Page 24 of Run Little Omega

"Get off her!" Sera's voice cuts through my terror. She staggers toward us, swaying on her feet, blood trailing down her thighs. In her hand, she clutches my fallen knife.

The alpha laughs, not even bothering to look up as he continues shredding my clothes. "Wait your turn, little one. I'll finish what we started after I claim this one."

Sera's expression hardens with determination I wouldn't have thought possible for someone half-claimed. "You won't claim either of us," she says, her voice steadying. She lifts a small pouch from her belt. "Not today."

Before the alpha can react, she hurls the pouch directly into his face. It bursts on impact, releasing a cloud of fine powder that fills his eyes and nostrils. He rears back, screaming, clawing at his face as the powder burns into his skin.

I scramble out from under him, my clothes hanging in tatters around me. Sera grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet. "Run," she commands. "Now!"

We flee together through the trees, the alpha's agonized shrieks fading behind us. Sera moves with surprising speed for someone who just survived a brutal assault, pulling me along unfamiliar paths.

"The haven," I gasp. "We need to reach?—"

"No time," she cuts me off. "He'll recover soon. Autumn Court alphas metabolize toxins quickly."

A vicious roar behind us confirms her warning. The alpha's footfalls crash through the forest, gaining rapidly.

"Here," Sera pulls me behind an ancient oak. Her fingers press against the bark in a pattern, and a section of the tree swings inward, revealing a hollow passage. "Get in!"

I hesitate. "What about you?"

Her eyes meet mine, resolute and calm. "The path will only open for one. His teeth broke my skin—he's already marked me. He'll track me no matter what."

"Then I'll stay with you. We'll fight together?—"

"No." She presses the compass into my palm, closing my fingers around it. "Find the central haven. The old woman there—she knows things." She pushes me toward the opening. "She might be able to help with your..." Her eyes flick to the bracelet on my wrist, where strange frost-like patterns have begun to form. "Just find her."

The alpha's snarls grow closer. Before I can protest, she shoves me into the hollow. The bark swings shut, sealing me inside darkness. Through the thin barrier, I hear the alpha crash into the clearing.

"Where is she?" he demands, his voice distorted by fury and thwarted rut.

"Gone," Sera answers calmly. "Somewhere you can't follow."

His growl rises into a roar of rage. "Then you'll pay for both."

What happens next will haunt my dreams forever. The sounds of fabric tearing, of Sera's initial struggle giving way to screams, of flesh striking flesh with bruising force. Her cries grow increasingly desperate as the alpha reclaims her with brutal efficiency, punishment evident in every sound.

I press my hands over my ears, but it doesn't help. Tears stream down my face as I listen to someone dying to protect me—not a physical death, but the death of self that comes with violent claiming.

The sounds that follow make me retch. Bone snapping. A final, gurgling cry. The wet, meaty sound of flesh tearing beyond repair. The Autumn Court alpha has done more than claim—he's destroyed.

Silence falls.

Eventually, the tree passage reopens of its own accord. I stumble out on shaking legs, bile burning my throat.

Sera lies broken on the forest floor, her body twisted unnaturally, her throat torn open to the spine. Beside her, the alpha crouches, his cock still inside her cooling body, his face buried in the ruined flesh of her neck as he laps at the wound. Blood coats his mouth and chin, dripping onto his chest in crimson rivulets.

He hasn't noticed me yet.

I back away silently, one step at a time, clutching Sera's compass in one hand and my makeshift knife in the other. Branches shift in the wind, thankfully masking the sound of my retreat.

When I'm far enough away, I run.

Sera died because I tried to help her—because I underestimated the savagery of the Hunt. Guilt and rage burn in my chest like hot metal. I won't let her sacrifice be meaningless.

The compass needle spins wildly before settling southeast. According to Sera, that's where I'll find the first haven. The central haven, where an old woman might explain these strange frost patterns on my arm, must lie deeper in the forest.

The silver bracelet on my wrist pulses with cold fire. Magical patterns spiral outward from the metal, climbing up my forearm in delicate whorls—not geometric Winter Court patterns, but something else. Something I don't understand.

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