Page 102 of Run Little Omega

I need to decide my next steps. Returning to the central haven means confronting Cadeyrn again, something I'm not prepared to do. Continuing alone through the Bloodmoon Forest carries its own dangers, despite the unexpected protection the woods seem willing to provide.

My hand falls to my stomach, a gesture that has become unconscious since learning the truth about the cullings. If I'm pregnant with Cadeyrn's child—a strong possibility given how often he's claimed me—what future awaits us? Would the Winter Court deem our offspring acceptable, or would they become just another unmarked grave in the Vale?

The thought hardens something inside me. Whatever path I choose, it cannot include returning to court structures that murder children for unpredictable magic. The bond between Cadeyrn and me has awakened Wild Magic precisely because it falls outside court control—a connection neither sanctioned nor fully understood by those who divided power for centuries.

"I won't let them have my child," I promise the silent forest. "I won't let them decide who lives based on court protocols."

The fox yips again, more insistently, then disappears into the undergrowth with a flick of its russet tail. A moment later, I understand its warning—a sound reaches me, too deliberate to be natural forest movement. Someone approaches my shelter, moving with the confidence of a predator who believes its prey unaware.

I press deeper into the hollow, frost gathering at my fingertips as I prepare to defend myself. The central haven's protection no longer surrounds me. Whatever comes through those trees, I face it alone.

Except I'm not entirely alone. The forest stirs around me, branches shifting to better conceal my position. Roots creep imperceptibly across the floor, creating subtle traps for unwary feet. Even morning light seems to dim, shadows deepening to hide my shelter from searching eyes.

Wild Magic recognizes me as its vessel, offering protection I never thought to ask for but desperately need.

I steady my breathing, gathering power into my hands while listening intently to approaching footsteps. Not Cadeyrn—our bond would flare with proximity. Someone else stalks these woods, seeking what doesn't belong to them.

The cillae across my skin pulse with renewed determination. I may be alone in the wild, rejected by the alpha whose claim should protect me, but I am far from defenseless.

The Wild Magic flows through me now, answering to no court and no alpha. Only to itself—and to me.

CHAPTER36

POV: Briar

Dawn breaks differentlyin this part of the forest. The light filters through silver leaves in fractured patterns, casting everything in a ghostly glow that makes the world seem half-real. My stomach growls, reminding me that I've eaten nothing since fleeing the central haven yesterday. Emotions might drive us, but bodies have more practical demands.

I follow the sound of running water through a stand of twisted blackthorns, their bark seeping red sap that gleams wetly in the morning light. The claiming bond stretches inside me like an overtaxed muscle—a constant, hollow ache that pulses with each heartbeat. Cadeyrn hasn't followed, respecting my need for distance, but the connection between us remains—damaged but unbroken.

The stream appears between the trees, clear water flowing over smooth stones. Watercress grows along its edges, and I spot clusters of blood berries hanging from nearby branches. Nothing to make a feast, but enough to quiet the gnawing emptiness.

As I kneel beside the water, frost spirals from my fingertips across the surface, creating delicate patterns I didn't consciously form. My magic responds differently now, flowing from emotion rather than calculation. Wild rather than controlled—like a storm that obeys its own nature.

"Look what we found, brother," a voice like autumn leaves crushed underfoot breaks the silence. "A winter flower blooming out of season."

I freeze, not from magic but from bone-deep recognition. I know that voice. Those voices.

The Raveling Brothers emerge from the trees on the opposite bank, moving with identical grace that makes it difficult to track them as separate entities. Their russet hair falls to their waists, skin bearing the subtle patterns of fallen leaves that shift with each breath. Both are shirtless, displaying the ritual scarring on their forearms that distinguishes them—Prynn with vertical marks, Blaim with horizontal.

"Lost your Winter Prince?" Blaim asks, amber eyes developing vein-like patterns that spread across his face like cracks in thin ice. "Or did he abandon you after discovering your deception?"

I rise slowly, careful not to make sudden movements. The brothers are known for hunting as a unit, their coordination making them more dangerous than individual alphas of greater strength.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, though my racing heart betrays the lie.

"The courts know everything, copper-beauty," Prynn responds, inhaling deeply as if savoring my scent. "How you stole another's place in the Hunt. How you've activated Wild Magic that hasn't flowed freely for centuries."

They begin crossing the stream, perfectly synchronized steps placing them on identical stones as they approach. The water doesn't splash around them but parts, as if the stream itself acknowledges their power.

"We sensed your bond stretching thin," Blaim continues, his voice eerily merging with his brother's at certain syllables. "The Winter Prince has released his exclusive claim."

"He has not," I counter, backing toward the denser forest behind me.

Both brothers laugh, the sound musical and terrifying. "Then where is he?" they ask in perfect unison. "When an unclaimed omega in heat stands before us?"

I need to run. The rational part of my brain screams this obvious fact, but my body seems rooted to the earth. Fear, yes, but something else too—a strangely calm certainty that running would only delay the inevitable. These brothers have hunted together for three centuries. No omega outruns them once they've locked onto a scent.

"I'm claimed," I insist, displaying the cillae crawling across my skin. "These marks protect me."

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