Page 5 of Storms of His Wrath

"This isn't your responsibility, Oppo?—"

"It's all of our responsibility." Oppo's tone sharpened. "She is an Omega. We shouldallbe ensuring her well-being. If she needs healing when you find her, what do you plan to do?"

The question gave him pause. As much as he hated admitting it, Oppo understood Omegas in ways he never would. Right now, Naya's safety mattered more than his possessive instincts.

“Fine,” he uttered, turning back to hisnnirae.

By the time Prillu arrived, a small troop of his army stood assembled and ready. The diplomat's movements carried rigid unease as she approached, her professional mask barely concealing apprehension.

"My king. Before we depart, we should discuss how to approach?—"

"No. We leave now." Akoro swung himself onto hisnniraewith fluid grace. "I won't delay our departure with needless planning."

"Charging into Otenyo's district with armed warriors will be seen as direct provocation," Prillu warned. "The alliance between districts is already fragile after the presence ofnnin-eellithiin the city. Otenyo’s district won’t survive your force, and the storm it will cause will spread beyond Ntorkkan.”

“Then let it,” Akoro said, the words a blade.

Prillu’s posture shifted, shoulders drawing tight. “That’s not a king speaking, that’s an Alpha with a wound.”

Fury surged, hot and immediate, but Akoro held it. He glared at her—tense and silent. The old Prillu would have said something like this. He used to welcome it, because she never lied to him.

And she wasn’t lying now.

Yes, he wanted blood. That part was simple. But there was another part of him that was quieter, colder. A part of him that had learned patience, the same part that had patiently planned the Lox invasion over years.

His jaw clenched, but the fury didn’t leave him. It just changed shape—folded inward, sharp and waiting “We’ll strategize as we ride.” Prillu nodded, and they moved to their mounts and prepared to leave.

He led the procession from the palace grounds, the thunderous rhythm ofnniraefeet matching the furious beating of his heart. Oppo rode beside him, keeping pace effortlessly despite the punishing speed Akoro set.

"Starting a war with Otenyo is worth it if they've taken Naya," Oppo said, his voice low, “but you must be sure before you act."

Akoro didn’t answer. If she had been taken by Otenyo, he’d make sure there was nothing left of Ntorkkan to remember.

His jaw locked as they rode through the city. Streets blurred past, citizens pressing against walls, ducking into doorways, eyes wide with alarm. Their faces reflected the same expressions he'd witnessed during his father's reign—the terror of their ruler's unpredictable wrath. He'd sworn never to make them look that way under his rule. And yet here he rode, armor gleaming, dragging a troop across the desert. He would tear down the fragile peace between districts, risk civil war, all because one Omega had vanished.

No.

Not one Omega.Her.

Copper hair. Defiant eyes. A body that yielded beneath his hands. The silence she'd left behind was vast, gnawing, and unbearable. The only woman who had ever made him hesitate.

He'd promised his people stability. Security. A future free from the tyranny that had marked the Sy Dynasty for generations. He'd killed his own father to give them that promise.

Now he would break it without hesitation.

A thread of unease wound through his certainty as they journeyed across the Sands, heat shimmering around them in waves. For the first time, doubt about his suitability to rule twisted in his gut like a blade. He gritted his teeth, pushing the thought aside. He would find her, then he would figure out what kind of king he had become.

The scorching sun beat down as they travelled the golden dunes, leaving Onn Kkulma behind. Akoro rode ahead, needing distance, silence. Behind him, voices murmured—Oppo, Prillu, and Nrommo discussing the coming confrontation in low, urgent tones.

Let them plan. Let them worry about diplomacy and consequences. His mind fixed on one thing only: finding Naya.

They were halfway to Otenyo's district when scorching heat suddenly blazed at his hip. The sensation grew rapidly, from warmth to searing pain radiating through the leather where his ceremonial dagger rested in its sheath.

Confusion creasing his brow, Akoro slowed hisnnirae. He reached down, unsheathed the blade—the same weapon he'd used to mark Naya's face, to bind her to him—and shock stole his breath. His dagger glowed red-hot, steam rising from the metal as it met the desert air. Heat waves distorted the space around it, the blade pulsing with unnatural fire.

Akoro pulled his mount to a complete stop, staring at the weapon in disbelief. His heart hammered against his ribs. This heat wasn't random. It meant one thing. Thennol ttaehh maelhad been removed, and not by him. Someone had taken what he’d marked—what was his—and undone it.

A dark, unfamiliar chill rolled through his chest accompanied by relief. Someone out there knew the Dynasty’s deepest magic. But they had healed his Omega. He watched the glow fade from his knife, the metal cooling until it appeared normal once again.

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