Not Just an Incubator: The Omega's Revenge

a

dusty scent of old paper, filling the small r

lpha he once was and more like a skeleton draped in parchment.

ng my fingers around h

he irises were milky, blind to the world a

va

d was a whisper of

it was magic..

ed back, choking on the m

voice strained, fraying at the edges. *Onc

ink s

p within my chest. A long, high-pitched whine echoed in the room-not from

, si

as g

thing, but I didn't have time to release it

va

sturdy and composed, but now she looked frantic. Her face was streaked

the numbness spreading f

ides and crushed me against her.

rs hard enough to bruise. "But Ava, you ne

g to pull away. "Not n

use he isn't at a meeting! He's lying to you, a

hand. The screen was bright

rough the window of a high-end restauran

here. Olivi

preadsheets. They weren't

that twisted my stomach into knots-a look of adoration I had cra

hanced microphone kicked in, cu

ly casual. *"Once the Omega drops the brat, we can send her to the Rogue

d?"* Olivia asked, her fingers

touch. *"The witch's spell ensured the child h

ubat

my skull; it ricocheted, shat

paralyzed me. I sh

I di

warm spark of hope; it was hot, white, and furious. It seared t

e grey room vanished. The world sha

ro

throat, vibrating through

eyes widening in shock. "Your e

its place stood the White Wolf. She had been sleeping, suppressed by their drugs

e back,

ge-double-layered, har

e Pack

ve somethi

with the ozone scent of my gathering power. I didn't bother wi

ment in his mahogany desk-I had

was. Th

iled everything. The "Scent Modulator." The bribes to

age marked wi

ture – Termina

wort. Toxic to wolves, but in small, controlled dos

se I got pregnant with a girl. He only

page, the ink bl

s a science experiment. It was a chain forged by dark magic that

baby, they w

would raise it to be a

head, a sound of ancient

iece of paper. My hand

ng deep into the paper. But ink wasn't enoug

ed the

my phone and

something," I said.

hing,

e word tasting bitter on my

nce on the other end. I cou

t will kill

my voice dead, devoid of any moth

she whispered, he

indow at the full moon, hangi

the Ome