The Defiant Omega

The scent of blood filled the air so much that it was thick and suffocating. Several screams echoed in the distance, and they were all familiar voices, the ones of people I loved. My legs refused to move as I stood frozen in the center of the carnage. The dead bodies of the family were littered on the ground, and their lifeless eyes stared back at me in accusations and condemnation.

"Dad! Mom! Sera!" I called out their names one after the other, but none of them responded.

My entire world of the sixteen-year-old me came rumbling as the realization dawned on me. They had been brutally murdered beyond recognition. Their bodies were filled with claw marks and holes.

Before I could register the scene, a low growl rumbled behind me. I turned slowly, my heart pounding against my ribs. His eyes were golden and bright. It carried a ruthless and predator-like look that scared the life out of me as it locked with mine. I was standing right in front of the monster that destroyed my family.

"Run, little wolf," he whispered, his voice was smooth as silk, but it carried a spice of wickedness.

I tried to listen to him. I really did try to run, but the second I turned, a sharp pain shot through me as a set of claws sliced into my back. I gasped and tumbled forward, my hands slipping on the blood-soaked ground. The world spun, and right then...

I woke up.

Gasping, I sat upright with a bolting speed. I was thickly drenched in sweat. My hands trembled as I clutched the thin blanket that had draped down my body. My heart was slamming hard against my chest with every breath I took.

The nightmare never changed. It was the same every single night. The same scene, the same fear that wrapped around me like a noose, choking up my breath.

I exhaled sharply and ran a hand through my damp hair, forcing my pulse to slow down.

It was just a dream.

But it wasn't. It was a memory, one that has refused to fade no matter how many years had passed. I was now twenty, but I couldn't escape its clutches no matter how hard I tried.

The small clock on my nightstand glowed at 3:47 a.m.; it was too early to be awake and too late to go back to sleep. With a sigh, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pressed my bare feet against the cold wooden floor. My apartment was a tiny, one-bedroom space above the bookstore where I worked. It wasn't much, but it was mine, and I cherished it a lot.

And more importantly, it was safe.

For the last four years, I'd been running from pack lands, from rogues, from anyone who might recognize my scent. I had spent the first two years wandering from town to town, barely staying long enough to settle. At some point, the exhaustion caught up to me. When I stumbled into this small human town nestled between mountains, I knew it was far enough from werewolf territories to keep me hidden and safe.

So, I did something I never thought I would do. I stayed here.

I built a routine, a life around an entirely new environment and style. I became Aria Laurent, the quiet girl who worked at the bookstore and always had her nose buried in a novel. The girl who never stayed out late or attended any social events. I blended in till I almost faded. I smiled when required, spoke only when necessary, and kept my head down.

I had no friends, no ties. Just the way I wanted it and how it should be.