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The Lycan King's Secret Deal with the Broken Omega
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The Lycan King's Secret Deal with the Broken Omega Novel Cover

The Lycan King's Secret Deal with the Broken Omega

As a wolfless Omega, I just wanted to be worthy of my Alpha mate, Kael. So when his mother asked me to secretly deliver a classified treaty, I didn't hesitate. But it was a trap. The room she sent me to held a half-naked Rogue and a forged treaty ceding Pack lands. Kael kicked the door down and caught us. He didn't listen to my pleas. My best friend stood by and lied, claiming I was planning to fake a pregnancy to trap him. When I desperately cried out that I was actually two months pregnant with his heir, Kael looked at me with absolute disgust. "The thought of you carrying anything of mine makes my very soul sick." He formally rejected me, severed our mate-bond, and banished me to the wild. That night, a Rogue hired by his mother attacked me in the woods. He kicked my stomach until my baby was gone. When I woke up in a sterile hospital, I sent Kael one last desperate text about our murdered child. His reply was cold: "Stop the lies. You are dead to me." He then used his billionaire influence to blacklist me from every home and job in the city. I was left penniless, bleeding, and hunted by the man who once swore to protect me. My grief calcified into pure, vicious hatred. With nowhere to go, I risked my life to save an elderly woman in an alley. Her grandson arrived—Declan Kane, a terrifyingly powerful Lycan King whose authority dwarfed any Alpha. He offered me absolute protection from the Blackwoods if I agreed to a deal. I took his hand. This time, I would survive, and I would make them all bleed.
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Chapter 7

Seraphina POV

Two days. That was how long it took for my body to heal enough to be discarded, and for my soul to bleed out completely.

Standing at the hospital billing counter, I stared at the sleek black card Kael had given me months ago. Stop the lies, Seraphina. I don't care about your games. You are dead to me. The text he sent two nights ago echoed in my hollow chest, a phantom blade twisting in my heart. Using his money meant accepting his narrative—that our murdered pup was just a trick.

I shoved the card back into my pocket and pulled out a thick envelope of cash, my entire life savings from my days as a Pack secretary. The human clerk's eyes widened in pity as I paid the astronomical bill in full. I was penniless, but I was free. The last chain binding me to Kael Blackwood was severed.

Walking out into the biting wind, the sterile hospital scent faded. I thought of the money, of the Pack House, of Genevieve Blackwood. The Moon Goddess never blesses a traitor's womb. Her venomous whisper before the attack played in my mind. It wasn't just a cruel taunt; it was a confession. Genevieve had orchestrated the Rogue attack. She murdered my baby to keep her precious Alpha bloodline pure. A dark, vicious hatred took root where my grief had been. I swore to the Goddess, I would make her pay.

By nightfall, my exhaustion was bone-deep. I dragged myself to the cheapest motels on the city's edge. The first two claimed they were full the second they saw my ID. At the third, a dingy place smelling of stale smoke, the manager didn't even pretend.

"Mr. Blackwood put the word out," he muttered, avoiding my eyes. "No legitimate business in this city will take you in. We don't want Pack trouble."

I was a wolfless Omega, exiled and now hunted by the very Alpha who was supposed to protect me.

With nowhere to go, I collapsed onto a freezing park bench. My fingers numb, I pulled out my phone and searched my name. The results were a tidal wave of filth. Rogue's whore. Wolfless parasite. Articles and Pack forums accused me of faking a pregnancy to trap the Alpha. My photos were plastered everywhere, drowning in vicious comments. Kael was letting them crucify me. His silence was his endorsement. My heart turned to absolute ice.

A muffled scream shattered the quiet night.

I bolted up, my instincts overriding my exhaustion. The sound came from a dark, trash-littered alley nearby. I crept closer and saw a massive man—reeking of the sour, metallic stench of a Rogue—trying to drag an elegantly dressed elderly woman toward a rusted sedan.

"Hey! Let her go!" I screamed, stepping into the dim streetlight.

The Rogue paused, sniffing the air. A cruel smirk twisted his scarred face as he registered my scent. "A wolfless little bitch. Go away, before I gut you too." He pulled a hunting knife, the blade glinting in the dark.

I had nothing left to lose. As he lunged, underestimating my desperate rage, I grabbed a heavy metal trash can lid. I swung it with every ounce of strength I possessed, smashing it directly into his face. He stumbled back, stunned. I shoved him hard. His head cracked sickeningly against the car door, and he crumpled to the asphalt, out cold.

Panting, I dropped the dented lid and rushed to the trembling woman. "Are you okay? We need to get out of here before he wakes up."

She didn't seem to hear me. Her wide, tear-filled eyes were locked on my face. Slowly, a trembling hand reached up, her soft fingers brushing my cold cheek. The sheer reverence in her gaze made my breath hitch.

"Agnes?" she breathed, her voice breaking with a miraculous, agonizing joy. "My beautiful girl... I knew you were alive."

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