “What… happened to you two?” Rowan smirks, straightening his shoulders like a soldier proud of battle scars. “Victory,” he says. “Sweet, messy victory.” Cassian raises one brow. “You look like you lost.” “Correction,” Elias adds dryly, glancing at the streak of sauce still on my cheek. “You both look like you lost.” Heat rushes to my face, and I swipe at the sauce too late. Rowan laughs so hard he nearly doubles over. “It was a tactical skirmish,” he says between breaths. “The food survived. That’s what matters.” Kevin shakes his head, smiling as he pulls out a chair for me. “You two are unbelievable.” We sit around the long table, the sunlight pouring in from the tall windows, the plates of food filling the air with warmth and spice. For a momen