THE ALPHA'S FORGOTTEN OMEGA のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 1 - チャプター 10

The trick to being invisible is consistency.Not silence. Not stillness. Those draw attention — people notice an absence faster than a presence. The trick is to exist at exactly the level everyone expects. No more. No less.Four years of practice.Today should be easy.The Ranking Ceremony is held on the first full moon after summer solstice. Every wolf in Ironveil Pack fills the great hall. Ranks confirmed, bonds announced, hierarchy made flesh and official. It's religious the way most pack rituals are religious — which is to say it's mostly about power and everyone pretends otherwise.I stand at the back. Left wall. Three feet from the secondary exit.This is where Omegas stand.We aren't called forward. Our ranks were settled years ago. Some at fourteen. Some fifteen. Me at sixteen, which was its own particular humiliation, but I've had time to make peace with it. We're here because attendance is mandatory. We are furniture. We are the thing the room needs to feel complete without

I find out his name the way I find out most things.I listen.The market runs every third morning along Ironveil's south wall — traveling merchants, pack traders, the occasional rogue who's bought a temporary pass and knows not to make eye contact with anyone above Delta rank. I come for the Moonveil root. The vendor who carries it sets up near the grain stalls, second row from the left, and pretends it's for cooking because technically selling scent-suppressants to Omegas is a grey area that nobody wants to make official.I was here this morning before the stranger arrived.I know this because I had already identified the fourteen people in the market, cataloged the two exits plus the gap in the south wall where the stone crumbled last winter and nobody fixed it, and located my vendor — when the market changed.Not loudly.That's the thing nobody tells you about a genuinely dangerous person entering a space. It doesn't get louder. It gets quieter. Conversations don't stop — they just

I wake up knowing.Not a thought. A body thing. The way you know before you open your eyes that the weather changed overnight — something in the pressure, something in the quality of the air against your skin.I reach under my cot.The cloth wrap is there. I unwrap it on my lap in the dark, before the torchlight from the corridor is even necessary, because my hands already know what they're going to find.Two pieces.I stare at them.Two pieces, both small, both the dried-out crumbly kind that means they've been in the wrap too long and will give me maybe sixty percent of a full dose each. Yesterday I used one piece in the main hall. Yesterday Caius said stop taking it in front of thirty witnesses and I said nothing and walked out and spent the rest of the day calculating whether that silence read as defiance or deflection.I think it read as defiance.Which means today is worse than yesterday.I take both pieces. Press them under my tongue at the same time, which I've never done beca

Nobody moves.That's the thing about a corridor when an Alpha arrives with intent. The air doesn't crackle. There's no dramatic shift. Everything just — stops. Like the building itself is waiting to see what rank decides to do next.Caius is twenty feet away.Kael is in my doorway.Dara is behind me on my cot, hands flat on her knees, not breathing.I look at Kael's back. He stepped into the doorway when I opened it — not into the room, just into the frame — and now he's between me and the corridor in a way that is either protective or territorial and I genuinely cannot tell which and I'm not sure he can either.Caius looks at Kael.Kael looks at Caius.Something passes between them. Not words. Not challenge, exactly. More like two people who have both done the same math and arrived at different answers and are now deciding whether the math is worth fighting about.The Gammas flanking Caius look like they want to be somewhere else. Both of them. The younger one has his eyes fixed on t

The north ridge at night is not a place Omegas go.This is not a rule written anywhere. It doesn't need to be. The north ridge is pack border territory — Gamma patrol route, Alpha hunting ground, the kind of space that belongs to rank the way certain chairs at a table belong to certain people without anyone having to say it out loud.I've been here twice before.Both times alone. Both times because I needed to think and my room was too small and the walls too thin and the north ridge at three in the morning has a specific quality of empty that the pack house never achieves.I know the path. That's what matters.The moon is three-quarters full. Enough light to see by, not enough to force anything — I'm past the age of involuntary shifts, have been since seventeen, but three-quarters full still pulls at something low in my chest. A reminder. The system asserting itself.I ignore it the way I ignore most things the system does.Kael is already there.Of course he is.He's standing at the