ICE- The Alpha's Unwanted OMEGA

I recoiled as if Ethan had physically struck me. Awake, he was like an apex predator reclaiming his territory after a long hibernation. When he was under the sedation of the coma, he was a fallen legend; now, he was a walking storm of lethal intent. Patricia Bennett gently shut the heavy oak door to the master suite, shutting the Alpha’s icy aura inside. She looked at me—the "sacrificial mate" caught in the crossfire—and softened her gaze. "Don't let it rattle your wolf, Collins," she whispered. "Master Ethan has just clawed his way back to the living; he’s not ready to accept a bonded partner he didn't choose. Let’s get you settled in the north wing guest room. Sleep it off. Margaret is still the Matriarch, and she’s on your side." My pulse was a frantic rhythm in my ears. I’d spent months bracing for his funeral, never once imagining I’d have to survive his resurrection. "Patricia, my gear is still in there..." I glanced at the door. I needed my bag. After the way Ethan had looked at me—like I was a parasite—I knew my time in the inner sanctum was over. I needed to be ready to run at a moment's notice. Patricia sighed. "If it isn't life-or-death, leave it. I’ll retrieve your things tomorrow when he’s at physical therapy." "Fine," I muttered. "Are you... are you afraid of him?" "I’ve served the Silvercrest Alphas for decades," she replied simply. "He is formidable, yes, but he has never been unjust to those who do their jobs." I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those molten amber eyes and felt the weight of his "Get him out" command. My life’s pace had just been shattered by a miracle I wasn't sure I wanted. At eight the next morning, Patricia moved my belongings into the guest suite. "Breakfast is served," she announced. "Master Ethan is already at the table. You should join him. You’re still the consort of this pack—you need to face him." "I don't think he’s interested in a 'getting to know you' chat over coffee," I grimaced. "He didn't growl when I told him Margaret had a soft spot for you," Patricia encouraged. "Maybe the morning air has cooled his temper." When I walked into the dining room, the sight of him stole my breath. Ethan was in a high-tech motorized chair. His muscle memory was returning; his arms were already showing the corded strength of a hockey captain. Even seated, he commanded the room like he was standing at center ice. I sat down, my fork trembling as I poked at my eggs. Ethan didn't utter a word, but I could feel his gaze—it felt like a laser targeting a weak spot. "Hey... I’m... I’m Collins Parker," I stammered, trying to break the suffocating silence. Ethan picked up his black coffee, the steam rising around his sharp features. His voice was a low, indifferent rasp. "I’ve been informed you might be carrying a Silvercrest heir." My stomach did a somersault. I lost my appetite instantly. "Do you prefer a surgical extraction or a pharmaceutical termination?" He said it with the same clinical coldness he might use to discuss a trade deal. The blood drained from my face. I was a person to the rest of the world, but to him, I was just a complication to be deleted. "Master Ethan," Patricia interceded, breaking protocol. "The heir was Margaret’s directive. Collins had no say in the matter." "Do not use my mother as a shield," Ethan snapped, his eyes flashing gold. Patricia immediately bowed her head and fell silent. "Ethan—" I started. "Who gave you leave to use my name?" I blinked, my fear momentarily replaced by a spark of irritation. "What should I call you? 'Captain'? Or maybe 'Honey'?" Ethan’s grip tightened on his cup, his eyes darkening with a dangerous heat. Before he could unleash his Alpha command, I blurted out the truth. "I’m not pregnant. My cycle started this morning. Ask Patricia or the cleaning staff if you don't believe me. I’m not carrying anything of yours." The silence returned, heavy and thick. Ethan took a slow sip of his coffee. My stomach actually ached from the stress, so I forced myself to shovel down a few bites of breakfast just to have something to do. I needed to get out of this house. "Have your papers ready," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a glacial temperature. "The dissolution of this union happens soon." I didn't even look back. "Are we going to the High Court now?" "In a few days," he replied. "My mother is in the medical wing with a spike in her blood pressure from the shock of my awakening. We wait until she’s stable." "Fine. Just tell me when to sign," I said, retreating to my room to grab my bag. When I came back down five minutes later, I saw a familiar, pathetic figure in the foyer. It was Mason. He looked like a stray dog expecting a kick, standing stiffly beside Ethan’s chair. "Uncle Ethan, my parents are at the hospital with the Matriarch, so they sent me to check on your recovery," Mason said, placing a crate of expensive supplements on the table. Ethan didn't even look at the box. He just flicked his eyes toward one of his enforcers. Without a word, the guard swept the crate off the table and into the trash. "Uncle Ethan!" Mason squeaked. "Those are top-tier vitamins! If you want something else, I can—" Before he could finish, another guard kicked the back of Mason’s knees, forcing him to hit the marble floor with a loud thud. I froze, holding my breath. I knew Ethan was cold, but seeing him treat his own blood like a traitor was another level of terrifying. "My dear nephew," Ethan said, a cigarette appearing between his fingers. A guard lit it instantly. "You must be gutted to see me breathing again." I was stunned. He’d been in a coma for half a year and he was already drinking caffeine and smoking? The man was made of iron and spite. Mason began to shake. "Of course I'm happy... I always scented a recovery for you..." "Are you lying to my face?" Ethan raised a dark brow. His tone was casual, but the murderous intent was vibrating through the room. "You thought I wouldn't find out you were bribing Silvercrest’s legal counsel to partition my estate?" He coolly flicked his cigarette ash onto Mason’s shoulder. "Get out. If you scent this air again before I’ve decided your fate, I’ll feed you to the hounds." Mason scrambled out of the mansion like his tail was on fire. I didn't wait around for Ethan to turn that gaze on me. I clutched my bag and hurried out the door. I had a secret of my own to deal with. My "cycle" hadn't been a cycle at all. It was just a small amount of spotting, and I felt... off. I arrived at the pack clinic and requested an ultrasound. An hour later, the healer handed me the results, and the world tilted on its axis. There was no internal bleeding. What there was... was a tiny, glowing spark on the monitor. A gestational sac. I was pregnant. With the Alpha’s cub. "Doctor, what if I don't want to carry this to term?" My voice was a frantic whisper. I was days away from a divorce; I couldn't be tethered to Ethan Carter forever. The healer looked at me over her spectacles. "Why wouldn't you? Do you know how rare it is for a shattered Alpha’s line to continue? Where is your mate? You should talk to him." "I... I’m basically single!" I snapped. "Look, you're only 21. If you want a termination, I can't book the procedure today. Go home. Think. Whatever is happening between you and the father, the cub is innocent of it." She handed me my file. "Given the spotting, if you don't take the stabilizers I'm prescribing, nature might make the choice for you anyway." My heart softened in spite of my fear. "What do I need to do to protect it?" "I thought you wanted out?" she teased gently. "You're a handsome lad; this baby will be stunning. If you want to keep it, take these, get a week of bedrest, and come back for a scan." The Kingdom's sun was blinding as I left the clinic, my legs feeling like lead. I was lost. I couldn't tell Ethan—he’d have me on an operating table before I could blink. I took a transport to Uncle Daniel’s house. Since my father, Andrew Parker, had lost the franchise and the house, my mother, Natalie Brooks, had moved in with her brother. Daniel was a good man, but his husband, Victor Brooks, was another story. "Collins! Empty-handed again?" Victor’s voice was like a whip as I walked in. "I heard you brought a truckload of gifts to your father’s place last week. I guess 'family' only matters when there's a title involved." "I'm sorry, Victor. I'll make it up to you," I mumbled. "Forget it! From the looks of you, Ethan’s already kicked you to the curb. I heard the King is awake. If he actually liked you, you wouldn't be lurking around here looking for your mother." My cheeks burned. Seeing me get torn down, my mom stepped in. "Victor, that's enough. Even if he is leaving the Carters, he's my son." "Don't get high and mighty, Natalie! Remember whose roof is over your head. If you don't like my tone, find a rental!" My heart twisted. I had no idea things were this toxic for her here. "Mom, let's get you out of here," I said firmly. "I have some credits saved. We'll find a place." "I'm fine, Collins," she said with a sad smile. "I stayed because Grandpa Elio was sick and needed the care. Now that he's gone... yeah. Let's go." We were out in thirty minutes. As we sat in the cab, I looked at her. "Victor was right about one thing, Mom. I'm divorcing Ethan in a few days." She squeezed my hand. "It's okay. You can focus on your thesis now." "Yeah," I whispered, leaning on her shoulder. I couldn't tell her about the pregnancy. She’d never stop worrying. When I returned to the Carter fortress that night, it was deathly silent. Patricia startled me in the hall. "Dinner is in the warmer, Collins. I also got you those... supplies... you mentioned this morning." "Thanks, Patricia. Is he... out?" "Master Ethan left for the Silvercrest offices. The healers told him to stay in bed, but he doesn't take orders," she sighed. I spent the night tossing and turning, the reality of the child growing inside me making it impossible to find peace. The next morning, I waited until 9:30 a.m. to leave my room, desperate to avoid another icy confrontation. Patricia knocked on my door. "He’s gone for the day. You can eat in peace." After breakfast, I got a call from a college friend. "Collins, I've got a translation gig for you. It's a heavy manual for a hockey equipment manufacturer, but the pay is triple the usual rate if you can finish by noon." I was desperate for credits. If I chose to have the surgery, I needed to pay for it myself. I finished the work by 11:30 a.m., but as I went to send the file, my laptop screen flickered and died. A total crash. "Patricia! My laptop is dead and I have a deadline! Is there another computer I can use? Just for five minutes!" "Only Master Ethan’s in the study." My blood turned to ice. "I can't go in there." "It's just one file, Collins. Master Ethan is a hard man, but he understands business. If you're quick, he'll never know." I looked at the clock. 11:50 a.m. I needed that money. I told myself that since Ethan was technically the father, using his computer to earn medical fees for his heir was only fair. I slipped into the dark, oak-paneled study. It smelled of cedar and expensive tobacco. I sat at the desk and hit the power button. I braced myself for a password screen, but the monitor flared to life instantly, bypasses active.