Lahat ng Kabanata ng The omega's slient vendetta: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Elara pov​The Blackwood Estate didn't just loom; it exhaled.​It was a fortress of glass and ancient stone, perched on a cliff that overlooked the churning grey Atlantic. Tonight, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and the heavy, intoxicating pheromones of several hundred high-ranking Lycans. It was the night of the Blood Moon—the night every unmated wolf lived for.​I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my small room, my hands trembling as I smoothed the white silk of my dress. It was a simple thing, bought with three months of waitressing tips, but tonight, I hoped it was enough.​"You look like a lamb playing dress-up, Elara."​I flinched as my stepmother, Sarah, leaned against the doorframe. She was a Beta-born, sharp-featured and radiating a scent of bitter citrus. She didn't look at me with pride; she looked at me like a stain on the pack's reputation.​"Julian asked for me to be there tonight," I whispered, pinning a small, silver wolf-brooch to my chest. I

Elara pov​The 88th floor of Blackwood Global was a cathedral of glass and arrogance. Usually, the air here smelled of expensive espresso and the sharp, metallic tang of the Alpha’s dominance. Today, it smelled like panic.​Julian Blackwood stood at the head of the polished obsidian table, his knuckles white as he leaned over a tablet. His tailored suit jacket was discarded on a chair, his sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with tension.​"The funds didn't just move, Marcus," Julian’s voice was a low, vibrating growl that made the younger Betas in the room flinch. "They evaporated. Forty-nine percent of our infrastructure debt was bought by a shell company in the Cayman Islands, and then sold again within six milliseconds. Who is the trustee?"​"We don't know, Alpha," Marcus whispered, his eyes darting to the floor. "The encryption is unlike anything we’ve seen. It’s... it’s silent. There’s no digital scent. No footprint. Whoever did this knows our systems better than we do."

The heavy steel door of the Blackwood Vault didn't just shut; it sealed with a vacuum hiss that seemed to suck the very oxygen out of my lungs.Fifty feet of reinforced concrete and lead shielding now stood between us and the New York rain. The silence down here wasn't the peaceful kind; it was heavy, ancient, and thick with the scent of stagnant secrets. Blue emergency lights flickered to life along the ceiling, casting long, distorted shadows that danced across the stacks of wooden crates and modern server racks.I leaned against the cold metal of the door, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Beside me, Elias was already moving, his tactical flashlight cutting a clean white path through the darkness as he scanned the perimeter.And then there was Julian.He stood in the center of the chamber, his silhouette massive against the dim light. He wasn't moving. He was just... breathing. The sound was ragged, a predatory animal trying to pull itself back from the edge of a

The roar of the cave-in was followed by a silence so absolute it felt physical.I was on my back, my lungs burning with pulverized stone and dust. My goggles had been ripped away in the blast, and for a terrifying second, I thought I had gone blind. There was no blue light, no thermal feed—just an oppressive, heavy void."Elias?" I coughed, the sound echoing weakly against close walls.No answer. Only the distant, muffled groan of settling rock. The tunnel had been severed. Elias was on the other side of a hundred tons of New York bedrock, and I was... somewhere else."Elara."The voice was close. Too close. I felt a hand—calloused, warm, and trembling—brush against my cheek. I flapped my arms instinctively, my fingers hitting a hard, muscular chest."Don't move," Julian whispered. His voice was strained, vibrating with the effort of holding something back. "The ceiling is unstable. If you shift too much, the rest of this shelf comes down on us.""Where’s my briefcase?" I rasped, my h

The black envelope felt like a brand against my skin. “The Ghost has a heartbeat.” I stared at the polaroid for a long time after Elias left the room. The circle around my neck was a direct threat to my life, but it was the small detail in the background of the photo—a reflection in a puddle—that made my breath hitch. Someone had been watching me from the moment I hit the mud five years ago. I walked toward the back of the penthouse, past the sleek marble kitchen and the high-tech server room, toward a door that remained locked even when Elias was home. I pressed my thumb to the scanner. The door hissed open to reveal a room that didn't match the rest of my cold, billionaire aesthetic. It was warm, filled with soft amber light and the scent of lavender. "Is it time to go, Elara?" A young girl, no older than seven, sat on the window seat. She had hair the color of midnight and eyes that were a startling, piercing blue—the exact shade of the Blackwood lineage. This was Maya. I hadn'