The Rejected Omega's Bastard Heir
He knew he couldn't take a direct hit, so he was fluid, evasive, taking every opening the Alpha gave him and making it count.
The Alpha, James, was stronger, but he was holding back. And he was sloppy. His stance was wrong, his telegraphed his moves. A pup in my pack would know better. This Alpha was soft. Complacent.
Then I saw her. Alexa. My granddaughter. Her eyes were locked on the fighting omega, a look on her face I knew all too well. Hope. Desperation. She hadn't found her mate in our pack. She was praying this one, this brawling, defiant omega, was the answer to her prayers. Oh, kid. Don't get your hopes up.