All Chapters of The last omega: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Irene The door opens at the same hour it always does. But this time it isn’t Tobias with a tray or a faceless omega slipping in and out. It’s Jack. He carries a tray himself, silver and polished, like he’s playing at being civilized. Two plates, steam rising, and a bottle of wine that looks older than both of us. He sets it on the table with a flourish and a smile that never reaches his eyes. “Dinner,” he says smoothly. “Just the two of us.” My stomach knots. “I’m not hungry.” “Then sit anyway.” His aura slides into the room like smoke, pressing on my skin, heavy and suffocating. “It would be rude to let me eat alone.” I don’t want to move, but my legs carry me to the chair. Not because I bend, but because I know he’ll drag me if I don’t. I sit, back straight, hands in my lap. Jack sits across from me and pours the wine. His eyes linger too long on my face, on my throat, on the small tremor in my hands that I can’t quite stop. “You know,” he says lightly, “most wo

Irene The door opens later than usual. I lift my head, expecting the familiar scrape of a tray and Tobias’s quiet voice announcing bread or soup. But there’s no tray tonight. Instead, Tobias slips inside with a small black bag clutched to his chest. His eyes dart to the hallway before he shuts the door softly, his back pressed against it as if he’s holding the whole house away. “What’s that?” I ask, sitting up. He doesn’t answer at first. He walks quickly to the bed, sets the bag down, and pushes it toward me. “Change. Quickly.” I blink, confused, then unzip it. Inside I find folded clothes—black trousers, a simple T-shirt, a hoodie with fraying strings, and a pair of boots that look worn but sturdy. My breath catches. “Where did you get these? They’re my size.” Tobias’s lips twitch into the smallest smile. “They’re not. They’re children’s clothes. From laundry duty. No one notices what’s missing if you’re quiet about it.” I hold the hoodie in my hands, soft from too

Irene Tobias draws me deeper, off the first path, into the between-spaces where branches hide your outline and the ground is soft with needles. He waits until the yard is only a shape between trunks, then stops. “This is the line,” he whispers. “From here, listen for water. When you hear it, go to it. Walk in it if you can. Follow it east.” I nod, clutching the map. He looks me over quickly: hood up, boots tight, trousers tucked. Satisfied, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wrapped bundle. “Bread. Dried meat. Not much, but it helps.” I take it and slip it inside the hoodie. “Thank you.” He swallows, eyes shining in the dark. “You asked me if I’d be in trouble.” “Yes.” My voice thins. “Will you?” He tries for a smile and almost gets there. “If I’m caught, whatever the price is… it will be worth it.” “Tobias—” He shakes his head. “Don’t spend your fear on me. Spend it on the ground in front of you. On the river stones. On the branches that might rememb

Irene The river hums steadily at my side, but it no longer feels like a guide. It feels like mockery. Each bend looks the same, each rock as ordinary as the last. I clutch the map in my damp hands, Tobias’s careful lines smudged at the edges from water and sweat. The marks are clear: the river winding, an arrow pointing east, a circle for the pack house that means home. It should be simple. But the paper doesn’t tell me where I am on it. My boots squish with every step, water still seeping through from the night. My body aches from hours of walking, but worse than the ache is the gnawing in my chest. “I don’t know where I am,” I whisper, the words tearing out of me like a secret too heavy to hold. Aria presses closer in my head, steady as ever. Keep calm. Maps are lines. Lines are choices. We choose one and we walk it. “But what if it’s the wrong line?” My voice breaks. “What if I’m walking away from them?” The trees don’t answer. The river doesn’t change its song. I loo

Cassian The fire is burning low when Kevin finally steadies, his breath slow, his eyes wet but clear. I open my mouth to ask what he felt—but Caius surges forward before I can speak. She’s close, he growls inside me, pacing hard, claws scratching at the walls of my mind. I stiffen. What do you mean? Aria. I feel her. The thread we tied when we ran together—it’s still there. She’s calling. Weak, but real. My chest tightens. Irene. I shove back from the table, eyes snapping to my brothers. “Caius feels her. He says Aria’s there.” Rowan frowns. “How can he know?” I press a hand to my chest, breathing hard. “Because they ran together. That night in the forest, when Irene let Aria out—our wolves bonded. He says that bond never broke.” Kevin’s head jerks up, his eyes wide. “Then follow it!” Elias leans forward, steady as ever. “Cassian, if Caius can sense her, don’t wait. Let’s run.” Caius snarls impatiently in my head. Enough talking. Shift. I don’t argue. My clo