Page 25 of Run Little Omega

I press forward, finding paths through the dense undergrowth. The first haven appears before me like a mirage—a perfect circle surrounded by white-barked trees glowing like polished bone in the filtered morning light. The protective barrier shimmers subtly, visible only as a heat-haze distortion in the air.

I approach cautiously, circling the perimeter rather than walking directly in. Inside, six omegas have already gathered. Some bear fresh claiming marks—deep puncture wounds where alpha teeth broke skin. One woman's shoulder hangs at an unnatural angle, clearly dislocated. Another rocks back and forth, her small body wracked with silent sobs.

I step through the barrier. Magic washes over me like water that doesn't wet, probing, identifying, allowing passage when it confirms my omega status. For a moment I fear it will detect my glamour, but the barrier accepts me without incident.

Inside, the air feels different. Cleaner somehow, as if the magic cleanses more than just threats.

"Another one," says an older woman grinding herbs between smooth stones. Blood cakes her fingernails and speckles her forearms. "That makes seven of us. How many left out there, I wonder?"

No one answers her question. We all know the numbers—nearly a hundred omegas released into the forest at the start of the Hunt. Seven here. Perhaps a similar number at each of the other six havens. The rest...

"Thank you," I say, settling on a flat stone near the edge of the clearing. Close enough to appear social, far enough to make a quick exit if needed. "I'm Willow, from Thornwick."

"Marta," the older woman replies, not looking up from her work. "This is my third Hunt."

I try to hide my shock but must fail, because she chuckles dryly.

"Yes, some of us survive. Not many, but some. The courts need caretakers for their breeding stock, after all." Her voice is matter-of-fact, without bitterness. "I tend to the claimed ones now. It's a sort of... position."

My gaze drifts to a young woman sitting alone, staring at nothing. Her once-fine clothes are torn and dirty, but the quality of the fabric is still evident. Her platinum blonde hair hangs in tangled waves around a face too perfect to belong to a common villager. A trickle of blood runs down her inner thigh, slow and steady, disappearing into the dirt beneath her.

"That's Ivy," Marta says, following my gaze. "Daughter of the magistrate from Silverdale. Volunteered to save her younger sister." She lowers her voice. "The Huntsman took her last night. He was gentler than most, but the first claiming is always a shock to the system."

I watch as Marta rises and approaches Ivy with a small clay pot of salve. The younger woman doesn't resist as Marta applies it to the angry red puncture wounds on her neck, but she doesn't acknowledge the care either. Her eyes remain vacant, looking at something none of us can see.

"Will she...?" I begin, then find I don't know how to finish the question.

"Recover? In body, yes, probably. In mind?" Marta shrugs. "Some do. Some don't. The Huntsman likes to break them slowly, piece by piece. He claims with a smile, tells them how special they are while he tears them open. His kindness is more devastating than other alphas' violence."

I swallow hard, resisting the urge to touch my own neck. This is what awaits all of us, sooner or later. The thought of teeth breaking my skin, of being held down and?—

No. I didn't enter this Hunt to become a victim. I came to buy time for Willow and others like her. I came to defy the very system that treats us as breeding stock.

I stand up, shaking off the momentary paralysis. "Is there anything I can do to help while I'm here?"

Marta gives me an appraising look. "You're stronger than most who come through," she observes. "Good. We need people on watch. The barrier keeps alphas out, but they sometimes circle the perimeter. We like to know who's hunting nearby."

I nod, grateful for the task. "I'll take first shift."

"The tall rock at the north edge gives the best view," she says, turning back to her herbs. "And girl? The protection only lasts twelve hours for each omega. It's designed that way—to ensure the Hunt proceeds as the courts intended."

Of course it is. Even our safest refuge is just another part of their game.

From my perch on the tall rock, I have a clear view of the surrounding forest while remaining mostly hidden within the barrier's shimmer. The sun has burned away most of the morning mist, revealing a landscape transformed by the Hunt's magic. The trees seem more alive somehow, their branches reaching toward each other like conspirators sharing secrets.

Movement flickers at the edge of my vision—something large and graceful slipping between distant trees. I tense, but it doesn't approach. Just a scout, perhaps, marking the haven's location for later.

Below me, the haven has settled into a quiet routine. Omegas take turns standing watch, sharing limited supplies, and treating injuries. The herbs and bandages were presumably provided by the courts as minimal humanitarian consideration—just enough care to keep their breeding stock alive and healthy enough to carry fae offspring.

A woman stumbles through the barrier, her naked body a canvas of violence. Bite marks cover her breasts and inner thighs, the impressions of teeth so deep they've left perfect indentations in her flesh. Her throat bears multiple claiming bites, each more savage than the last, as if the alpha kept trying to find the perfect spot to mark her as property. Her legs give out immediately and she collapses, trembling, curling in on herself as if trying to disappear. Three omegas rush to her side, lifting her gently. As they carry her to a pallet near the central fire, her thighs part slightly, and alpha seed gushes from her in alarming quantities—more than enough to breed her.

The thought makes anger flare hot in my chest, a smith's fire burning away fear. We're not animals. We're not vessels. We're people.

Two omegas near the central fire pit are talking in low voices, unaware that their conversation carries to my position.

"...Summer Court has claimed the eastern sectors," one says, a thin woman with nervous hands that never stop moving. "They hunt near the hot springs. The heat makes them stronger. Greta made it there yesterday—they passed her around like a wineskin, each taking turns until she stopped screaming."

"Better than the Autumn Court," replies her companion, shuddering. "They've taken the western ridges. I saw them moving through the canopy like spiders, watching from above. They like to drop down without warning. Elise never even saw the one that took her—one moment walking, the next pinned beneath him, her spine snapped so she couldn't even struggle while he claimed her. I watched him use her broken body for hours. When he finally knotted her, her mouth opened in a silent scream—she couldn't even make a sound anymore. After he finished, he just left her there, still alive but paralyzed. The forest animals found her before another alpha could claim her. Small mercies, I suppose."

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