Chapter 2 Wynn

“Can you smell anything?” Bishop asked Alaric as we exited the car.

“Besides the eager desperation of the other units? Not much can get past that stench,” Alaric replied.

“I think he was referring to the females,” I inputted, taking in the sharp, clinical steel building before me.

The Council was known for being overly cautious, but I couldn’t say I blamed them, considering they were allowing almost eighty virile males inside their walls—males who were ready to do whatever it took to leave with a mate.

This was our pack, the Hidden Creek’s first year of eligibility, and it was my job as Alpha to lead my unit into our first claim. All the other units in our pack were counting on our success. Only then could they participate in the Hunt. The Council admitted one unit from each sanctioned pack to compete in every Hunt, and there were four Hunts a year. That meant there were only four chances to bring an Omega to the pack each year until, hopefully, all the units had mates and pups.

Bishop shrugged. “No matter. We’ll see them eventually.”

I grunted my agreement and led my unit to the security doors. Two Council Enforcers operated the door while an official stood behind them with a clipboard, checking in the invited units. The older shifter peered at me, and the sneer fell from his face at my blank expression.

“Alpha Wynn, Beta Bishop, and Gamma Alaric of the Hidden Creek,” I said smoothly.

He gave a sharp nod, scribbling something on his board as he found our names.

“Welcome, Alpha unit. The Council wishes you a successful Hunt.” He stood aside to let us pass.

We entered the large, well-lit space. Tables were arranged in the center of the room, and each had a sign bearing a unit’s name. A steaming buffet and drink station took up one wall, and a handful of units crowded around it with cups of coffee.

My nose tingled with the wild, musky scent of unfamiliar wolves. Alphas, Betas, and Gammas filed inside, sticking close to their unit as they looked around. Alaric was right—the cloying smell of desperation and longing was overwhelming. As were the narrow, assessing gazes roving over us as we entered.

Pack treaties and alliances didn’t exist—not in the Hunt, where the prize was the survival of your pack. Everyone was an enemy.

A reassuring warmth filtered down the bond, and I recognized Bishop’s calming presence. My unit felt my Alpha instincts rising in the face of aggression, but luckily, they knew how to calm me.

Even so, my wolf snapped a warning, ready to take fur at a moment’s notice.

“Easy, big guy. Save it for the Hunt,” Alaric said as he placed a large hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

I huffed, rolling my neck to ease some of the tension in my muscles. None of them matter, I reminded myself. Focus on securing an Omega.

“Goddess only knows why Omegas were given the ability to breed. If strength is an important factor, Alpha or Beta females would have been the better choice,” I muttered.

Bishop’s thick brows lifted. “Maybe you’re judging them too harshly. I mean, what do we really know about Omegas? Everyone says they’re timid and meek, but that could be a lie.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “Why would the Council protect them so fiercely otherwise? If they could survive on their own, they would be with a pack. That life, living in the solitude of a confined building, cut off from other shifters, is not just unnatural; it’s blasphemy.”

“You know what happened before the Council stepped in and offered their protection,” Alaric said. “Males quite literally killed to get their hands on Omegas, and packs were consistently at war. It doesn’t matter how strong you are—no one can run forever. Who wants to spend their life being hunted?”

“Why would they even try? To take a bound mate is . . .” Alaric’s face soured as he went silent, unable to finish the thought.

“Desperation,” I replied. “It brings out the worst in people.”

I swallowed my rising distaste and mentally prepared for the hours ahead. I wasn’t good with tears or fragility, and the thought of binding our unit to a female who would cower in our presence set my wolf on edge.

How the hell am I going to do this?

I was more thankful than ever for my unit. If she was a spineless, helpless creature, Bishop’s talent for easing the emotions of others and Alaric’s easygoing nature could be of comfort.

We headed to our table and took our seats. Bishop struck up a conversation with the unit next to ours in an attempt to find out more about the Omegas. The man could charm the venom out of a snake—it was one of the many reasons he was my Beta.

Omegas were a mystery in general. The information we had was passed down from mated units or the Council themselves, so needless to say, the facts were few and far between.

“Think he’ll have any luck?” Alaric asked, his sharp eyes cataloging the males in the room.

“Doubt it,” I replied. “You know how males can be about their mates.” Covetous, possessive, and suspicious.

The only established information regarding Omegas had to do with their heat. When the time came, they perfumed with a hormonal scent known to make adult males feral with need. Their bodies produced thick slick that made it easier to bury oneself to the hilt, ensuring impregnation, and they grew insatiably needy due to their instincts.

The rest of what we’d heard was a slew of contradicting rumors. Some said Omegas were weaker than other wolves, while others claimed their sharp minds made them strong. They were all virgins, but they’d fuck the closest dominant wolf if they got the chance. They had to be tended to like children, yet their sole purpose was to give birth to our young.

None of it made sense.

Bishop slid into his seat.

“Anything?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Everyone seems to know as little as we do. And the units from packs with Omegas are hesitant to speak of them.”

I frowned, meeting Alaric’s cerulean gaze. An unspoken question passed between us. Something told me every pack’s understanding of Omegas was purposefully varied. Why?

I thought about my sister. What would it be like for her and the other females of Hidden Creek to face the reminder of what they could never be?

“Don’t,” Alaric said in a steady voice. “It won’t do any good to dwell on it.”

He was right. There was nothing worse than pity, and the females of Hidden Creek deserved better.

The room fell silent when the Council members entered, their billowing purple robes dusting the floor behind them. The older shifters looked to be in their fifties, but I knew Councilman Raza was well into his one hundred and fiftieth year of life.

Though the average shifter lifespan was still thought to be three hundred, the war and plague made it uncommon to see many live past their hundredth year. Witches, on the other hand, lived a natural human life span unless they used their magic to extend it. Councilman Raza’s thick, graying hair was combed back, and he surveyed the units for a moment before speaking. “Units, we gather for another successful Hunt. The females are ready to be claimed and bear the sons and daughters as the Goddess decrees. But siring is an honor won with cunning and claws.”

A second councilman, whose name I could not recall, stepped forward. The deep river of scars on the left side of his face blended with his withering skin. I felt the weight of his age as my wolf studied him. His shrewd eyes were milky, and for a moment, I wondered if he was blind.

“There is but one rule,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “No harm must come to any Omega during the Hunt. Do what you must to claim them, but remember the value they bring to your packs. Omegas are delicate creatures seeking guidance and protection. It is your duty as their mates to teach them what is expected, and in turn, they shall obey, yield, and bear your fruit so that your packs may be whole again.”

A wave of disgust flowed through our bond, and I resisted the urge to recoil at the councilman’s wording.

“Come, units,” Councilman Raza said. “It is time to take your place in the arena.”

Bishop, Alaric, and I shared a look and followed the other units into a domed room. Inside, the walls were lined with stone doorways at six-foot intervals. The Council ushered a unit into one before directing the next group toward another threshold. This process continued until our unit slipped into the starting station.

The room beyond the doorway was bare, apart from a steel gate on the far wall. Through the bars, we could see a large clearing and the menacing dark forest beyond. My wolf rose, pressing against the edge of my mind. An awareness I’d never experienced honed my human senses, making them sharper and more acute.

Shuffling and growling could be heard from the stations around us as every unit prepared for the moment the gates lifted.

“Do we have a game plan?” Alaric asked, rotating his shoulders.

“Choose one and stick to her. Hunting is always more successful when we have a target.”

Bishop crossed his arms over his broad chest, eyes fixed on the ground before us. There was a whirl of clanging metal, and the three of us froze as we waited for the Omegas’ release. My wolf quivered beneath my skin, adamant and excited.

I watched as several small forms shot out from another set of hidden doorways. All of them were too far away to see clearly, but I tracked the array of colorful clothing as they cut across the shorn grass in every direction.

I breathed in the lush, enticing scent of the Omegas, their aroma unlike anything I’d ever encountered.

Instantly, the Council’s reasoning for keeping the Omegas separated became clear. I could only imagine the fights that would happen among pack members if Omegas were walking around freely.

A scent—strong and bright, sweet with a hint of spice—drew my attention to a length of black hair. My wolf growled in my chest, low and possessive. Desire pumped through my veins, and my muscles swelled, testing the seams of my shirt. The world fell away until only her scent remained.

Track. Hunt. Claim.

The responding growls of my unit filtered through my ears, and our bond pulled taut.

We found her.

Our target.

Our Omega.