The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 162

Alaric

Three hours.

Three hours since her consciousness faded from our bond, leaving only a faint pulse of life where a vibrant connection should exist. Three hours of rage so consuming my partial shift remains permanent, claws extended, beast clawing beneath skin that can barely contain fury.

"The guards were found unconscious, specialized tranquilizer," Garrett reports, keeping physical distance as my beast's state demands. "The old wolf and supposed patient vanished completely."

My roar shakes the command center walls, maps and reports trembling in its wake. Around me, warriors flinch but hold positions – every available fighter mobilized the moment Sage's desperate message pierced my mind. Cassius. Child. Prophecy.

Three words that confirmed my worst fears, that transformed background vigilance to foreground war.

"How?" The question emerges as a growl, my voice distorted by my partial shift. "How did he get past our security? Our scouts? Our intelligence?"

No one answers immediately, recognition of catastrophic failure hanging heavy in command center air. Not just failure to prevent ordinary threats, but failure to protect my mate, my queen, carrier of my unborn child.

"The eastern village has extensive tunnel systems from the Great War," an intelligence officer finally ventures. "Most were officially sealed, but our scans show recent usage patterns. He must have—"

My fist connects with the reinforced table, splintering material designed to withstand lycan strength. Through our fragmented bond, I search desperately for a stronger connection to Sage, finding only muted presence indicating life but offering no location, no details, no reassurance beyond continued existence.

"Find them," I snarl, control fragmenting further as Phantom pushes against my human restraint. "Every wolf. Every resource. Find my mate and child."

Warriors disperse with practiced efficiency, search patterns already established for territories surrounding the eastern village. Through broken connection, I continue reaching for Sage, pushing against whatever barrier muffles our bond.

"Son." My mother approaches where others dare not, maternal authority allowing proximity my beast might reject from anyone else. "The royal quarters... there's something you should see."

The journey to our private chambers passes in a blur of rage and fear, my senses hyper-focused on a faint thread still connecting me to Sage. Alive. Still alive. The mantra repeats with each heartbeat, only certainty preventing complete descent into primal fury.

In Sage's private study, Helena indicates scattered papers beneath the overturned desk – evidence of guards' desperate search for any clue to her disappearance. But her attention focuses on a hidden compartment revealed by a disturbed bookshelf, secret space even I hadn't known existed within our quarters.

"The guards found this," she explains, indicating a small wooden box with ancient symbols carved into its aged surface. "It was concealed behind her healing texts."

The box opens at my touch, ancient magic recognizing her mate despite a fractured bond. Inside, carefully preserved evidence of what Sage deliberately kept hidden – dozens of threats, each more graphic than last, all targeting her specifically rather than our child. Notes dating back months, increasing in frequency and detail with each passing week.

"These were found in the Queen's private study," I continue, displaying the collection of death threats Sage kept hidden. "Months of specific threats against her life. Threats she concealed to continue serving her people through healing work."

Reactions vary across council faces – genuine horror from some, careful neutrality from others, calculating assessment from few I've long suspected of harboring traditional prejudices against healing abilities.

"Someone here knows more than they're admitting," I state with deadly calm belying my beast's howling rage. "Someone helped Cassius penetrate our security. Someone betrayed their Queen, their kingdom, and their King."

No one speaks, tension building as the accusation hangs unanswered. Through our frayed bond, my awareness of Sage shifts subtly – still alive, still present, but something changing in the connection's quality. Becoming more distinct despite artificial dampening, her consciousness pushing against whatever separates us.

"Search them," I command guards stationed around the chamber. "Every council member. Every possession. Every communication."

Protests rise immediately – indignation at implied suspicion, outrage at the violation of ranked wolves' privacy, concerns about precedent such action establishes. I silence them with a single growl, power flooding the room with force that drops even highest-ranked wolves to their knees.

"My mate," I emphasize each word with precision that costs tremendous control, "carries the heir to this kingdom. Your future king or queen grows within her. And someone helped Cassius take them both."

Goddess help them when I find out who it is.