Page 120 of Run Little Omega

Briar looks up as I enter, one hand resting protectively on her already more swollen abdomen. Her copper hair shines with silver streaks in the blue-green light of the cavern fungi, and the magical patterns across her skin pulse with renewed strength. Despite everything between us—the betrayal, the hurt, the broken trust—something in me aches with fierce need to protect her and the impossible lives growing within her.

"You were gone a long time," she says, her tone carefully neutral.

"Hunting took longer than expected," I reply, setting down the meat and medicines. "But I found what we needed."

Her gaze sharpens as she notices the medical supplies. "Those are court-made. Where did you get them?"

For a moment, I consider lying to protect her from additional stress. But I've caused enough harm through silence and distance. "Winter Court physician," I say simply. "He won't be a problem anymore."

Understanding darkens her eyes. "They know about the pregnancy."

"Yes."

"And they sent someone to..." She doesn't finish the sentence, her hand tightening protectively over her abdomen.

"They tried," I acknowledge. "They failed. They will continue to fail."

She studies me with those amber eyes now flecked with ice-blue, seeing more than I intend to reveal. "You've crossed a line you can't uncross."

It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "I crossed it the moment I claimed you in the forest. Everything since has merely been consequence."

The Hound stirs from where he's been keeping watch. "We should move deeper," he says, gesturing toward the tunnel that leads toward the nexus. "Court forces will be searching more aggressively now."

Briar struggles to rise, her center of balance already shifting with the rapidly advancing pregnancy. I move to help her, then stop myself, respecting the boundaries she's established.

To my surprise, she reaches for my arm, accepting the assistance while maintaining emotional distance. "I haven't forgiven you," she says quietly, for my ears alone. "I don't know if I can."

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," I reply, supporting her weight as she stands. "Only the chance to protect what we've created."

Something flickers in her expression—not softening, exactly, but recognition of the truth in my words. She nods once, sharply, and we turn toward the deeper tunnels, leaving behind the last vestiges of the life I once knew.

The Winter Prince is dead. What I am becoming—what we are becoming together—remains to be seen.

CHAPTER43

POV: Briar

I'm waitingwhen Cadeyrn returns to our underground shelter, my mind made up.

"I want to go back to the burial grounds," I announce without preamble. "The Vale of Culling. I need to see all of it this time."

He freezes mid-step, water sloshing in the crude wooden bowl he carries. "You want to what?"

"You heard me." I shift uncomfortably on the stone ledge where I've been resting. My belly protrudes noticeably now, looking like I'm three months pregnant though it's been only days since we discovered the quadruplets. Four babies where most omegas struggle to carry even one fae child. "You only showed me a small part before. I need to see everything."

"Briar." My name comes out half-sigh, half-warning. "The courts are hunting us. That place will be crawling with guards now."

I struggle to my feet, one hand bracing my lower back. Though not enormous yet, the weight is already redistributing itself strangely, making balance a constant negotiation. The babies shift inside me, tiny flutters that still surprise me every time.

"You showed me only a fraction of it before—just enough for me to understand what had been happening." I meet his gaze squarely. "I need to see the full extent. I need to know exactly what you were part of."

Something flashes across his face—pain, guilt, perhaps even fear. Not of the courts that now hunt us, but of what I might find. What I might never forgive.

"It's not safe," he says, setting down the water. "For you or the children."

I place both hands on my swollen abdomen, feeling the quadruplets respond with tiny pulses of frost beneath my palms. "These children exist because of what happened there. Because their father authorized atrocities without ever bothering to witness them." My voice remains steady, though the words cut like ice shards. "They deserve better than hidden truths."

The Hound appears silently at the tunnel entrance, his mismatched eyes watching our exchange with ancient understanding. "The omega is right," he says quietly. "Some wounds cannot heal without being fully exposed."

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