My Alpha Called Me Omega Until the Lycan Claimed Me

The world was burning.

Smoke choked the air as I stumbled through the pack house corridors, my arms wrapped around Cal's skeletal frame. He was barely conscious, his head lolling against my shoulder, his breathing shallow and wet. Each step sent pain shooting through my swollen belly, but I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.

Explosions rocked the building. Glass shattered somewhere behind us. Wolves howled in rage and pain—the Rogues had breached the inner defenses.

This was Bella's doing. I knew it in my bones. The timing was too perfect. The chaos too convenient.

"Norah." Cal's voice was a thread of sound. "Leave me."

"Shut up." I kicked open the service exit, and cool night air hit my face. The forest stretched before us, dark and endless. Freedom. Maybe.

I dragged him down the back steps, my legs screaming. The pup kicked hard against my ribs, as if protesting the jostling. I'm sorry, I thought. I'm so sorry.

Behind us, someone shouted. "There! The Omega—she's escaping!"

Gamma Ryan. Of course.

I plunged into the trees, half-carrying, half-dragging Cal. Branches tore at my face. Roots tried to trip me. My prison dress was soaked with sweat and blood—the bandages on my throat had come loose, and I felt warm wetness trickling down my neck.

Cal's weight was impossible. He was dying. Had been dying for months while Bella slowly poisoned him. But he was all I had left.

"Border," I rasped, the word shredding my ruined vocal cords. "Just... border."

Paws thundered behind us. Wolves in pursuit. I didn't look back.

The forest thinned. Through the trees, I saw it—the highway. The clean black asphalt that marked the edge of Blood Moon territory. Beyond it lay the neutral zone, the diplomatic corridor that led to Paris. To the Lycan King's domain.

Safety. Maybe.

If I could just reach it.

My legs gave out twenty feet from the tree line. I crashed to my knees, still clutching Cal. The pup shifted inside me, a rolling wave of movement that stole my breath.

"Norah Bishop!" Ryan's voice rang through the forest. "Stop! Alpha's orders—you're not to leave pack lands!"

I looked at Cal. His eyes were closed. His chest barely moved.

I looked at the highway.

Then I made my choice.

I shoved him. Used every ounce of strength left in my body to push my brother across the invisible line, over the asphalt, into neutral territory. He rolled twice and lay still on the far shoulder.

Safe. He was safe.

Ryan burst from the trees, three other enforcers flanking him. Their eyes glowed in the darkness. Behind them, I caught glimpses of Rogue wolves—gray and mangy, their coordination too perfect to be coincidence.

"Don't make this harder," Ryan said, advancing slowly. "The Alpha wants you back. Wants his pup safe."

I tried to stand. Tried to cross the border myself.

My body betrayed me. My legs buckled. I collapsed onto the asphalt, half on pack land, half in neutral territory. My vision swam. The pup kicked frantically, and I felt something warm and wet between my thighs.

No. Not now. Please not now.

Ryan reached for me—

And headlights blazed to life.

A motorcade materialized from the darkness like something out of a dream. Three sleek black vehicles, moving fast. Too fast. They screeched to a halt in a semicircle around us, their high beams turning night into day.

Ryan froze. The other enforcers backed up, their wolves suddenly uncertain.

Because everyone knew those vehicles. Everyone recognized the silver crest emblazoned on their doors.

The Lycan King's royal guard.

A door opened. A man stepped out—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the kind of lethal grace that made my wolf instincts scream danger even though I'd never successfully shifted. His eyes swept the scene: me, bleeding and pregnant on the asphalt. Cal, unconscious in neutral territory. The Blood Moon enforcers, frozen in place.

Those eyes—ancient gold, burning with power—locked onto mine.

And something inside me, something I'd thought was broken beyond repair, suddenly sparked to life.

My wolf. After all these years of silence, I felt her stir.

"Mine," she whispered, her voice weak but certain. "Ours."

The man's nostrils flared. His expression shifted—shock, recognition, something fierce and possessive.

He moved toward me, and Ryan stepped forward to intercept.

"Your Majesty," Ryan said carefully. "This is a pack matter. The woman is—"

"In neutral territory." The man's voice was quiet. Absolute. "Under my protection."

He knelt beside me, and his scent hit me like a physical force—pine and winter storm and something wild and ancient. My wolf whimpered. Yearned.

"Easy," he murmured, and his hand touched my face with impossible gentleness. "I've got you."

I tried to speak. To warn him about the pup, about Bella, about everything. But my ruined throat produced only that horrible rasping wheeze.

His jaw tightened. His eyes flashed pure gold.

"Who did this to you?" Not a question. A promise of violence.

I couldn't answer. Could only grip his arm as another contraction hit, as my body tried to expel the pup weeks too early.

His gaze snapped to my belly. Understanding dawned.

"Get the healer," he barked. "Now."

The royal guards moved with military precision. Someone lifted Cal. Someone else was wrapping a blanket around my shoulders.

Ryan tried one more time. "Your Majesty, the Alpha will want—"

"The Alpha," the Lycan King said softly, "can come grovel at my gates if he wants her back. But he'll have to go through me first."

He lifted me as if I weighed nothing, cradling me against his chest. I felt his heartbeat—steady, strong, alive.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I mouthed it. Norah.

"Norah." He said it like a prayer. Like a vow. "I'm Santiago. And I swear on my crown—no one will ever hurt you again."

The world tilted. The motorcade's interior was soft and warm. Cal was beside me, breathing. Alive.

Santiago's hand found mine, his fingers lacing through my bloody ones.

And as we pulled away from the border, away from the burning pack house and the wolves who'd tried to destroy me, I felt something I hadn't felt in three years.

Hope.