The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Sage

The moon is my only witness as I slip from the packhouse. Three hours until dawn – I’ve learned to measure time by shadows and silence. Blackthorn taught me that, along with how to move unseen, how to become nothing more than a whisper in the dark.

My small bag weighs heavy against my back, filled with only essentials. No luxuries from the closet that was never mine. No delusions about belonging.

The first guard patrol passes below my window – right on schedule. They’re clockwork in their movements, just like at Blackthorn. Different pack, same predictable patterns. I count their steps until they round the corner, then ease into the shadows of the garden.

The irony isn’t lost on me as I use the defensive moves from training to avoid detection. Keep low, stay aware, use your surroundings. Alaric’s voice echoes in my head, and I shove away the ache in my chest at the thought of him.

A twig snaps nearby. I freeze, pressing against rough bark, barely breathing. Two guards pass so close I could touch them, discussing border patrol schedules. The information files itself away automatically – another survival skill I didn’t know I had until Blackthorn.

I make it to the edge of the formal gardens before the air changes. It feels thick, heavy with magic that makes my skin prickle. The wards. I’d overheard talk about increased security, about new magical barriers.

The main paths will be watched. That leaves the dense forest to my left, dark and uninviting. But better the devil you don’t know than the one who plans to discard you.

Time becomes fluid in the forest. Minutes or hours pass as I push through undergrowth, each step taking me further from warmth and false safety. The temperature drops. Fog rolls in, thick and disorienting.

A howl splits the night – too close. Could they have already discovered I’m gone?

I run.

Branches whip my face. Roots try to trip me. Every shadow holds potential threats, but I can’t stop. Won’t stop. The fog thickens until I can barely see three feet ahead.

Something moves in the darkness. Many somethings.

I change direction, heart pounding. My foot catches on a root and I stumble, catching myself against a tree. Blood trickles from scraped palms, but there’s no time for pain.

The sounds of pursuit grow closer. I force myself forward, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Just a little further. Just a little-

They materialize from the fog like ghosts. Royal guards, their silver and black uniforms unmistakable in the moonlight. Five of them, surrounding me in a standard capture formation.

1 drop into a defensive stance. The movements come automatically now, muscle memory from mandatory training sessions. For a moment, pride flashes in my chest – I’m not the same helpless omega they expect.

But I’m also not a wolf. Not a fighter. Not strong enough.

They take me down efficiently, professionally. No unnecessary roughness, but no gentleness either. Just the cold execution of duty.

Chapter 31

+25 BONUS

“The King will want to see her immediately,” one says, grip firm on my arm.

“No, he won’t.” The smooth voice cuts through the fog like silk. Eris emerges from the shadows, perfect even at this hour.

“I caught her stealing from the royal vault earlier,” she says, eyes glittering. “Didn’t want to disturb our King with such unfortunate business during the border crisis meetings.”

“I didn’t-“I start, but she speaks over me.

“Check her bag.‘

11

They find a silver candlestick I’ve never seen before, planted among my meager belongings. Eris’s smile curves like a blade.

“But I didn’t take that,” I protest. “I’ve never-”

“A thieving omega.” Eris sighs dramatically. “How disappointing. And after everything Alaric did for you.”

The guards‘ faces harden. Of course they believe her – she’s a highborn wolf, trusted advisor to the King. I’m nothing. No one.

“The dungeon,” she commands. “No need to bother the King with this tonight. I’ll inform him personally in the morning.”

“No, please,” I struggle as they drag me toward the packhouse. “You have to let me explain-”

“Save your lies,” Eris whispers as she passes. “No one believes a worthless omega anyway.”

The dungeons are deep beneath the packhouse, cold stone drinking in the light. The cell door closes with a sound like finality.

The guards don’t bother chaining me — the cell itself is secure enough for a wolfless omega. Still, I examine every inch of my prison, another habit learned from Blackthorn. The walls are ancient stone, worn smooth by time. No windows except the small one near the ceiling, barely wide enough for moonlight to slip through. The door is thick iron, its hinges well–maintained despite their obvious age.

A thin pallet sits in one corner, straw poking through worn fabric. The only other furnishing is a crude chamber pot. At least at Blackthorn, they gave me a real bed before they tried to kill me.

Bitter laughter bubbles up in my throat, threatening to turn into sobs. How many times can one person start over? How many times can you lose everything before there’s nothing left to take?

I slide down the wall, wrapping my arms around my knees. The stone leaches warmth from my body, but I barely notice. I’m too busy cataloging my mistakes: trusting Cassius, believing I could have a place at Blackthorn, letting myself hope that Alaric was different. Letting myself feel anything for him at all.

Above me, the moon continues its path across the sky, visible in fragments through my window. Its light catches my pendant, making the tiny etched flower seem to glow. For a moment, I swear I hear a woman’s voice singing about moonlight and healing, but it fades like mist in the morning sun.

I thought running away would free me. Instead, I’ve locked myself in a cage far worse than the one I fled.

Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be good at running, from one prison into another.

In the distance, a wolf howls. But this time, no one comes to save me.

Chapter 32