Page 74 of Run Little Omega

When he’s done, Cadeyrn turns toward my hiding place. Though I'm certain he can't see me from this distance, he speaks directly to me.

"I know you're watching," he calls, voice carrying effortlessly across the space. "I feel you through our bond."

I remain motionless, heart pounding against my ribs.

"I won't come for you now," he continues. "There are preparations necessary before moonrise. But tonight, when the crimson moon reaches zenith, I will find you." The promise in his tone sends unbidden heat down my spine. "And we will continue what we've begun."

With that, he disappears into the forest, leaving me alone with Ember Farren's cooling body and the realization that Cadeyrn isn't merely a rutting alpha.

He’s waging a war for our survival against court alliances I barely comprehend. Whatever is developing between us—whatever Wild Magic awakens through our claiming—carries implications beyond the Hunt itself.

And tonight, when the crimson moon rises, we'll confront each other again.

Part of me dreads it.

Most of me burns for it.

CHAPTER27

POV: Briar

Seven days left.Two-thirds of the Hunt now behind us.

I stand knee-deep in a cool stream, watching my reflection fracture and reform on the water's surface. The woman staring back barely resembles the one who entered this forest. My copper hair now threads with silver strands that catch the morning light. My amber eyes hold flecks of ice-blue that weren't present when the Hunt began.

"What's happening to me?" I whisper to the wilderness.

No answer comes, but silver leaves rustle around me. Blackthorn trees shift subtly, trunks bending to create dappled light across my skin. The forest speaks a language I'm only beginning to understand.

I cup water in my palms, washing away the night's grime. The cool liquid soothes my fevered skin, offering momentary relief from the persistent heat that's become my constant companion. As I straighten, something unexpected occurs—frost spreads from my fingertips across the water's surface, delicate crystals forming and dissolving in the same breath.

This is new. The cillae Cadeyrn placed on my skin have been expanding, now covering most of my left side from shoulder to hip, but this marks the first time the magic has extended beyond my body.

Cautiously, I press my palm against a nearby stone. Frost blooms beneath my touch, spreading in feathery whorls before fading. Not Cadeyrn's power working through our bond, but something distinctly mine—subtler, less intense, but unmistakably magic.

Movement in the undergrowth draws my attention. I reach for Lira's bone knife, but instead of a threat, a young fox emerges between the trees. Its russet coat gleams in the dappled light, eyes fixed on me with unnatural intelligence. Rather than fleeing, it approaches, sniffing curiously at my outstretched hand.

"Hello there," I murmur, surprised by its boldness. "Shouldn't you be avoiding predators like me?"

The fox tilts its head, then deliberately presses its muzzle against my palm. The contact sends a ripple of awareness through me—not words exactly, but impressions:curiosity/safety/recognition.

Before I can process this connection, the fox's ears prick up. It turns sharply towards the eastern treeline, hackles rising in warning before darting away, disappearing as silently as it appeared.

I'm immediately alert, gathering my meager supplies and moving into deeper cover. Something approaches—something that frightens even the forest animals.

The air shifts first, unnatural warmth cutting through the morning cool, carrying the scent of summer spices and male musk. Not one alpha, but several, their combined pheromones setting my teeth on edge.

Summer Court alphas. Multiple. Hunting together.

This violates Hunt tradition. Alphas might converge accidentally on the same omega, might even battle for claiming rights, but they never hunt together. Something about this feels… targeted.

I run through options quickly. The stream leaves me exposed, but higher ground would offer visibility. I choose the ridge rising to my right, scaling its rocky face with the blacksmith's strength my body no longer conceals.

From my defensible position—a narrow ledge backed by stone that prevents approach from behind—I observe them. Three Summer Court alphas move through the forest with synchronized precision of predators who've hunted together before.

At their center walks a massive alpha whose bronzed skin bears ritualistic scarring—one mark for each omega successfully bred across dozens of Hunts. Lord Klairs Thorn, whose eviscerated body Cadeyrn arranged as territorial display days ago. Apparently, death proved temporary. Resurrection magic must have been employed at significant court expense, suggesting his value to Summer Court exceeds normal limits.

The two flanking him appear younger but equally dangerous—lean muscle beneath skin that radiates visible heat, dark hair falling to their shoulders in identical braids interwoven with small trophies. Brothers, perhaps, or court-bred companions designed to complement their lord's hunting style.

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