PRETENDER: Alpha's Forbidden Omega

"Don't look back!" A voice whispered, fiercely.

The words echoed like a prayer in her head - Mia's voice, breaking with fear as she ran.

But even with that, Elowyn couldn't dare look back.

Behind her, the night howled. Trees clawed at the sky. And somewhere far off, too close, the Pack Lord's scouts were closing in. She could hear them. The padded footsteps, pack growls, the metal creak of a chain leash, her stepdad yelling at her sobbing mother.

She tightened her fists.

Her boots slapped the earth, soaked and freezing, every breath a knife to her lungs. Her hood clung to her damp hair. She didn't stop. Couldn't. Not when her scent was strong to pull them her way. Not when her real name still echoed behind her like a curse.

Elowyn Froste. To be claimed. Promised. Hunted.

They wanted her for deep reasons and her stepfather didn't care. Her mother couldn't do anything. Nothing! She was just a woman to be used.

A once alluring Vixen who lost her mate and turned her back on her daughter to favor another power-hungry animal.

So Elowyn ran.

And now-

"Ashmoore's Training Academy's the only way out." the whisper said. "No one will look for a girl among Alphas. No one of them packs can get let in. So, don't give up."

A plan.

A dangerous one.

But it was all she had left.

She stumbled, knees buckling on the icy slope. Scraped palms. Blood. The weeds and shrubs clawed at her but she couldn't dare to mind.

Her disguise was still intact: hair chopped. Chest bound. Her forged name pressed against her ribs like a second heartbeat. Ashmoore's Training Academy. Elyan Froste. Male. Admitted.

If she could just make it to the cave and meet her bestfriend. For one last time....

"Don't look back. Don't look back."

A snarl split the darkness behind her.

She ran harder.

A flicker of firelight.

She stumbled into the clearing like a storm - soaked, shaking, breathless. The circle of stones was exactly where Mia said it'd be. Elowyn ran in and dropped to her knees, knuckles raw, body aching.

"You're early, dear." a voice said, smooth and dry as ash.

Mia stood in the shadows, cloak billowing, fingers already smeared with chalk and herbs. Her black eyes glinted with moonlight, like they already knew what would happen next.

"Mia!" Elowyn rasped.

Mia sighed, crouching down, pushing a warm, glowing flask into her hands. "Sip that. It'll always mask your scent for up to six hours. Any longer, you're on your own."

"And my injuries, face and voice?"

"The more you drink, the more it disguises. It'll slightly dull your features. You'll pass as a tired boy in the right light. Drink it once you see the gates."

Elowyn hesitated, hands trembling. "What if they catch me anyway?"

Mia raised one brow, her expression unreadable.

"Then die with your secret intact. Better than living as a sacrificial Luna to that pig. Don't be afraid. I'll do anything for you. Just one message and it's done."

The Pack Lord.

Her stomach twisted with discomfort. Her fingers closed around the cloth.

She needed to go.

Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked.

"Ashmoore's gate will open at dawn and you'd have gotten there." Mia said. "They'll expect you. I sent your file. You know the plan. Don't speak more than you have to. And for Moon's sake...."

She reached out, cupped Elowyn's face gently, to comfort her and to lock her gaze.

"Don't you dare fall in love with anyone. Not even a little."

Elowyn exhaled a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "I'm going there to survive. I can't love anyone."

Mia stepped back, lips twitching. She looked unsure.

"I just can't picture something right away but all will be well."

She knelt at the edge of a chalked summoning ring, whispering in a tongue that hadn't been spoken in centuries. Her eyes glowed faint purple, herbs curling in smoke around her palms.

Elowyn watched, clutching the forged ID against her chest, heartbeat matching the rhythm of the incantation.

Then the ground rumbled.

From between two skeletal trees, a carriage emerged, wood darkened with time, silver trim glowing faintly in the moonlight. The two horses weren't alive. Not quite dead either. Their eyes burned pale blue. Their breath fogged the air like smoke from forgotten war camps.

Mia pulled out of her trance and stood up, brushing soot from her palms. "You're officially Prince Elyan Froste of the Eastern Draven Clan. Long forgotten, rarely questioned, and conveniently noble."

"And the carriage?" Elowyn whispered, stepping toward the spectral ride.

"Constructed from memory. It's how I made them believe you existed in the system. Old academy records from twenty years ago - I bent time to make you real."

Elowyn stared at her even though she didn't fully understand.

"Mia... how long will it last?"

Mia's lips pressed into a tight line. "One hour. From the moment the wheels stop at Ashmoore's pack. After that, the carriage fades, the illusion breaks, and if you're not inside those walls by then.... it all collapses."

"Everything?"

"They aren't people, Elowyn. They're illusions that seem real."

The driver, wearing a high-collared black coat, turned slightly and nodded once - motionless, ghostly, obedient.

"Once they drop you off, they'll vanish with the wind in one hour," Mia said softly. "So move fast. Don't answer too many questions. And remember..."

She looked at Elowyn - no longer playful, but deadly serious.

"This isn't a game. If someone catches your scent - the real one - you're likely to be dead. Mate bond or not."

Elowyn bit her lips and cried softly before running into the arms of her dear friend.

The hug lasted for a moment and then Mia stepped back.

"You're strong, Elowyn. Go, now. Remember, you're Elyan Froste."

And yes, she was.

Elowyn looked at the large gate upfront and instinct made her hurry and sip off the concoction her sweet friend had made.

Elowyn shut her eyes and felt the change. She sighed softly and swallowed.

The carriage rattled to a stop.

Fog wrapped around the wheels like silk, and the gates of Ashmoore's Training Academy loomed ahead - tall, iron-wrought, carved with the ancient sigil of the first Alpha bloodline.

Elowyn stared up from behind the window curtain, breath shallow. The illusion was holding. The forged sigils burned faintly on the carriage's crest. The two stallions stood still in the morning chill.

The driver blinked and said nothing.

Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the edge of her coat - masculine cut, plain but noble enough. Her shoulders still ached from the bindings. Her voice was quiet, nearly forgotten, and her heart? It thundered.

"You are Prince Elyan Froste." She reminded herself. "Of the long-lost Eastern Draven Clan. And no one must know otherwise."

The gates creaked open.

The carriage raced down to the entrance pillar and halted.

A woman stood at the threshold, dressed in a long obsidian coat and big glasses. Stern face. Alpha presence.

She was flanked by two student guards. Younger wolves, sharp-eyed.

Elowyn got out and two of her ghostly companies went ahead to grab her things.

"Name?" the woman asked, voice clipped and scrutinized the young alpha and servants before her.

Elowyn swallowed, straightened, and stepped out onto the cobbled path like her knees weren't made of mud.

"Elyan Froste," she said carefully. "Draven lineage. Here for admittance."

A pause. The woman stared at her. No, through her, eyes narrowed. Then she checked the ledger in her hand, her brow arching as if surprised to see the name.

"From the east." she said slowly. "That's a long way off."

"The Dravens travel far and speak little," Elowyn replied, just as Mia had coached her.

The woman gave a faint nod.

"Dormitory 3B. You'll be sharing with an active Senior Alpha in training. Baron Ortega. Give him this."

Elowyn received a card and the entrance door flapped open.

She nodded stiffly and stepped forward.

"I'm just a student. Just a boy." She sang in her head. "I'm fitting in. No one's noticing."

The gates shut behind her with a clang that sounded too much like a trap.

The academy was colder inside than it looked. Grey stone. Towering walls. Students moved in groups, talking in murmurs. Big and tall. Aura for aura. Dominance.

A few stared at her - most just kept walking.

Surprisingly, there were colorful flowerbeds here and there and that was enough to give Elowyn a spark of hope that she wasn't in a grave.

But one pair of eyes lingered too long.

A boy in black, arms folded, leaning against a wall. He looked maybe 19, 20. Tousled hair. Pale skin. Piercing blue eyes that almost glowed beneath the cloudy sky.

Elowyn met his gaze for one second too long.

He looked away like he didn't care.

But something told her he noticed something.

The way a wolf notices a ripple in the wind.

★★★

★★★

Dormitory 3B was at the end of the east wing, tucked between a weapons hall and an indoor training pit.

When she stepped inside, the scent hit her like a wave.

Musk. Pine. Cold iron. Alpha.

Baron Ortega wasn't there yet. But his scent had claimed the room.

She took a bag from her illusionary servants and crossed to another door that had her name written at the top exhaled slowly, pushing the door open as she thought.

The ghosts followed and placed her things on the luxurious bunk bed.

"Please, let it not be."

Outside the room, footsteps drew near.

The door creaked.

And there he was - the Alpha with the green eyes, towel around his neck, hair damp, jaw tight. Baron Ortega.

Large. Wildly handsome. Silent.

He froze in the doorway.

Looked her up and down once.

Tilted his head slightly.

He sniffed the air.

"You smell... different."

Elowyn's mouth went dry. Her fingers tightened on the blanket.

"New soap," she said flatly.

Baron didn't blink.

"Hmm," he said. "Don't get comfortable so I don't break your face."

Elowyn swallowed uneasily and quickly blinked.

"I'm sorry. I will have to run with my.... servants before they get exhausted."

Baron's brow creased and he watched her questioningly.

"Exhausted?" He repeated.

"I'm sorry." She said again, stepping back. "We must hurry."

Baron watched the scrawny roommate turn around and run. The strangely pale and orderly servants stepped along with eerie grace.

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

★★★

★★★

Elowyn gave a stiff, awkward wave at the illusions dear Mia had created - their noble uniforms, their unreal posture - to make her arrive in this strange place in a grand style.

All a lie.

She bit her lip and fought the sadness that welled up in her chest. She shut her eyes and muttered a prayer for her friend.

Then, she jumped back into reality once the entrance gate slammed loudly behind the illusionary servants.

"You're in a new world now."

She instinctively began to raise a hand to rub her other arm but she was quick to come back to her senses.

"You're no longer in The Somberwoke Village. You're not a girl anymore." Her mind reminded fiercely and she stood straight.

She had to make way because large males - alphas-in-the-making were marching in with their servants and luggages in groups.

Tall and mighty.

Eyes cold and expressionless.

Aura. Cold.

They were wolves in human form.

The crowd was growing.

"You have to leave this place and go stay in your room. You can't afford to be noticed." Her mind spoke again.

But she was too hard to not notice because too many alphas were already watching her.

Someone nudged another and said something in a low voice.

Her heart rose in fear.

"They see something, Elowyn!"

But....

She shook her head and straightened her shoulders and turned to walk back to where she'd come from.

"I'm inside the academy. I won't be married off. I'll be careful and try my best." Her head murmured.

She hurried off.

★★★

★★★

Elowyn was careful when she opened the door to Dormitory 3B - slow, quiet and watchful. Like this was a survival drill.

The room was dim. Empty. Silent.

Baron was nowhere around and she held her breath, stepping in fully.

One glance around and still no movement. Good.

She then proceeded to steal her way to her door.

And before two counts, she was in and padding towards her bag on the bed. A sigh pushed out of her nostrils.

"Oh Moon...."

She brought out the binding flask Mia had given her. Elowyn sipped the herb fast and her body hummed. The masking herb was settling into her.

In 5 seconds, it was over.

Elowyn began to hide it back in it's place beneath a folded shirt....

The door whipped open.

She gasped and turned sharply, breath caught in her throat.

And what she saw got her gasping again and shifting back.

Baron....

He stood in the doorway.

Naked.

Hair tousled and soaked immensely.

Elowyn was struck and her gaze flickered lower than it should have. She saw him.

Completely bare before her like nudity was a nature-given right.

Her stomach tightened instantly.

"Stand straight! Chin up!" Her head barked and she instantly obliged, her heart was beating. She was pooling hard.

She didn't say a word.

Elowyn could only stare at whatever it was that was behind this completely naked creature. She was as stiff as stone.

Her fists clenched.

Baron didn't look disturbed at all.

"Greatest way to introduce yourself, Scrawn Wolf." He said, walking towards her.

She stood still and remained unshaken.

"What's with this goddamn smell?" Baron asked dangerously.

Silence.

"Speak."

Elowyn remained silent and refused to meet his eyes.

But she was moved when he growled.

"I'm warning you. Speak."

"I...." Her words cut and she tried again. "Long journey."

"You smell very repulsive. You're scrawny. Is there something everyone needs to know?"

Someone interrupted.

Someone knocked - then walked right in without waiting.

Another male. As tall as Baron. Broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and a smirk that was already cruel before it landed on Elowyn.

"Did I miss the freak show?" the new male said, his voice lazy, arrogant. "Or is this it?"

Baron didn't turn around. He just stepped aside and motioned toward Elowyn like she was a faulty weapon on display.

"The great Scrawn Wolf." Baron said, enjoying himself. "From the far-off sticks. Smells weird. Talks weird. Looks like a stick."

Azpen snorted. "What's on his ID?"

Elowyn's hands balled tighter at her sides.

"That reminds me. Where the hell is your ID?"

Elowyn paused and she quickly put a hand in her coat and brought it out.

"Azpen, get me a trouser."

Azpen obeyed.

Baron was silent when he read and Elowyn was trying to breathe.

Without much time, Azpen was back. Baron took the trouser and whipped his head this way and that with two loud cracks.

"Moon above, I hope this one doesn't snore. I don't do well with whimpers." Azpen muttered.

Baron sat on his bed lazily, pushing into the clothing he'd just grabbed from his roommate. "We might have to toughen him up."

Azpen gave Elowyn a look. "You scared, Twig?"

She shook her head slowly, saying nothing.

Baron's lips curled wickedly. "Mute. Cute. Don't worry, someone's got a way of carving words out of quiet ones."

Elowyn stood there, heart hammering, rage and fear twining in her chest like thorns.

She wouldn't speak again.

Not now.

Let them laugh. Let them prod.

She'd survive this. She had to.

Azpen shrugged and opened his wardrobe, already moving like he owned the space. "Schedule gets dropped off by noon. We're in the Combat Wing this semester, so be ready to bleed on the floor."

"Also," Baron said, shooting her a glare, "get your scent sorted. I'm not living with something that smells like rotten sage."

Elowyn blinked - slow, emotionless.

"I'll be clean by two hours."

Baron smirked again, unconvinced. "You'd better."

There was a knock again.

Baron stood up and opened the door.

This time it was a silver-coat valet, stiff and precise.

"Cadet Elyan Froste." he announced. "Your academy kits. Uniforms, schedules, rule logs, and ID crests. First-year scent scan begins tomorrow at sunrise."

He dropped a parcel at the table Elowyn had not been chanced to notice beside the door.

Elowyn quietly went and took it with both hands. It was heavier than expected. Like it held all the pressure of her fake life inside.

"Do not miss scent scan." The valet added, eyes settling briefly on Baron and Azpen. "Latecomers are flagged for invasive testing."

Then he left.

Baron walked into Elowyn's small washroom.

Azpen plopped onto Elowyn's bed.

Elowyn stared down at her parcel, throat dry.

Scent scan. Sunrise. Invasive testing.

Her fingers trembled slightly.

"Wait in the sitting room." Azpen said, authoritatively.

So, she turned away, set the parcel down where she had picked it, and left her room.