The others felt it too. I could tell by the way they moved, agitated, their wolves straining just beneath the surface, craving a taste of her just as much as I did.
We found her shelter first. A small cave nestled against a rocky outcrop, hidden well enough that most people would have walked right past it. I was begrudgingly impressed by the stockpile of firewood she’d gathered. Logs stacked neatly by the entrance, enough to last her weeks.
This girl had been busy preparing for winter out here. Alone.
I don’t know much about omegas. But I know they’re not built for isolation. They need warmth, closeness—the comfort of a pack around them. Being completely cut off like this, no shelter worth a damn, no companionship, surviving on whatever she could catch or steal. It would break most wolves. The fact that she’d lasted this long meant she was either the toughest omega alive or the most stubborn.
Probably both.
She was long gone by the time we found her cave. Her trail led deep into the wilderness, and her scent grew fainter the farther north we pushed. Gritting my teeth, I drove us onward. An omega had no business being alone in the woods. It went against their nature, against everything they were built for.
By the second day of tracking north, we finally caught a glimpse of her. She’d had a head start, but she was alone, hauling supplies, and most likely half-starved. Four adult males tracking together could move a hell of a lot faster.
She was cursing under her breath the entire time. Something about knot-headed psychopaths and what she’d do to our balls if she ever got her hands on a pair of scissors.
I had to admit, she was entertaining.
I told the guys to hold back. Take it slow. We observed her for a while. She was obviously skittish, and we needed to come across as non-threatening. Give her some space. Let her see we weren’t a danger.
And Elias, that impatient bastard, snapped a branch under his boot.
She froze, nostrils flaring as she caught our scent. Then, as predicted, she bolted. But we were faster this time, smarter about cutting off her routes. She whirled, teeth bared in a vicious snarl that should have been a warning to any sane male to back off.
I lunged, anyway. Her jaws snapped shut inches from my face, then clamped down on Elias’s hand.
Silas flanked her from the other side, his hulking form blocking her retreat. She darted sideways, but he was already there, closing the gap in two strides and pinning her thrashing body beneath him with a gentleness that didn’t match his size.
She writhed and cursed, her voice raw with fury. “Fucking let me go, you brainless sack of shit!”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Lean muscle fighting with everything she had, even though she was half our size and outmatched four to one. Her scent was everywhere now, sweet and furious and maddening, and my wolf was losing his damn mind. Every instinct I had screamed at me to claim her. To make her ours.
She was wild, furious, and half-starved, and the need to drag her home, where it was safe, was overwhelming.
My wolf wanted to claim her. My body wanted worse. Neither impulse made me proud.
I met her blazing eyes and grinned.
“Welcome to the pack, little omega. Time to bring you home.”
8
Mo
Iwake to the gentle sway of being carried, my head cradled against a broad chest. I don’t move for a second. Half-conscious, caught somewhere between dreams and the quiet woods. The warmth is almost unbearable after years of cold, and the steady rise and fall of breath beneath me is oddly comforting.
Then reality crashes in.
Fuck. I’m still trapped in the clutches of these alpha-holes.
The trees above come into focus, dawn light filtering through the branches. I try to shift in Clown alpha’s arms, testing his hold, but his grip tightens immediately. He knows damn well I’ll bolt if he loosens it.
I glance up. Even with that ridiculous clown mask he’s still fucking wearing, I can feel the intensity of his eyes on me. Constantly assessing, calculating something I can’t see.
He stares at me.
I stare back.
You wanna play chicken, motherfucker?