Zaria.

They called me cursed before I even had teeth.

Before blood stained my thighs, before fur ever broke my skin, whispers painted my name in ash and venom. I didn’t cry when I was born. I opened my eyes. Silent. Watching. Breathing in the world like a predator, not prey. Even then, the elders said my scent was wrong. Too rich. Too sharp. Too tempting. My mother wept the day the midwife recoiled from me. She knew.

Omegas are supposed to be soft.

Docile. Fragile. Anchored by a mate’s knot, ruled by a pack’s leash.

But I have no mate. No Alpha. No leash.

I was born an Omega, but the moment the world turned its back on me, I became something else entirely.

And I never turned back.

The moon was a silver whore bleeding light over the forest.

Every shadow pulsed with sound: the crack of twigs under paws, the hiss of cold wind through pine, the quick heartbeat of prey and predator alike. Barefoot, skirts shredded, I slipped through the undergrowth like a ghost. Blood streaked my thighs— not mine. A warning.

Behind me, they hunted.

Five Alphas. Big. Ruthless. Feral. Arrogant enough to think I’d kneel because their cocks got hard at my scent. The cursed one, they whispered. The heatless one. The mate-less one.

“Zaria…” one of them crooned, low and sing-song, fake sugar before the fangs. “Little Omega. Come out and play…”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t run.

I crouched behind a tree, breath slow, pulse steady, the forest drinking in my scent— molten sugar and violence. That was the thing about me: my scent didn’t just lure; it ruined. It made them lose control. That’s why they wanted to own me. Trap me. Breed me.

But I wasn’t made to be bred.

I was made to burn.

A twig cracked to my left. A Beta scout. They always sent the Beta first— easy to lose, easier to replace. He stepped into view, steel glinting in his hand, a smug grin cutting his face.

He never saw my blade coming.

A whisper through the ribs. A flick under the chin. Hot blood sprayed the night like perfume. He dropped without a sound. I crouched over him, fingers slick, eyes locked on the trees beyond.

They’d smell his death.

They’d come harder now.

Good.

I wanted them to.

They found me at the river, of course.

I stood waist-deep in the black current, moonlight painting my skin silver, hair slick against my back. My scent—warped by blood, wet skin, defiance—curled like smoke over the water.

Darius stepped out first. Broad. Brutal. Smirking like a man who thinks he’s already won.

“You killed my Beta,” he said lazily, like we were discussing tea blends.

“I gave him mercy,” I murmured. “More than he deserved.”

The others fanned out behind him, eyes glowing, teeth bared. They wanted to drag me down, knot me, mark me, break me until I whimpered for relief.

I let them come closer.

Let them think they had a chance.

“Don’t you want protection?” Darius coaxed, voice dripping with that sickly-sweet Alpha charm. “A pack? A home? Heat relief? You’re not built to be alone, Zaria.”

I tilted my head.

“You’re right,” I whispered. “I’m not built to be alone…”

He smiled, thinking he’d won.

“…I chose to be.”

Then I moved.

A blur of silver. The river roared as I slammed into him, blade at his throat before he could shift. He roared. The others snarled, but hesitated—because even bleeding and half-naked, I reeked of danger. Of lust. Of something too wild to tame.

He grabbed my hair. I smiled in his face.

“Go ahead,” I whispered against his lips. “Try to knot me. I dare you.”

He froze.

Because I didn’t smell scared.

I smelled hungry.

The fight was chaos—fangs, claws, heat, pain.

I didn’t win by strength. I didn’t need to.

I danced.

I seduced.

I bled them dry.

When it was over, the river was red.

Darius lay sprawled at my feet, shifting back into human skin, gasping like a man who’s just been reborn and realized God is a woman with a knife.

I stepped over him, chest heaving.

“Tell the others,” I said. “Tell them the Omega with no mate is done hiding.”

He didn’t move.

I leaned down, lips at his ear.

“I’ll build a pack out of wolves like me. Broken. Unbonded. Unclaimed. And when I do…”

I kissed his blood-slick cheek.

“…you’ll beg to belong to it.”

Then I walked away. Naked. Unmarked. Unashamed.

And behind me, the forest didn’t whisper my name.

It screamed it.

~ZARIA~

The blood hadn't dried on my skin yet.

I could still feel the weight of Darius's eyes on my back, even as I disappeared into the trees. His breath had smelled like copper and arrogance. His touch had been desperate. And that look in his eyes when I walked away?

That wasn’t fear.

It was hunger.

Let them starve.

I didn’t have a destination. Only a pulse. A rhythm. A calling in my bones that told me I wasn’t meant to kneel in any man’s den. The wind tugged at my torn dress, whispering secrets through the branches. The moon was still watching, higher now, like it wanted to see what I’d become next.

A howl echoed behind me.

Darius.

He’d shifted. Calling the others. Rallying them like I was some escaped pup instead of the storm that just ripped their Beta’s throat open.

Fools.

They think this was over?

I wasn’t running. I was hunting.

My old den reeked of silence.

Abandoned long ago burned, rebuilt, and burned again. The stone walls were cracked. The floor was covered in soot and ash. My scent had faded, but not enough. Any wolf who knew me could tell I’d once curled up here like some stupid little girl waiting for her mate to show up.

I stepped into the hollow, inhaled, and spat.

I wasn't that girl anymore.

The silence here wasn’t peace. It was betrayal. It was the sound of packmates who’d looked away while they tore the collar off my neck and tossed me into the cold. My so-called sisters had giggled behind palms, whispering things like “What if she never goes into heat?” and “Maybe she’s not even Omega.”

But I went into heat.

Oh, I went into blistering, sickening, savage heat.

And the Alphas who’d tried to answer it? They didn’t survive the burn.

Not all fires are for warmth. Some are just made to consume.

I walked to the old hearth, fingers brushing a jagged scratch in the stone. I remembered this mark clawed there by me, the night I realized I’d never be claimed. The night I stopped waiting.

I was about to walk away when I heard it.

A low growl.

Deep. Male. Hungry.

I turned slowly, blade already in my hand.

And there he stood.

Levi.

The rogue.

The Beta.

Not part of any pack. Not bound by rules. Not held by heat. Just wild. Dangerous. Dripping chaos.

He leaned in the doorway like he belonged there. Shirt open. Chest heaving. Boots bloodied. That smirk?

Sin incarnate.

“You’re a hard b*tch to track, Zaria.”

I didn’t move. “Try harder.”

He laughed. Gods, that sound. It rolled through the room like smoke.

“You cut down Darius's Beta like he was wet tissue.”

“I gave him the death he deserved.”

Levi stepped forward, boot pressing into scorched dirt. “And what about Darius? Did he deserve to live?”

“I let him.”

“That’s not like you.”

“I’m evolving.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head. “Or playing with your food.”

His gaze dipped. Not subtle. Not ashamed. My dress was still torn, stained with blood and wetness. His eyes tracked my thighs, my hips, the sharp curve of my blade.

“You planning to use that on me, too?” he asked, voice low.

“Depends,” I said, stepping into the moonlight slanting through the cracks. “You planning to use your mouth on me first?”

That got him.

For a breath, everything stopped. The world held its breath. Even the d*mn wolves in the woods went silent.

Then he moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

I was slammed against the stone wall before I could blink, steel and heat coiling around me. His forearm was braced by my neck not choking, but close. His scent was wild berries and thunder. His lips were an inch from mine.

“You’re poison,” he growled.

“You’re addicted.”

His free hand gripped my waist, pulled me against the hard ridge of him. I could feel it throbbing, thick, ready. And yet…

He didn’t move.

Didn’t f*ck.

Didn’t kiss.

He just stared at me like I was a d*mn miracle he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“You’re not in heat,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Then what is this?”

I dragged my hand down his chest, slow, teasing. “This is want, Levi. No bond. No heat. Just raw f*ck*ng need.”

His breath hitched. “You’d let a rogue touch you like this?”

“I’d let a goddamn ghost touch me like this if it meant I stayed free.”

And that did it.

His mouth crushed into mine hot, furious, filthy. Not soft. Not sweet. Just teeth and tongue and heat. His hands gripped my thighs, lifted me, slammed me against the stone. I wrapped my legs around his waist, grinding into him like I was starving.

Maybe I was.

Starving for something real. Starving to remind the world I didn’t need a f*ck*ng mate to feel alive.

Levi kissed like he was trying to brand me.

I bit his lip until he bled.

He groaned. “F*ck, I forgot how insane you are.”

I licked the blood from his mouth. “You love it.”

His hands slid down my *ss, gripping tight. My dress was hiked to my hips now, but he didn’t shove inside me. He just held me there, forehead to forehead, sweat glistening on both of us.

“What are you doing, Zaria?” he asked, voice ragged.

I smiled.

“Starting a war.”

When he left, I didn’t ask him to stay.

I lay back in the soot of my old den, arms folded behind my head, chest rising slow.

The fire between my thighs still burned.

But I’d gotten what I needed.

Not release.

Not pleasure.

Information.

Levi was the first to come. But he wouldn’t be the last.

The Alpha King was watching.

The same one who’d exiled me, years ago.

And now, with his enemies sniffing at his borders and his pack fracturing from the inside...

He wanted his secret weapon back.

Me.

But I wasn’t coming back.

I was coming for his throne.

~Zaria~

---------------------------------------------------------------

The forest always smelled different before a storm.

It wasn’t just the rain you could feel in your bones it was the stillness. The eerie hush, like every leaf and every creature had paused in worship of the chaos to come.

That was how it felt now.

Except I was the storm.

And I wasn’t done brewing.

I sat beneath a crooked willow tree, legs stretched out, arms behind my head, watching the moon crawl behind the clouds like a coward. My blade lay across my stomach, still crusted with blood. I hadn’t cleaned it yet. There was something sacred in leaving the stains, like wearing your kill proudly.

Every breath I took was laced with copper and pine.

The river roared not far behind me.

And Levi was gone.

He left with a bruise on his jaw, bite marks down his chest, and blood on his tongue. I didn’t need him to stay. That was the difference between me and every Omega they tried to mold me into.

I didn’t need anyone to stay.

But I remembered what he said.

“The Alpha King’s watching.”

Yeah. I felt it.

Like a thread of heat at the base of my spine. A prickle beneath my skin that didn’t belong to my body, but something older. Something tethered to me by history and blood and hate.

He hadn’t spoken to me in years.

Not since the exile. Not since he branded me a disgrace to his bloodline and spat on the bond that had once almost connected us.

Alpha Kings don’t kneel.

But back then… I was just a trembling little Omega, on the edge of my first shift, daring to challenge him.

Now?

Now I was everything he feared I’d become.

The campfire I built was weak.

I didn’t care.

I wasn’t trying to stay warm.

I was baiting wolves.

Sure enough, I heard them.

Not footsteps wolves don’t move like that. Not when they’re trained. What I heard was the shift of air. A rhythm in the leaves. A subtle disruption in the wrong direction of the wind.

Trained soldiers.

Royal guards.

I smiled.

Let them come.

They didn’t attack.

They didn’t charge.

They surrounded me.

Three of them Alphas, clearly. Clad in dark armor etched with the symbol of the royal crest: a crescent moon over a wolf’s skull. The Alpha King’s sigil.

One of them stepped forward. Scar down his cheek. Eyes like ice and judgment.

“Zaria of Black Hollow,” he said, stiff and formal. “The King requests your return.”

I yawned.

“Tell the King to shove his request up the nearest royal *ss.”

The soldier didn’t blink. “Refusal will be considered treason.”

“Oh no,” I mock gasped, pressing a hand to my heart. “Treason? What a terrifying word for someone who was already thrown out like rotten meat.”

The other two wolves bristled. The one who spoke narrowed his eyes.

“You are to return with us. Now.”

“And if I don’t?”

His lips curled. “Then we drag you.”

That made me laugh.

I rose slowly, blade in hand, firelight licking the side of my face.

“I’d love to see you try.”

The wolf lunged.

Too slow.

Too loud.

Too Alpha.

I ducked, spun, and carved a clean arc across his leg. He dropped with a grunt. Not dead just embarrassed.

The second came next. I slammed the hilt of my blade into his throat before he could draw his dagger. The third? He hesitated. Smart.

“Tell your King,” I said, standing over them, voice cold, “that if he wants me, he can come get me himself.”

They left.

Crawled, limped, stumbled away into the trees. Bleeding. Shamed.

And I stood there, chest rising and falling, my blade dripping at my side.

I didn’t smile this time.

Because now I knew.

He really was watching.

Not from the shadows.

Not through the guards.

But from the place only bonded wolves could feel through the tether.

Yes. That bond.

That almost bond.

He’d reached for it tonight.

A pulse.

A spark.

Not strong enough to control me.

Not yet.

But strong enough to know I was still his at least in blood. If not in body.

The King still thought he could summon me like some mutt.

He forgot who I was.

I turned my eyes to the distant hills.

Toward Red Hollow his territory. His throne. His seat of power.

Maybe it was time I started sending messages.

The kind that burned.

The next day, I found the village.

A border town, straddling no man’s land between rogue country and royal rule. Half of them followed the crown. Half followed coin. No loyalty. Just survival.

My kind of place.

I walked in with my hood up and my boots caked in dried blood. Nobody stopped me. Nobody dared.

They whispered.

"She’s back."

"That’s her Zaria, the cursed Omega."

"I heard she made an Alpha sl*t his own throat just to breathe her scent again."

Let them talk.

I needed supplies.

And a map.

And a plan.

But first, I needed to visit someone.

The woman who'd taught me how to sharpen a blade with broken bones.

The healer who’d sewn up my stomach the night my first heat nearly killed me.

The one person left in this world who didn’t want to tame me.

Mother Myra.

I found her in the apothecary shop, grinding herbs with calloused hands, eyes white as snow from age but seeing more than any seer ever could.

She didn’t look up when I entered.

“You reek of lust, blood, and vengeance,” she said, voice rasping like smoke.

“Your perfume’s gotten better,” I replied.

She cracked a smile.

“Sit, child. The King’s finally stirred, hasn’t he?”

I froze.

“…you knew?”

Myra looked up. Blind, but somehow staring straight into my soul.

“I dreamed of him last night. His claws dipped in gold. His eyes burning like war. And your name… written in ash on his tongue.”

My throat tightened.

“What does he want from me now?” I asked.

Her voice dropped.

“He doesn’t want to claim you, Zaria. He wants to kill the part of you he couldn’t ever control.”

I stared at her.

Then whispered, “And if he fails?”

Myra grinned, all teeth.

“Then you’ll wear his crown like a trophy. And every wolf who doubted you will kneel in your scent.”

Later that night, I sat on the rooftop of the tavern, wine in my hand, blade in my lap, stars overhead.

The wind was shifting.

The King’s soldiers would come again.

But this time?

I’d be waiting.

And if he dared show his face?

The exile would end the only way it ever could.

With blood on a throne.

And an Omega ruling alone.