The Weak Omega's Secret: Rise of the Alchemist

For nine hundred and eighty-six nights, I was exiled to the guest room while my husband, Alpha Corbett, let his dead wife's sister sleep in our master suite.

He claimed Ivana needed his pheromones to sleep. I was just the glorified janitor in my own pack.

But the breaking point wasn't the neglect. It was the macaron.

"Eat it," Corbett ordered, holding out the green cookie. "Show me you accept my apology."

"I'm allergic to pistachios," I whispered. "I'll die."

He didn't listen. His eyes flashed red.

"Eat it."

The Alpha Command seized my motor functions. My hand moved against my will, shoving the poison into my mouth.

As my throat instantly swelled, I tasted the metallic tang of Wolfsbane. Ivana hadn't just ignored my allergy; she had laced it.

I collapsed on the kitchen tiles, clawing at my windpipe, turning purple.

From the living room, Ivana let out a fake, high-pitched shriek. "Corbett! My anxiety! It's coming back!"

Corbett looked down at me, convulsing and suffocating on the floor. Then he looked toward the living room.

The choice took him less than a second.

He physically stepped over my dying body.

"Hold on, Ivana! I'm coming!" he cooed, leaving me to die alone on the cold grout.

I managed to jam an EpiPen into my thigh, gasping as air forced its way back into my lungs.

As I lay there shivering, I didn't feel sadness. I felt clarity.

I dragged myself to my studio, packed my research, and sent a single email.

To: The Royal Lycan King.

Subject: I accept.

By the time Corbett realized Ivana was a fraud pregnant with another man's child, I was already gone.

And when he finally came begging on his knees, he found me in the arms of a King who would burn the world before he let me bow.

Chapter 1

Jenna POV:

Nine hundred and eighty-six nights.

That was how long I'd been exiled to the guest room while my husband, Alpha Corbett, let another woman play house in our master suite.

I stood by the door, hand hovering over the cold brass. Even through the thick oak, the smell hit me-cloying and stale, like dried lavender soaked in formaldehyde. It smelled like a funeral parlor.

It was the scent of Elenor, his late wife.

But Elenor had been in the ground for five years. The person wearing her unwashed robes was Ivana, her younger sister. A Beta female with no scent of her own, stealing the olfactory ghost of the dead to keep my mate on a leash.

"It helps her anxiety, Jen," Corbett had said, his voice rough with that perpetual, misguided guilt. "Her wolf is traumatized. She needs the Alpha's pheromones to sleep. It is my duty."

Duty. The brick wall he built between us.

I turned away, fighting the urge to retch. My inner wolf, usually a source of comfort, was curled into a tight ball in the back of my mind, starving and silent.

I retreated to the bathroom-the only lock he respected-and pulled out my phone. A secure email notification blinked.

From: Royal Lycan Pack, France.

Dear Ms. Jarvis,

Your paper on 'Olfactory Manipulation in Feral Shifters' was a revelation. We formally invite you to Grasse to interview for the position of Lead Scent Alchemist. His Majesty, King Kain, has taken a personal interest in your work.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Scent Alchemists were revered. Here, in the Silver Moon Pack, I was just the glorified janitor masking the smell of wet dog in the locker rooms.

I was about to reply when a high-pitched scream shattered the silence.

I dropped the phone and ran.

I burst into the master bedroom. Ivana was rolling on the floor, clutching her throat, face red, eyes bulging. She was wearing Elenor's silk robe with the embroidered lilies.

"Ivana!" I knelt, reaching for a pulse.

The door slammed open behind me. A wave of heavy, suffocating pressure hit me-the physical weight of an Alpha's rage.

"Get away from her!" Corbett roared.

Ivana threw herself backward, scrambling away like I was holding a knife. "Corbett!" she wheezed. "She... she tried to use the suppression collar on me! She tried to choke me!"

I froze. "What? No, I just walked in-"

Corbett didn't look at me. He looked at Ivana, huddled in his dead wife's clothes. His eyes flashed a dangerous, glowing red.

"I said, get away," he growled.

I stood up, hands raised. "Corbett, use your nose. Smell the air. There's no adrenaline spike from me until you walked in. She's lying."

"She is a Beta, Jenna! She is defenseless!"

"I am an Omega in your house! I have no authority!" I shouted, my voice cracking.

He stepped forward, looming over me. The air left the room.

"Kneel."

It wasn't a request. It was a sledgehammer to my nervous system. My knees hit the hardwood with a sickening crack before my brain could process the order. Pain shot up my shins, but my muscles locked in rigid obedience.

"Corbett, please," I whispered, humiliation stinging my eyes.

He walked past me, gathering Ivana into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, smirking at me over his shoulder.

"You have grown cruel, Jenna," Corbett said coldly. "Jealousy does not become a Luna."

"I am not jealous of a ghost mimic," I gritted out, fighting the Command.

"Apologize," he ordered. "Bare your neck to her."

My blood ran cold. Baring the neck was the ultimate submission. He was asking his mate to submit to a lying Beta.

"No," I choked out.

"Do it."

My body betrayed me. My head wrenched to the side, exposing my jugular. I trembled, fighting it, but the Alpha's power was absolute.

Ivana looked at my exposed neck. She didn't look scared. She looked triumphant.

She hates you, Corbett's voice echoed in the Mind-Link, dripping with disgust. How could the Moon Goddess pair me with someone so petty?

Something inside me snapped. Not a bone, but the thin thread of hope I'd held for three years.

"You're right," I said, voice hollow. The Command faded as he focused on Ivana. I slumped forward, gasping.

"Go to your room," he dismissed me. "I will deal with your punishment later."

I stood on shaky legs. I went to the bathroom, picked up my phone, and opened the draft.

I accept, I typed.

Send.

Jenna POV:

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and despair.

Corbett had rushed Ivana to the pack hospital immediately after the "attack," claiming her delicate throat needed scanning. It gave me a window.

I wasn't packing clothes. I was packing my life's work.

In my studio stood the Essence Organ-tiered cedar shelving holding over five hundred vials of rare extracts. My father, the former Grand Healer, had built it. I carefully placed the vials into a shock-proof metal case.

My phone buzzed.

ALPHA CORBETT SPOTTED FEEDING SWEETS TO SISTER-IN-LAW. IS SHE THE TRUE LUNA?

The photo showed Corbett holding a spoon to Ivana's lips. He looked attentive. Gentle.

The front door slammed. He was back.

I slid the metal case under my workbench and smoothed my shirt. He was in the kitchen, placing a small white box on the granite island.

"How is she?" I asked, voice flat.

"Traumatized," he sighed. "But physically fine. No bruising."

Because I didn't touch her.

He pushed the white box toward me. "Macarons. From that bakery downtown. A peace offering."

I stared at the box. "I'm not hungry."

"Just eat one, Jenna. Please." He opened the box and picked up a green one. "Pistachio. Your favorite."

I froze.

"I'm allergic to pistachios, Corbett," I said quietly. "Anaphylactic."

He blinked. "What? No, Elenor was allergic to strawberries. You eat these all the time."

"Elenor loved pistachios," I corrected him. "I die if I eat them."

He frowned, genuinely confused. Three years, and he didn't know what killed me.

"You're being dramatic," he scoffed, holding the cookie out. "Just take a bite. Show me you accept my apology."

"Corbett, I can't-"

"Eat it."

His eyes flashed red. The Alpha tone laced his voice, grabbing my motor functions like a puppeteer. My hand shot out against my will, snatching the cookie. I tried to clench my jaw, but the Command pried it open.

I shoved the cookie into my mouth and bit down.

The taste was sweet, nutty, and instantly metallic.

The burning started before I could even spit it out.

I dropped the rest of the cookie. "Corbett..."

My throat began to close like a fist tightening inside my windpipe. I clawed at my neck.

Corbett rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop it. You barely swallowed a crumb."

I fell to my knees. This wasn't normal. It was too fast. My inner wolf let out a high-pitched scream.

Wolfsbane.

The macaron was laced.

"C-Cor...bett..." I gasped, face turning purple.

He finally looked at me. Really looked. Panic flickered. "Jenna?"

Suddenly, a shriek came from the living room. Ivana had followed him home.

"Corbett! I can't breathe! The trauma! It's coming back!" Ivana screamed, her voice perfectly clear and loud.

Corbett's head snapped toward the living room. He looked at me, dying on the floor. Then toward the living room.

The choice took him less than a second.

"Hold on, Ivana! I'm coming!"

He stepped over me.

He physically stepped over my convulsing body.

I watched his back retreat. I listened to him cooing at her while I lay on the cold tiles, suffocating.

Not like this.

I dragged myself across the floor, fingernails scraping grout, reaching for my purse.

My EpiPen.

My fingers fumbled with the zipper. Open. Open, damn you.

I jammed it against my thigh and leaned my entire body weight onto it.

Click.

Adrenaline flooded my system. I gasped, a ragged, horrible sound, as a tiny sliver of air forced its way into my lungs.

I lay there, shivering, the taste of poison and betrayal heavy on my tongue. Corbett never came back.

Jenna POV:

The Wolfsbane made my limbs feel like lead. I dragged myself upright. My throat felt raw, like I'd swallowed broken glass.

My phone rang on the floor.

Husband.

I didn't answer. It rang again. I picked it up.

"Jenna?"

It was Ivana. Her voice dripped with false sweetness.

"Oh, good, you're alive," she said. "Corbett was worried. He wanted to call an ambulance, but I told him you were just attention-seeking. Again."

"You... poisoned... me," I rasped.

"Don't be silly. It was just a nut allergy. Or maybe you're just weak. Elenor would have shaken off a little Wolfsbane in minutes."

She knew.

"Where is he?"

"In the shower. Washing off your scent," she giggled. "He feels dirty after you made that scene."

I hung up.

I needed to leave. Now. But with the Wolfsbane in my system, if I tried to shift, my bones would break and never knit back together.

I stumbled toward the studio for my father's case.

The room was empty. The Essence Organ was gone.

"Looking for this?"

Corbett stood in the hallway, a towel wrapped around his waist. Clean. Unbothered.

"Where is it?" I demanded, leaning on the doorframe.

"I moved it to the guest house," he said casually. "Ivana has taken an interest in aromatherapy. Since you're obviously not using it for anything productive, I gave it to her."

The world tilted.

"You gave... my father's legacy... to her?"

"It's pack property. Besides, your father owed Elenor a debt. Consider this repayment."

"That is stealing," I whispered.

"It is reallocating resources," he corrected. "And stop wheezing. It's annoying."

He walked away.

I stood there, staring at the empty space.

Inside my mind, my wolf stopped pacing. She stopped whimpering. She sat down, turned her back to the mental image of Corbett, and went stone still.

The silence of a grave.

I walked back to my room. I reached under a loose floorboard and pulled out a velvet pouch. A single vial.

Wolfsbane Neutralizer. My father's last invention.

I downed it.

Liquid fire exploded in my stomach. I curled onto the bed, biting my pillow to stifle the screams as the neutralizer hunted the toxins.

Corbett never came to check on me.

When the sun rose, I was weak, but clean. I looked in the mirror. The woman staring back was no longer a wife. She was a ghost.

And ghosts have nothing left to lose.