The Secret Assassin Reborn As An Omega

A P

t through my skull,

he sound a rough, unfamiliar rasp in my throat. The ceiling that swam into focus wasn't mine

d to s

feel like my own. A roll of fat at my waist pressed against the sil

st my ribs. A cold, sli

re aw

mething cold and sharp. A man stood there, a silhouette against the morning light. He was tall, broa

ph

ed it before my min

w, dark hair, and eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea. He w

I was something he'd

The sting of alcohol. The burn of desperate tears. A woman's voice,

n hushed, angry tones. The original owner of this body had cornered him,

. He tossed a file onto the mattress. It landed w

he said, his voice devoid of any emotion, "our actio

ears. It wasn't the word "mate" that shocked me. It was his name, which sud

en W

r's bed. I knew that name. I knew this story. It was from a werewolf novel I'd

And I had

in the

wolfless Omega who was obsessed with the Alpha protagonist, Draven Ward. Th

ost missed it. In my head, I could almost hear the ec

ing it. He was rejecting the bond with every fiber of his

n a body I didn't know, facing an Alpha who c

le. I pitched my voice to be small, fragile. "Can... c

e contract. "The consequence of refusal is the exile of your entire family from the

e cast out to be hunted and torn apart. I had no choice. This was

e cold authority as Draven. She was elegant, her silver-streaked hair pulled into a tight c

. My future

e didn't look at me as a person, but as a stain on her expensive rug

r neck. Exactly as the book describe

Draven said, his tone flat. "The

n, her perfume cloying and suffocating. Her whisper was for me alone. "Don't f

he room as quickly

was better than being in this room with me. But just for a second, as he turn

him. It recognized me,

once he was gone. So the great Iron A

ement was clumsy, the unfamiliar weight of the body making me stum

on made my s

eye down to the lip, pulling it into a permanent, slight sneer. The body was so

ngs. Then another. I raised a hand and traced the

nt ago, slowly changed. The fear receded, repla

a specialist, an operative who could put a man back together or take him apart wit

book. The plot. Thre

usin,

would use a special "finishing powder" laced with a corrosive

pathetic creature in the mi

-empty bottle of expensive whiskey. A bedside table. On

een. I scrolled through the contacts until I found the

ced in my mind. A forgotten prophecy. The return of the White Wolf's bloodline wo

accord, went to my