The Weak Omega's Secret: Rise of the Alchemist

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.