Page 103 of Run Little Omega

"Dormant patterns," Prynn observes, now close enough that I can see the golden flecks in his amber eyes. "The connection stretches, weakens."

"The courts have ruled," Blaim adds, circling to flank me while his brother approaches directly. "An omega who rejects her alpha's protection returns to the Hunt pool."

My back hits a tree, rough bark scraping through my torn clothing. The brothers have maneuvered me exactly where they want—pinned between them with nowhere to run.

"The courts don't rule me," I spit, fists clenching at my sides as frost gathers around my fingertips. "And neither do you."

"Such defiance," Prynn purrs, close enough now that his autumn scent—fallen leaves, woodsmoke, spiced wine—floods my senses. "The claiming's fire hasn't broken you yet."

"A challenge," Blaim agrees, moving in from my left, effectively trapping me between them. "Synchronized claiming should solve that problem."

The memory of what they did to Lira flashes through my mind—passing her between them, tearing her from one to the other like she was nothing but a vessel for their pleasure. The horror of it must show on my face, because both brothers smile with identical anticipation.

"She remembers our performance," Prynn notes, pleased. "Did you enjoy the show, copper-beauty?"

"Learned what to expect?" Blaim adds, close enough now that his breath warms my cheek.

"I learned what I'll never allow," I growl, gathering frost into my palm. Wild Magic responds to my fear and rage, ice forming without conscious direction but from pure instinctive need.

The brothers notice too late. With blacksmith's strength and desperate fear, I drive an ice blade directly into Prynn's chest, aiming for where I think his heart must be. His eyes widen with genuine shock as frost spreads from the wound, crystallizing his blood as it tries to escape.

"Brother!" Blaim's cry contains centuries of connection suddenly, violently severed.

Prynn staggers back, looking down at the ice protruding from his chest with something like wonder. "She... cut through... our connection," he gasps, blood freezing on his lips as he speaks.

I don't wait to see more. With Prynn incapacitated, I lunge past him toward the stream, hoping to put water between myself and the remaining brother. I make it three steps before pain explodes across my back—Blaim's claws tearing through fabric and skin in a single savage swipe.

The attack sends me sprawling into the icy stream, water turning pink with my blood. I roll, gasping at the twin shocks of cold and pain, to see Blaim transformed by grief and rage. The beautiful fae alpha is gone, replaced by something feral and monstrous—skin darkening to deep russet, amber eyes now glowing like hot coals, teeth elongating into points designed for tearing flesh.

"You killed him," he snarls, voice no longer musical but guttural and raw. "Severed a bond three centuries in making."

Behind him, Prynn collapses to his knees, ice spreading from the wound in beautiful, terrible formations across his chest. His eyes remain locked with his brother's, some silent communication passing between them even as death claims him.

"You will take his place," Blaim promises, advancing into the stream after me. "Your womb will carry what was meant to be his legacy."

I scramble backward, water soaking my clothing as I try to find my footing on slippery stones. The pain across my back makes movement agony, warm blood mixing with cold water down my spine. This is nothing like facing Cadeyrn in the early days of our confrontation. There's no calculation here, no strategic threat assessment—just pure, animalistic rage directed at the creature who killed his other half.

"The Wild Magic protects me," I say, though I have no idea if that's true. The cillae across my skin pulse weaker now, my power depleted by the desperate attack that felled Prynn.

"Wild Magic is court magic's bastard offspring," Blaim spits, closing the distance between us with unnatural speed. "Undisciplined. Unreliable. It will abandon you when you need it most."

His hand closes around my throat, claws pricking the delicate skin beneath my jaw as he lifts me from the stream. Water cascades from my clothing as my feet leave the ground, air cut off by his crushing grip.

"I will claim you in the water," he hisses, face inches from mine as I struggle for breath. "Where my brother's blood mixes with yours. The symbolism will please the Autumn Court."

Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as oxygen deprivation sets in. The claiming bond flares with distant concern—Cadeyrn sensing my peril but too far away to help. I kick uselessly, my strength fading as Blaim's grip tightens.

This is it, then. After everything—stealing Willow's place, surviving Cadeyrn's claiming, learning the truth about the cullings, fleeing the central haven—I'll die here in a shallow stream at the hands of a grief-maddened alpha.

No.

Something breaks open inside me, a reservoir of magic I didn't know I possessed. Not the controlled frost abilities Cadeyrn has been teaching me, but something wilder, more primal. The forest around us responds immediately—water surging in the stream, silver leaves rustling with sudden wind, the very earth trembling beneath our feet.

Blaim's grip loosens slightly as he senses the change, amber eyes widening with belated understanding. "You're not just claimed by a royal alpha,” he breathes, the realization dawning too late. "Your bloodline has awakened."

"I don't know what that means," I rasp, frost gathering around my hands despite my depleted strength. "But I know you won't claim me."

The magic builds between us, no longer just frost but something more fundamental—the Wild Magic responding not to technique or training but to desperate need. Ice crystals form in the air itself, suspended like tiny daggers around us.

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