Page 10 of Run Little Omega

Thaddeus sighs, his expression softening as he puts an arm around my shoulders. "You shouldn't be gathering herbs alone, especially at night. Your strength is precious now. We need to save it for the journey."

The irony is almost too much. I let him guide me from the clearing, making my steps hesitant to match Willow's typical walk. We move in silence through the sleeping village, his arm supporting me gently. The guilt of deceiving him fights with my determination to save his daughter.

Halfway to the Ambrose cottage, I risk a whisper, making my voice high and soft like Willow's gentle tones. "I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep."

"Nerves are natural," he responds, patting my hand. "Your mother was the same before her wedding day—restless, wandering. Some transitions need their own rituals of preparation."

Comparing the Hunt to a wedding hits me like a physical blow. As if Willow were just a bride looking forward to her wedding night rather than a sacrifice being delivered to slaughter. The border villages have created such pretty words for what happens in the Bloodmoon Forest, softening the brutal reality of rape, torture, and death with ceremonial language.

We reach the Ambrose cottage, its windows dark except for a single candle burning in Willow's room. Thaddeus pauses at the door, studying my face with unexpected intensity.

"You look different tonight," he says slowly. "Something about your eyes..."

My pulse quickens. Has the glamour failed already? I bow my head, avoiding his gaze. "Just tired, Father."

The familiar address seems to satisfy him. He nods, opening the door and ushering me inside. "Go rest. It’ll be morning before you know it, and we have preparations to finish before the journey."

I move toward Willow's room, panic rising as I realize the corner I've backed myself into. If I enter, I'll find the real Willow asleep in her bed. Even Thaddeus will see through me.

"Actually," I whisper, turning back, "I think I'll make some tea first. To help me sleep."

Thaddeus nods absently, already moving toward his own room. "Don't stay up too late. Your strength?—"

"—is precious now. I know." I finish his often-repeated phrase with a smile that feels strange on my borrowed face.

When his door closes, I exhale silently, counting heartbeats until I'm sure he won't come out again. Then, moving with the stealth I've practiced for weeks in preparation for this moment, I slip back out the front door and into the darkness.

The village sleeps around me, unaware of my plans. Tomorrow is the final day before the Wild Hunt begins, when Willow will travel to the Gathering Circle—a journey that will now be mine instead. I have to return to the forge and prepare for what comes next: taking Willow's place before anyone realizes the switch.

The glamour tingles against my skin as I navigate familiar paths through the night. My reflection in puddles and windows startles me each time—Willow's face staring back at me. The spell tightens with each minute that passes, settling into my flesh like a second skin.

Twenty-one days, the grimoire promised. The exact duration of the Hunt. The exact length of an omega's heat cycle during the crimson moon. Another of those coincidences that feels too neat to be accidental, as though the spell were made specifically for my purpose.

Back at the forge, I slip inside quietly, careful not to wake Fergus. The iron tokens I've stolen from his hidden cache rest beneath my sleeping mat, along with the forest maps and small weapons I've been secretly making for weeks. By dawn, I’ll have them hidden on me, ready for the trip to the Gathering Circle.

I catch my reflection in the polished shield hanging on the workshop wall—Willow's face staring back with an expression she would never wear, determination hardening features meant for gentleness. The contrast feels almost wrong, like watching a saint pick up a war hammer.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her image, knowing the real Willow sleeps unaware across the village. "But I won’t just watch you die without a fight."

The reflection, of course, doesn’t answer. It’s a perfect deception: my best friend’s gentleness covering my strength and anger. The fae alphas of the Hunt expect terrified omegas fleeing in blind panic. They've never pursued prey that fights back.

Tomorrow, when the selection party leaves for the Gathering Circle, I’ll walk in Willow's place, wearing her face but bringing my own fury to the Bloodmoon Forest. The glamour is just the beginning—the first move in a game I intend to change forever.

I only hope I'm ready. Because once I step into the stone circle and accept the silver tracking bracelet that binds all Hunt participants, there will be no turning back.

The Hunt will come for the omega who smells of forge fire and iron beneath a dying girl's face.

And unlike the omegas who came before me, I plan to hunt back.

CHAPTER5

POV: Briar

Dawn breaksover Thornwick in layers—first the hushed blue-gray that softens the buildings, then the pale gold that lights up the morning mist rising from the river. A beautiful day for a terrible purpose.

I sit at Willow's dressing table while Thaddeus fusses around me, his hands shaking as he arranges the ceremonial white cloak on my shoulders. The damn thing feels heavier than it should be, weighted down with all its symbolism. My reflection shows Willow's face, pale and calm beneath a crown of white snowdrops—flowers that die early, just like the omegas they're pinning them on.

"You've barely touched your breakfast," Thaddeus says, his voice catching. "You should eat something before the journey."

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