From Omega to Lycan Princess

Three days of scrubbing floors had stripped the skin from my knuckles, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache where my mate bond used to be. I'd learned the rhythm of the Omega quarters—wake before dawn, work until you collapsed, survive on table scraps and whispered warnings from the other broken wolves who called this hell home.

But I couldn't stop thinking about Garrett's parents. About the truth rotting in my chest like a festering wound.

I found him alone in the west corridor on my fourth morning, arms laden with fresh linens that reeked of bleach and my own desperation. He was reading something on his phone, his profile sharp and distant in the gray morning light filtering through the tall windows. For a heartbeat, he looked like the boy who'd saved me all those years ago—before ambition had carved away everything soft inside him.

"Garrett." His name scraped out of my throat like broken glass.

His shoulders stiffened. He didn't look up. "You're not supposed to be on this floor."

"Please." I took a step closer, the linens trembling in my arms. "Just listen. Your parents—they found out about the rogue attacks. They discovered that Scarlet was behind them, that she was slaughtering innocent families to create chaos, to give her father's political agenda—"

"Enough." The word cracked through the corridor. He finally turned to face me, and the emptiness in his dark eyes made my breath catch. There was nothing there. No recognition, no curiosity, not even anger. Just a vast, terrible blankness where warmth used to live. "These lies from a desperate Omega are pathetic even for you."

"They're not lies!" My voice broke. "They loved you. They died trying to protect—"

"Guards!" His shout echoed off the stone walls.

Two warriors materialized from a nearby doorway as if they'd been waiting. Of course they had. Scarlet would have made sure I was watched, that every attempt to reach him was monitored and crushed.

"This Omega is harassing me," Garrett said, his tone flat and administrative, like he was reporting a plumbing problem. "Make sure she never approaches me again. If she tries, there will be consequences."

The taller guard seized my arm, his fingers digging into the bruises already blooming there. "Understood, Beta."

I stared at Garrett, searching desperately for any flicker of the man I'd loved. "They saved children. Rogue children. That's why Scarlet had them killed—"

"Remove her."

The guards dragged me backward down the corridor, and I watched Garrett return his attention to his phone as if I'd never existed at all. As if the mate bond we'd shared, the childhood memories, the promises whispered under moonlight—none of it had ever mattered.

The linens scattered across the floor behind me like fallen snow, and somewhere deep in my chest, that small flame of anger burned a little brighter.

---

The grand dining hall glittered with crystal and candlelight three nights later when Scarlet summoned me from my cell. I'd spent the intervening days scrubbing waste facilities and dodging cruel hands, my body a map of fresh bruises that had nothing to do with cleaning duties.

"You're serving tonight," Martha, the elderly Omega who'd shown me small kindnesses, whispered as she helped me into a clean gray uniform. Her wrinkled hands trembled as she smoothed the fabric. "Be careful. This is a trap."

I knew it was. But refusing wasn't an option.

The dinner party was already in full swing when I entered carrying a heavy silver tray of champagne flutes. Lycan Council members filled the long table, their expensive clothes and casual arrogance filling the space like suffocating perfume. Elder Washington sat at the head, his silver hair and cold smile marking him as the evening's true host.

And there, in the center of it all, Garrett and Scarlet sat side by side like a portrait of perfect power.

"Ah, our entertainment has arrived," Scarlet announced, her voice carrying easily across the assembled guests. She gestured to a spot directly beside their chairs. "Stand there. Don't move. Don't breathe too loudly. Just... exist as a cautionary tale."

Laughter rippled through the gathered elites.

I took my position, arms already aching from the tray's weight. The champagne flutes trembled slightly, tiny waves disturbing the golden liquid.

"You see," Scarlet continued, addressing a Council member across the table, "some Omegas simply can't accept reality. They cling to delusions—fairy tales about fated mates and Moon Goddess blessings—rather than understanding their place in our hierarchy."

More laughter. Garrett's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

"It's almost sad," she went on, her perfectly manicured hand resting possessively on Garrett's arm. "This particular Omega actually believed she belonged in polite company. Can you imagine?"

The hours crawled past like years. My arms screamed. My legs trembled. Sweat gathered at my temples and rolled down my spine, soaking into the rough fabric. But I didn't move. Didn't speak. Just existed as Scarlet had commanded—a broken thing meant to entertain wolves who'd never known a moment's vulnerability.

Scarlet made sure to maintain a steady stream of commentary throughout the meal.

"Oh, she's shaking. How precious."

"Do you think she understands yet that no one's coming to save her?"

"Garrett, darling, didn't you say she used to follow you around like a lost puppy? How far she's fallen."

Each word was a carefully placed knife, designed to wound and humiliate. And Garrett—my fated mate, the boy who'd once promised to protect me—sat silent through it all, his expression carved from stone.

When my exhausted hands finally betrayed me, sending red wine splashing across the pristine white tablecloth, the room fell silent.

Scarlet's smile widened like a wolf scenting blood.

"Well," she said softly, standing with predatory grace. "I believe our little Omega needs to learn about consequences."