All Chapters of The Alpha's Forbidden Omega: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

WrenThree hours.That's how long I've been sitting on the edge of Bron's bed, staring at the door, waiting for the sound of his key in the lock that never comes. The perimeter alarm went silent sometime around two in the morning, but the silence that followed it feels worse somehow, heavier, thick with something I can't name but every instinct in my body recognizes as wrong.“Something's happened,” Vesper says quietly, for the third or fourth time in the last hour, her unease bleeding steadily into my own until I can't tell anymore where her fear ends, and mine begins.I know. The bond feels different. Distant. Like static instead of silence. I've felt it too, some faint, wrong hum where Bron's steady presence should be, and every time I try to focus on it, try to reach for him the way I've learned to over the last few weeks, I find only that same strange, staticky distance, nothing clear enough to draw any real conclusion from.I told

BronI wake up to the smell of damp stone and my own blood.The pain comes first, a dull, pulsing throb radiating from the back of my skull, and it takes several long, disoriented seconds before the rest of my senses catch up enough to register anything beyond it. Cold floor beneath me. Rope, tight and expertly knotted, binding my wrists behind my back. A low, flickering light somewhere off to my left, casting long shadows across walls that look old, damp, forgotten, some kind of cellar, or maybe a bunker, far enough underground that no sound from above filters down at all.“You're awake”. Torn's voice comes through hazy and strained, weaker than I've ever heard him. “Finally. I've been trying to reach you for what feels like hours.”“How long was I out?” I ask.“I don't know. Long enough that I'm worried. Something about this place is muffling me. Like the walls themselves are working against us.” He

WrenThe vial's liquid catches the harsh work light strangely, shimmering silver-blue in a way that doesn't look entirely natural, and Elara holds it out toward me with the careful reverence of someone handling something sacred."A few drops, applied directly to the mark," she says. "That's all it takes to begin unraveling what I wove into you twenty years ago. The rest, I'm afraid, will simply have to happen, and neither of us can fully predict what that looks like once it starts.""That's reassuring," Bron mutters beside me, tension radiating off every line of his body despite his earlier promise not to interfere."I never claimed certainty," Elara says simply. "Only necessity."I pull my collar aside, exposing the crescent mark I've carried my entire remembered life, and something about baring it deliberately, choosing this instead of having it forced or hidden, settles a strange, steady calm into my chest despite the fear still humming undernea

WrenIt starts as warmth under my skin, low and slow, somewhere around midday.I don't think much of it at first. Miriam warned me the power might take days to fully settle, that there could be aftershocks while my body finished adjusting to carrying something it spent twenty years locked away from. So when the warmth starts pooling low in my stomach somewhere between breakfast and the pack meeting Damon's called for noon, I chalk it up to exactly that. Adjustment. Nothing more.By the time the meeting actually starts, I know it's not that.“…which means Adrien's resources are more stretched than he's letting anyone believe," Damon is saying, spreading a map across the study table, and I'm nodding along like I'm listening, like any of this is actually landing properly in my head instead of sliding straight past it while every nerve in my body hums with something I don't have a name for yet.“Vesper?” I speak in my head trying to comunicate with Vesper. “I feel it too.” She sounds unc

BronRonan holds the phone up and presses play.Adrien Conrad looks calm. That's the first thing that scares me. Last time I saw him he was spitting threats across my father's study. Now he's pressed and polished and standing behind a podium like a man about to announce a merger.Serena stands at his shoulder. Dark dress. Hair pulled back. Face blank as paper."Alphas of the region," Adrien says. "Elders. Packs of good standing. I speak to you tonight under the Old Accord, section nine.""Section nine," Miriam breathes behind me. "He wouldn't.""He is," Ronan says.Wren's fingers close around my wrist. Hard. I glance down, and her knuckles are white, her breathing already too shallow, and I know without asking that the broadcast isn't the only thing hitting her right now."Twenty years ago," Adrien goes on, "the Ashborn pack concealed the survival of a Nightfall child. Not by accident. By design. Damon Ashborn swore before this