Page 9 of Redeeming His Omega Mate

And there were the dizzy spells. I’d brushed them off as nothing and convinced myself I didn’t have time to worry about feeling faint when I had so much else to deal with. And then it hit me. My period was late.

My breathing accelerated, and I pressed my trembling fingers to my abdomen. A new kind of warmth spread through me, unfamiliar but unmistakable.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It can’t be.”

But deep down, I knew. All the signs were there, too glaring to ignore.

I was pregnant.

Chapter 4

Tala

The next few days went by in a blur. Each one dragged into the next. Depression wrapped itself around me like an unwelcome friend. I’d spent all the time holed up in my apartment, which had become a prison—safe from the judgmental eyes of the pack—but a cage all the same. Both Betas and Omegas had plenty to say, and none of it was kind. I’d been talked about before, but never like this.

I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, news of Damian’s rejection spread through the pack like wildfire. By the time it reached every corner of the pack, there was no stopping it. My name was on everyone’s lips. Tala: The foolish Omega who dared to think she could ever be loved by an Alpha.

Being the subject of mockery sliced deeper than I wanted to admit. But Damian’s rejection was a wound that carved out a part of me I wasn’t sure I’d ever get back. Each morning, I woke up empty, lost, and unsure of how to go through the day. And at some point, I wondered ifI had any will left to keep living. No matter how hard I tried to stay strong, I kept falling apart.

Even my wolf, the fierce part of me that had always been my strength, felt broken. Since Damian’s rejection, she had gone silent, curled up in the back of my mind like a wounded animal. I could feel her pain, raw and heavy, resonating through me.

When I tried to reach for her and to offer comfort, she pulled away. Her grief ran deep, blending with mine until I couldn’t tell where hers stopped and mine started. I couldn’t distinguish between my wolf’s sorrow and my own anguish.

We were both lost and broken by the same wound.

I barely ate. Sleep became a distant memory. Even when exhaustion dragged me under, my dreams were merciless and filled with vivid images of a war, blood, and bodies scattered around a battlefield. And then there was this strange woman in white. Whenever our eyes connected, I was yanked out of the dream and pulled back into reality. It felt far too confusing and depressing to think about. And when I wasn’t dreaming about that, I was dreaming about Damian’s cold, piercing eyes and the sharp sting of his words slicing me apart.

One evening, as streaks of sundown filtered into my room, I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my reflection in my cracked mirror. My cheeks were hollow, and my eyes were dull and swollen. My hair looked like a tangled mess that hadn’t been washed in days—because, well, it hadn’t. I barely recognized the person looking back at me.

This isn’t you, I thought to myself. You can’t let this destroy you.

But even as I said it, I didn’t know where to begin. How could I fight back when it felt like my own heart had betrayed me? My chest constricted, and my fingers squeezed the fabric of my clothes, desperate to numb the ache. Then, my eyes fell to my stomach.

From the moment I’d learned I was pregnant, I’d tried my best not to think about the fact that a baby was growing inside of me and definitely not about who the father was—the man who had ripped my heart out from my chest with his bare hands. I didn’t let myself think about it because the baby had become a cruel reminder of how foolish I’d been and the price of dreaming of a life I could never have. Every flutter in my belly and every beat of its tiny heart mocked me.

As I sat in front of the mirror, staring at my hollow reflection, something shifted. My hands moved lower, my fingers pressing against my stomach. Tears stung my eyes again, but not of despair this time. For so long, I had let my pain and shame define the child inside me. But then, I felt it, the steady, rhythmic thump of the baby’s heartbeat, clear and strong. It was as if the world stood still for a moment. And then, my wolf, who had been silent for so long, stirred within me, her senses awakening as she, too, heard the heartbeat.

That sound, the beat of new life, filled me with something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope.

The baby shouldn’t be a reminder of my mistakes. It should be my redemption, my second chance.

I didn’t just owe the child survival. I owed them a life worth living—a life where they would never feel less than or unwanted. And in that moment, I made a promise: I would give them that life no matter what it took.

For the first time in days, a small spark flickered inside me, a spark of purpose. So that night, while the pack slept, I packed a duffel bag with clothes and a few essentials. Then, I slipped away from Stonehart. Staying there wasn’t an option. As long as I remained, I would always be Tala, the foolish Omega rejected by the Alpha. And my child? She would live under that same shadow, judged and cast aside for something that wasn’t her fault.

The plan was simple: find a town far from the pack, somewhere no one knew me, and start fresh. So, as I made my way through the eerie quiet of the forest, that goal pushed me forward despite the sharp ache I was feeling all over my body.

I walked for hours, stopping only briefly to rest. During one of my short breaks, I sank to the ground, leaning my back and head against a tree. I closed my eyes for a moment, hoping to catch a little sleep, but then I heard it. The unmistakable snap of a branch. My eyes flew open instantly, my senses on high alert. Pregnancy had sharpened them—my sense of smell, my vision. So, when an unfamiliar scent drifted toward me, I knew immediately I wasn’t alone. Whoever was out there had done a good job of staying hidden, blending with the trees and bushes, because I could barely make out a figure.

I rose slowly to my feet. My first thought was to run, but I knew better. Running would make too much noise, mark me as prey, and give whoever—or whatever—was out there an advantage. They’d track my every movement. The smarter choice was to remain calm and assess the situation. I crouched low, blending with the under bushes, forcing myself to steady my breathing, despite the thud of my heart within my chest, to focus on every movement around me. My ears picked up the faintest rustle of leaves to my right, and my nose caught a new, unfamiliar scent in the air.

Another rustle to my right. Another scent.

There wasn’t one, there were two.

The snap of another branch, this time closer, sent a chill down my spine. I strained my eyes, scanning the shadows between the trees. Then I caught it—the flash of a figure slipping between trees barely visible but there. The air was charged with danger, and the loud rustle of leaves made my heart race. They didn’t try to hide their presence anymore. They wanted me to know they were here. A branch snapped and fell from a tree, drawing my eyes upward. That’s when I saw it, a feral figure, massive, cloaked in wild fur as black as midnight. Its eyes gleamed red, glowing with an eerie intensity as it stared down at me, menacing.

Okay, maybe it was time to run.

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