All Chapters of The Alpha's Forbidden Omega: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

BronKellan adjusts Wren’s stance for the fourth time in ten minutes, both hands settling on her hips to square them properly, and something low and possessive coils tight in my chest before I can talk myself out of the reaction.“You're doing it again,” Torn says, dry, though an edge beneath the humor tells me he's not entirely unaffected either."Doing what," I mutter, arms crossed against the wall of the training room, watching entirely too closely for a man who's supposed to be observing progress, not cataloguing every point of contact. Glaring at a man who's just doing his job.I know that. I do. Kellan's hands are professional, brief, exactly as clinical as they need to be to correct her footwork, and not once in the two weeks he's been training her has he given me a single reason to doubt his intentions. That knowledge does absolutely nothing to quiet the low growl b

WrenThe caterer corners me right after training ends, anxious about the final headcount she needs by tonight, and since I'm already halfway across the house and Bron's office is on the way back to the west wing anyway, I figure I might as well deliver the number myself instead of routing it through three different assistants the way pack business usually seems to demand.He's been buried in meetings with Delphine all day, calls with vendors, a hundred small details piling up before a ceremony that's supposed to happen in less than two weeks, and some small, warm part of me looks forward to even thirty seconds of interrupting that with something as simple as a number and a smile.“You're eager today,” Vesper notes, something fond in it, no unease at all yet, nothing to warn either of us what's waiting on the other side of that door.“I like finding reasons to see him. Is that a crime?” I mutter.&

WrenBriar and I make it back to the pack house before dawn, exhausted, shaken, the men who emerged from the trees at the lake vanishing back into the dark the moment Vesper's presence flared hard enough to make even Elara take a cautious step back. Whatever that confrontation was meant to accomplish, I don't think either of them expected me to have enough fight left in me to hold my ground.I don't tell Briar everything. I can't. The words he might be my brother refuse to form themselves into anything I'm capable of saying out loud, even to her, even now, and so I let her assume the whole ordeal was simply an ambush, dangerous and frightening on its own without needing anything more complicated layered underneath it.“You're still shielding him,” Vesper observes quietly as we slip back through the servants' entrance, the house still mostly asleep around us. “He's frantic. I can feel it even through the wall you've built.”“I

Bron"Don't." Wren's voice comes out strangled, desperate, and I watch something in her shift a half second before I fully understand what's happening. "Elara, don't you dare say another word.""He deserves to know," Elara says calmly, infuriatingly composed, watching Wren with something that might be pity or might be cruelty dressed up to look like it. "You've carried this alone long enough, child. Let me carry some of the weight for you.""You don't get to decide that,” Wren says. "Someone has to,” Elara replies. "Wren, know what?" I step closer, some instinct screaming that whatever's about to happen is worse than anything I've braced myself for over the last week of notes and flowers and desperate, one-sided attempts to reach her. "What is she talking about?""Bron, please, just go inside…” Wren pleads."I'm n

WrenMiriam doesn't scold either of us while she cleans the wound, though I can tell from the tight set of her mouth that she's holding back plenty she'd like to say. She works in careful, efficient silence, dabbing antiseptic across four deep claw marks that I put there myself, and every wince Bron tries to hide sends a fresh wave of guilt crashing through my chest."These will scar," Miriam says finally, taping the last of the gauze into place. "Not badly. Wolves heal fast enough that most of this will fade within a few weeks. But there will be marks left behind.""That's fine," Bron says, as if it costs him nothing at all, like I didn't carve four permanent lines into his chest with my own claws less than two hours ago."It's not fine." My voice comes out smaller than I mean it to. "I did that. You're going to carry scars because of me.""I'm going to carry scars because someone manipulated you into a moment of fear so severe your body reacted o