Claiming His Defiant Omega Mate

g Pack, cast my sick mother and me ou

pure silver poison right in front of the

ed like a diseased rat, locked in

Kaelen, pinned me against a brick wall, hi

se your cheap Omega tri

to watch in silence as the pack's true

father had secretly allowed, just to

d by high-ranking wolves and threatened

ddess allowed such cruelty, or why

the only one holding the ancient, forbidden

s done hiding

r's sacred relic to draw the black curse from the heir's bl

d to his knees before me, his beast howling in

pte

ra

ated by the clinging vapour, felt like a sheet of cold iron fused to my spine, and with every breath, I could feel the chill seeping into the joints of

. My father, Silas, the Alpha of the Winterfang Pack, had decided we were a stain on his reputation. He had ordered us cast out into the wild, which was not mer

ned, and a woman stepped out, wearing a rich velvet corset dress and a heavy fur cloak. It was Seraphina, the

nees hitting the wet stones with a heavy thud. "Lu

natural authority of a high-ranking wolf. "Why do you block

eraphina's cloak. "I know my life is over. But Clara... she has Winter

ust as my mother had taught me. Her gaze lingered on my face-searching

and on pack borders," Seraphina said s

hollow acceptance that seemed to carve all the life from her face be

in, her fingers trembling. "Hide this," she breathed. "It's our only legacy. What's inside... it's knowledge

invisible, suspended in an alchemical solution. The ultimate poison to our kind. It burned our blood, stopped our rapid heal

screamed, lu

tly crawled up her neck, and foam mixed with dark blood spilled from her lips. "I p

. A strange, airless cavity seemed to open up beneath my ribs, and each attempt to breathe was a ragged, useless effort. I fell to my knees, grabbing her cooling hand

a deep, solemn pity. "Guards," Seraphina commanded, her voice echoing in t

maid, a Beta wolf with broad shoulders and a stern face, stood in my doorway. "You are an Omega, and a bastard," she sneered, and the air around her carried the acrid scent of bitter a

e dry and watchful. My mother had not died so I could wither away in this attic. She had given me the locket, and wh

satisfied, and locke