Tamed by the Omega

Tanya's POV

I was born beneath the full moon.

That's what I've always been told, though no one said it like it was a good thing .

Not my father, who has always treated me like a stranger for as long as I could remember. And definitely not the Moonstone pack members who treated me even worse because of my father's obvious disdain. I would always hear whispers from the pack members of how cursed I was by causing my mother's death and denying my father the chance to have his mate and a real heir a man of his status deserves.

The Moon Goddess had marked me as defective from the start.

I couldn't shift.

In the world of shifters where strength is determined with war, claws, teeth and bones, I am seen as an anomaly. A weak spineless Omega who has one of the strongest alphas for a father. And to worsen it all, a latent.

Tonight, preparations are in full swing for the Moon Goddess's ball. Silver lights are being hung and all the tables are decorated in flowers and velvet satin tablecloths. I take note of how beautiful the grand ball room is with deep sadness because I wasn't even invited.

"Tanya."

I stiffened at the voice. My father's Beta, Marcus, approached with the clipped tone present in every man who sometimes hates the descriptions that came with his position- especially when it had to do with relating with me on behalf of my father.

"You're to be dressed and ready within the hour." His gaze flicked over me with thinly veiled disgust. "The Alpha doesn't want delays. Not even from you."

I didn't ask why I was expected to attend this year although it came as a bit of a surprise. I already came of age last moon, and while it was widely known that after the coming of age ceremony was the ball, I didn't think I was eligible to attend because of my wolf's status. The Ball was a chance for unmated wolves to seek out the ones the Moon Goddess had chosen for them. Fate. Destiny and strengthened pack alliances accompanied with smiles and a party.

Not for me, of course. I knew the only reason I was ordered to attend is because it was mandatory that every pack member that came of age had to do so and definitely not out of the kindness of my father's heart.

Still, I nodded "Yes, Beta Marcus." because I didn't necessarily have a choice.

He didn't speak again. He didn't have to. His silence carried all the weight of my father's disappointment.

The gown I arrived home to find on my bed was a dazzling royal blue ball gown, too classy for a girl like me, who had never owned something so luxurious. My reflection in the mirror startled me - hollow eyes, skin too pale from days spent indoors, hair twisted into something elegant with my flat iron from my little attempt at being presentable.

"You clean up well enough, I suppose," one of the security details assigned to watch me whispered as she passed by my room.

I didn't recognize the girl staring back at me.

I didn't trust her.

The ballroom pulsed with energy when I arrived. Men and women of different status and caliber dressed in shimmering gowns and tailored suits moved beneath chandeliers with all the elegant grace and poise common for shifters. Laughter rang like music, wine flowed like blood, and everywhere, eyes gleamed with the hunger for more connection, status and power.

I hovered near the entrance, reluctant to go in as I wasn't used to attending public events of any sort.

"Look who crawled out of the shadows."

The sneer belonged to Celia, daughter of a prominent warrior. Beautiful. Vicious. She'd tormented me since childhood with the ease of someone who knew her place in this world and could determine mine.

"No one told you, Tanya? The Ball is for wolves with futures." Her gaze slid over me, derisive. "Not broken things clinging to scraps."

I said nothing. Even my words would not give me any kind of victory in this situation, even if I had none.

"Run along now," she cooed. "Before someone mistakes you for one of the servants."

Her laughter followed me as I slipped away, seeking refuge beyond the grand double doors and into the cool night air.

The garden behind the ballroom was quiet and peaceful. Moonlight bathed stone pathways and the marble fountain where roses and ivy curled along the carved statue.

I sat alone on a wrought-iron bench, breathing deep against the weight in my chest.

Tonight had been a mistake. I should've stayed hidden in my small, silent room. But some foolish part of me - the part that still believed in stories of fated mates and love that saw beyond bloodlines and status - had wondered if maybe... maybe someone would look at me and see more.

Someone like him.

Luke.

The Beta of the Blood Moon Pack. Strong. Respected. Everything I was not. He'd come tonight representing his Alpha, as tradition dictated. And though we'd never spoken beyond polite formalities, my heart had always been drawn to him. And I'm very aware it might be a bit difficult to measure up, I hoped the Goddess could still surprise me.

I closed my eyes, imagining it - his smile softening at the sight of me, his hand reaching out and pulling me into his warm embrace, his voice calling my name in reverence and absolute adoration.

"You are mine."

How foolish.

The scent of wolf struck me before the footsteps did - fresh pine, snowmelt, something sharp beneath it.

Luke.

My heart stumbled.

He stepped into view, tall and broad beneath the moon's silver light, his dark hair falling across his brow, his blue eyes narrowed in disgust...at me.

"You?" His voice was disbelief edged in fury. "It's you?"

I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. The bond tugged between us with force and raw undiluted hunger. I saw it hit him too - the way his facial features changed and the tightening of his fists. But instead of surrendering to it, he recoiled as if burned.

"No. No, the Goddess wouldn't-" His jaw clenched. "She wouldn't curse me like this."

Shame burned hot in my throat.

Luke turned away, pacing like a caged animal, hands fisted at his sides. "A latent? A disgrace? My mate?" His laugh was bitter. "Of course. The Moon Goddess has a cruel sense of humor."

Luke grabbed my arm, dragging me back through the ballroom doors with careless strength. Conversations faltered. Faces turned. Silence fell.

He faced me then, eyes blazing. "I reject you, Tanya of the Moon Stone Pack. I reject this bond. I reject you."

"I reject this girl," he declared to the room. "Before all, before the Goddess. I reject the weakness she carries."

Pain lanced through me, sharp and sudden. My wolf whimpered, silent but wounded, retreating deeper into whatever place she'd been caged since birth.

Laughter rippled across the hall. People looked in my father's direction with pity. I caught my father's expression - relief laced with contempt.

"Tanya." His voice cut through the whispers. "Go."

That single word sealed it.

I fled.

Not to my room and the four walls I have called home my whole life.

I fled the pack.

Into the night. Into the woods. Into the unknown.

Because I understood now - there was no place for me in Moon Stone. No love. No future.

Only silence. Only shame.

Only exile.

Tanya's POV

The forest swallowed me whole.

Branches scraped at my bare arms, thorns bit into my ankles through the delicate fabric of my ruined dress. My lungs burned with every breath as I ran, faster, farther, as if I could outrun the humiliation clawing through my chest.

Rejected publicly by the one person who was supporting to accept me irrespective of it all.

Luke's words echoed louder than the snapping twigs beneath my feet.

"I reject this girl."

"I reject the weakness she carries."

I could already hear the whispers in the hall before I took off. Everyone's opinion on how Luke is so unlucky to have a fated mate like me, how it's so sad my father's only heir is a latent. They didn't have the right to say the words before, but after tonight's event it has literally been handed to them on a platter of gold.

Even my father hadn't lifted a finger to stop the mockery and giggles. His gaze had found me across the ballroom - cold, impassive. As if my shame confirmed something he believed. That I was worthless and undeserving of everything I have ever had, including life.

The path beneath me gave way to thick roots and uneven ground. My feet got tangled in one of the roots and I fell hard, palms scraping open against the hard surface of stones. For a moment, I didn't move. I pressed my head to the ground and let the tears loose carrying all the shame and despair I have endured for years.

I should've known better. I should've stayed hidden. Should've refused to hope, even in secret. Latents didn't get happy endings. Latents didn't get mates.

I pushed myself upright on trembling arms. My dress hung torn in different spots from the thorns and sharp branches. Mud streaked my skin, blood starting to bead on the surface of my palms that were scratched . I looked like a perfect description of my situation...humbled by circumstances beyond my control.

"You were supposed to be stronger."

"You were supposed to prove them wrong."

I didn't know if it was my wolf whispering, or just my own mind replaying words I have ever only dreamt of because on some level, I always knew I was no match for any of them.

Either way, it was right.

I didn't stop running until the lights of the Moon Stone compound became nothing but little dots behind me. By then, exhaustion pressed down and my bones became heavy. My limbs shook with the effort to keep moving. Every shadow between the trees began to look like one of the guests at the ball watching and waiting for me to falter.

Fear began to darken the edges of my courage. Alone, in unfamiliar woods, with no food, no shelter, no idea where I was headed - only a certainty that there was no place left for me where I was coming from.

Still, I couldn't turn back.

Even if my pride allowed me the luxury, my father wouldn't. He'd locked his office door the moment I disgraced him at the Ball. Even if I returned, begging forgiveness, he would cast me out for good this time. Officially. Publicly. Permanently because to him, I had subjected him to the highest disgrace.

No home. No family. No future.

So I continued my journey to the unknown.

The moon climbed higher, its light bleeding through branches and helping me see a little clearer. My breath fogged the air. My body ached, but something else rolled beneath my skin - a hollow ache deeper than exhaustion.

Grief.

Not for Luke. Not really. I'd hardly known him outside the official setting. My wolf mourned the bond, yes, but my heart mourned something older. Something lonelier.

The hope that one day, I would eventually be enough for someone. A person who would see my flaws as irrelevant and love me for what I am...not just focusing on the things I couldn't be.

By dawn, I'd stopped running. I couldn't. My legs gave out from under me as I stumbled into a clearing ringed by ancient trees, their branches twisting up like fingers clutching at the sky. I collapsed at the base of one, breath ragged, head pounding.

Tears dried on my cheeks without me noticing.

I curled in on myself, small beneath the vast, indifferent sky. My hands fisted in the dirt as if I could disappear into the ground, unseen and forgotten.

"What now?"

"Where do I go?"

No answer came. Only the sound of the wind blowing through leaves, the distant call of some night creature retreating with the slow but steady rise of the sun.

I slept, eventually. Not from peace, but from exhaustion. Dreamless, empty sleep that gave no comfort but at least let me leave my reality for a little while.

Hunger woke me.

Not starvation, not yet, but the hollow ache of a body denied the comfort of food and water for a bit too long. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. My limbs protested every movement. My head throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat but I knew I had no choice, so I rose.

Somewhere beyond these woods lay other packs and territories. Maybe one would take me in. A rogue, a stray, a broken thing - but alive. Willing to work. Willing to serve. Wolves respected survival, didn't they? Even if they didn't respect me. I had no other choice but to find a way.

I tore strips from my ruined dress to cover up the worst of my scratches, and tied my hair back in a loose ponytail with shaking fingers. I walked deeper into the trees, slow but steady.

The further I walked, the quieter the world became. No birdsong. No rustle of prey in the underbrush. Only the wind, cold and biting against my skin.

I felt the weight of eyes and a pickle at the back of my neck long before I saw it - a presence circling unseen. Not prey. Not a harmless creature. A predator.

A wolf.

My breath hitched. My senses stretched thin trying to assess the location of the wolf, but my wolf remained silent. Still caged. Still broken.

I might have decided to become a rouge with my actions, but I thought I'd have the chance to present myself to them. Explain the circumstances that led to my presence in their territory and plead for fair consideration. I wasn't ready to face this. Not without my wolf. Not alone.

But alone was all I had left.

The growl came first.

Low. Warning. From somewhere just beyond sight. I froze. Slowly and carefully so as not to trigger his predator instincts completely, I turned.

Yellow eyes gleamed from the shadows between trees.

Huge. Dark. Wrong.

Not just a wolf. An Alpha's wolf. And something feral flickered beneath its gaze, something barely held in check by an almost non-existent human restraint. Foam crusted the corners of his mouth. Scars marked its flanks like old battles half-healed.

Fear rooted me in place.

It stepped forward. Massive paws sinking into the soil with its teeth bared at me in warning.

I did not run. I couldn't .

If this was how I died, so be it.

The wolf circled, head low, scenting me. Snarling soft beneath its breath. Not attacking. Not yet.

Studying.

When it lunged, I didn't scream. I braced for the pain and screwed my eyes shut as I didn't want to witness myself being torn apart.

But claws did not tear me open. Teeth did not close around my throat.

Instead, jaws caught the ruined fabric of my dress, lifted me like prey too pitiful to kill. Dragged me through the dirt and leaves that littered the ground, taking me deeper into territory I didn't recognize.

Into the heart of the Crimson Pack.

The compound was nothing like Moon Stone's elegant halls and polished marble. Crimson Pack's territory bore a resemblance to their alpha. A rough terrain littered with stones and earth and timber, rough structures rising like fortresses to the sky and shielding the pack grounds from view. Wolves watched from rooftops and shadows, eyes gleaming with malice, teeth flashing when they scented me.

The wolf dropped me and transformed so I was now staring at the feet of a man.

Tion.

Alpha of Crimson. Feral. Mad, they whispered. Dangerous and unstable.

He looked down at me with gold eyes that mirrored his beast's. No pity. No surprise. Only curiosity, sharp, cutting and cold.

"Another stray," he said. His voice was rougher than gravel, low with disuse or disdain. "Or a spy." Accompanied with a grin that promised pain if I was the latter.

"She's Moon Stone's," someone growled behind him. "Weak. Latent. Rejected."

Tion's head tilted. Not like a man. He moved like a predator regarding prey, something beneath notice and not worth full attention. "Even better."

Hands seized me. Rough and unforgiving, dragging me from the ground littered with dirt and stones through a dark hall to a cell hidden underground.

After being roughly thrown in,I heard the iron door slam shut behind me before I even had the chance to utter any sort of plea.

No food. No water. No answers.

Only the certainty that I had escaped one hell only to stumble into another.

Tanya's POV

The cell had the stench of rust and old blood with a dirty, old flat bed and a bucket that reeked set on the left side of the wall.

Stone walls pressed close around me, suffocating as the silence that settled after the guards left. My wrists throbbed where they'd gripped me too hard, bruises beneath my skin and turning it into an angry red. Dirt caked my palms. My dress hung in filthy tatters.

I sat with my back against the right corner of the cell, way from the bed and bucket as the floor looked better, knees drawn tight to my chest, and waited.

Waited for them to come back with questions,..with anything infact .

But none came. Not that first day. Not the second. At the end of the second day, they brought stale bread and a tin of water which the guard slid through the bars without a single word while he watched me with eyes that said: You won't last long.

They definitely weren't wrong.

I hadn't shifted. Couldn't. My wolf burrowed deeper inside me now, silent and unreachable. Without her, I was just as good as a human girl in a cage. Weak. Defenseless. An easy target in a pack that ate weakness alive so I didn't even have a fighting chance.

Time went by excruciatingly slow. Hunger developed into a hollow ache beneath my ribs. My head swam with exhaustion, but I forced myself to stay alert because sleep in an unknown place was obviously a bad idea. Fear kept me awake. Fear of what they'd do when they remembered I was here and finally decided what to do with me.

Or worse - fear of what Tion wanted.

I hadn't seen him since they locked me up. A few of his wolves had come around, their sneers were sharp as teeth. But not their Alpha. Not the feral, gold-eyed shadow who'd dragged me from the woods and ordered for me to be dumped here.

What kind of pack let its Alpha roam alone in wolf form? What kind of Alpha brought home strays like trophies?

The Crimson Pack wasn't like Moon Stone. No decorated halls. No polite cruelty hidden beneath an air of classiness. Here, survival wore its teeth bare. Wolves didn't whisper. They showed you their honest feelings with fists, claws, glares and settled disputes with a show of brutal strength.

I wasn't prey. Not yet. But I wasn't pack either. And that made me fair game.

Fair game didn't last long here.

The door finally opened on the fourth day.

I rushed to my feet, weak but ready and braced for the worst, back pressed flat to the stone wall. Expecting fists. Expecting cruelty. Expecting the Alpha himself.

Instead, a man stepped in with measured calm.

Not Tion.

Someone younger. Taller. Eyes softer, but still with a hint of hardness. Hair dark and tied back. Arms scarred from battles he didn't seem to regret with the sense of pride he carried them with.

Beta, my instincts supplied. Authority clung to him like second skin.

"You look worse than I expected," he said, gaze sweeping over me without pity. "Tion thought you'd break faster."

I said nothing. My throat was too dry for words anyway after not consuming anything in over 24 hours.

He set down a metal tray - real food this time. A bottle of water and a clean cloth.

"I'm Dante. Beta of the pack." A pause. "And you are?"

"You know who I am," I rasped.

"I know what they call you. Latent. Rejected. Moon Stone's shame." His mouth didn't sneer, but something cold flickered behind his gaze. "But names aren't the same as truth. Who are you really?"

I didn't answer, couldn't. Because apart from those names, I didn't really know who I was anymore.

He crouched to meet me at eye level, patient as a predator deciding what he wanted to do with his prey: kill it immediately or, allow it think it had a chance to escape .

"Fine. Be stubborn. Just eat. You'll need strength soon." He pushed the tray closer with a booted foot. "Tion's giving you a choice."

I frowned. "A choice?"

"Stay and fight for a place here." His tone made it extremely clear how slim the chances of winning were. "Or be sent back beyond the borders. Alone. Where rogues and worse will finish what Moon Stone started."

I forced my shaking hands to reach for the bread, chewing it while using the time to assemble my words. "Why offer me anything?"

Dante's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Because Tion's curious. That makes you lucky. For now."

They let me out of the cell after that. Not free. Not unsupervised. But out.

Into the training grounds, and under the watchful stares of the Crimson pack members. Wolves circled like vultures, some in human skin, some not. Warriors, all. Scarred. Sharp. Hungry.

I stood there in borrowed clothes that were too big, too rough while clutching a wooden practice blade and feeling every eye mark me as weak.

"Tion says she fights," Dante announced to the pack members gathered. His voice carried authority, enough to hush murmurs but not erase them. "So she'll prove it. Or die trying."

They laughed mockingly not even bothering to hide their sneers.

One of them stepped forward, a woman with gray hair and her muscles built like stone. Her sneer showed teeth.

"Against me?" she asked.

Dante shrugged. "Why not?"

The woman circled me,savoring the moment. "I won't break her. Yet."

Liar. I could see it in her eyes that it was all she would do.

The fight lasted seconds.

Pain flashed white through my body as her fist found my stomach, knocking air from my lungs. I hit the ground hard, loosing my grip on the wooden blade and hearing it clatter to the ground. The wolves watching didn't cheer. They didn't need to. Their grins spoke volumes.

Weak. Broken. Nothing.

I stayed down. Not by choice but because my body refused the orders my pride screamed. Breath shuddered in and out. Blood dripped from my lip to the ground.

Dante crouched beside me, gaze unreadable.

"First lesson," he said, not unkindly. "Get up. Or stay prey."

I got up.

Again. And again.

They around me down a dozen times before noon with most of the pack members each wanting a pound of flesh for an offense I didn't know I commited. A dozen more after. I bled. I wanted to scream, to curl into nothing and disappear.

But I didn't.

Something hot yet cold burned beneath my ribs, deeper than the shame and fear I had always carried around. A defiance I had never imagined I would be able to muster. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

I wouldn't give my father that victory.

So I still found the strength to stand...barely, but a silent victory for me already the same.

Alive.

I felt Tion's gaze from the shadows long before I met gold eyes, steady as the sun, fixed on me like he couldn't decide what I was...puzzle or prey. His wolves gave him space, instinctively wary. Even Dante kept his distance.

Alpha, yes. But even his pack members recognized him for what he was :feral and dangerous.

He said nothing as I rose, shaking, from another blow. Continued to watch me with that look as I spat blood into the dirt and lifted the practice blade with my shaking hands.

His mouth curled slightly and I wondered why. Approval? Amusement? But I was aware that it didn't matter.

He was watching. That was enough.

Days bled into each other. Training and pain began to be the only words I was familiar with while given scraps of food and having a short restless sleep beneath thin blankets on a ground too cold to offer comfort.

I learned fast.

Not to win. Not by a long shot. But at least to survive. To dodge. To strike where it would hurt most, even if my blows barely packed a punch and landed soft as feathers. To take pain without showing it.

I learned the names of my tormentors. Garrick, the brute with fists like stone. Sera, who laughed as she cut. Ulric, who never spoke but whose hatred would've burned through my skin in every glance if it could.

And Dante. Watching. Waiting. Offering help only when refusal would mean death.

"You're not the weakest here," he said one night, tossing me a healing salve. "Not anymore."

"Who is, then?" I asked, bitter.

He smiled. "The ones buried outside the walls."

Tion spoke to me only once, days later.

"You hate them," he said, watching me spar and fail again.

"I hate myself more."

"Good." His eyes gleamed. "That will change."

He walked away, leaving me with nothing but questions and blood in my mouth but, for the first time beneath all the bruises and exhaustion, hope began to stir once again

Not of belonging. Not yet.