The forest smelled of wet pine and decay, a scent I’d grown to love in my isolation. My cabin sat at the edge of the packs territory, far enough that I could pretend the rejection didn’t sting anymore. Close enough that I could still hear the howls on full moon nights. They never called for me.

 They hadn’t in 3 years. I pressed my forehead against the cool window glass, watching the morning mist curl between the trees like ghostly fingers. My breath fogged the pain, and I drew a small heart in the condensation before wiping it away. Foolish hearts were for wolves who belonged to someone, and I belonged to no one. The kettle whistled behind me, sharp and insistent.

 I turned from the window and poured the boiling water over chamomile leaves, watching them unfurl like tiny dancers. My mother used to say chamomile was for clarity and calm. I needed both. The cup warmed my palms as I carried it to the porch. My bare feet silent on the worn wooden planks. That’s when I heard it. A soft whimper, barely audible over the morning bird song. My heart jumped.

 I set the cup down carefully and descended the three steps to the forest floor, following the sound. Behind a rotting log, half hidden in the ferns, I found him. A wolf pup, no more than a few weeks old. His black fur matted with mud and his golden eyes wide with fear and hunger. “Oh, sweetheart,” I whispered, dropping to my knees.

 The damp earth soaked through my thin night gown, but I didn’t care. “Where’s your mother?” he whimpered again, and the sound cracked something open in my chest. I knew that feeling, the desperate loneliness of being unwanted, unclaimed. My omega nature had made me too soft, too weak for this pack.

 They’d made that clear at my presentation ceremony 3 years ago when I’d stood before the alpha and elders, hoping for acceptance and received only dismissive glances. She’ll never survive a challenge. What use is an omega who can’t even stand her ground? The memory still burned like acid. I scooped up the pup gently, feeling his tiny heartbeat against my palms. He was so small, so vulnerable, like I had been, like I still was, if I was honest with myself.

 You’re safe now, I murmured against his soft fur. I’ve got you. Back inside, I warmed Goat’s milk. I kept a small herd for cheese and company and fed him from a cloth soaked in the liquid. He suckled desperately, his little paws kneading against my arm. Something in my chest loosened, a knot I hadn’t realized was there. For the first time in years, I felt needed.

 Days blurred into weeks. Every morning, the pup would appear at the edge of the clearing. And every morning, I would feed him. He grew stronger, his coat shining, his eyes bright with trust. I named him Shadow, though I never said it aloud. Names had power, and I didn’t want to curse him with attachment to me.

I should have known better than to hope this small joy would last. It was a Thursday when everything changed. The air felt different that morning, charged, electric, like the moment before lightning strikes. I’d woken with an inexplicable anxiety. my omega instincts screaming danger even though I could see nothing wrong.

 Shadow ate quickly, more nervous than usual, his ears swiveling at every sound. When he finished, he didn’t trot back into the woods like always. Instead, he sat at my feet and looked toward the treeine, a low wine building in his throat. “What is it, baby?” I asked, following his gaze. That’s when I saw them.

 Four massive black wolves emerged from the shadows between the trees, moving with the fluid grace of apex predators. They were enormous, easily twice the size of normal wolves, their muscles rippling beneath glossy fur. But it wasn’t their size that stole my breath. It was the intelligence in their eyes and the coordinated way they moved. These weren’t ordinary wolves.

 These were shifters. And from the raw power rolling off them in waves, they were high-ranking ones. My body reacted before my mind could catch up. I stumbled backward, my omega instinct screaming at me to submit, to show my throat, to make myself small and harmless.

 But another part of me, the part that had been rejected and survived, the part that had lived alone for 3 years, refused to cower. I bent down and scooped Shadow into my arms, holding him against my chest like a shield. Or maybe he was holding me up. It was hard to tell. The four wolves stopped at the edge of my clearing, their golden eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

 The largest one stepped forward, and even in wolf form, I could sense his authority. This was someone used to being obeyed, someone who commanded respect through presence alone. Alpha energy radiated from him like heat from a forge. My hands trembled as I held Shadow tighter. The pup squirmed, making small yipping sounds, but I couldn’t let him go. “He was mine to protect now, even if I was terrified.

 “He’s just a baby,” I said, my voice shakier than I wanted. “He was starving. I was just helping him.” The large wolf’s eyes narrowed, and for a horrible moment, I thought he would attack. My life flashed through my mind. A short, lonely existence marked by rejection and isolation.

 Was this how it would end? Torn apart for the crime of showing kindness. But then the wolf did something unexpected. He sat down. The other three followed suit. Their movement synchronized like a well-trained unit. They watched me with those unnerving golden eyes. And I realized with a start that they weren’t here to attack. They were waiting. I don’t understand. I whispered. The lead wolf made a low rumbling sound.

 Not quite a growl, but something deeper, more complex. Shadow responded with a happy yip, wiggling in my arms until I had no choice but to set him down. He immediately bounded over to the large wolf, who lowered his massive head to nuzzle the pup. The tenderness of the gesture shocked me. This wasn’t an attack.

 This was, “You’re his family,” I breathed. understanding dawning. The wolf’s eyes met mine, and I saw confirmation there. But I also saw something else, something that made my pulse quicken. Curiosity, assessment, and something I couldn’t quite name. It reminded me of the way predators looked at prey, except there was no hunger in it, only interest. One of the other wolves shifted, then, the transformation rippling through him like water.

 When it was done, a man stood before me, tall, lean, with silver scars crossing his bare chest and eyes that held both amusement and weariness. “He was younger than the others,” I sensed. “But no less dangerous. “You’ve been feeding Damen’s nephew for 3 weeks,” he said, his voice carrying a slight accent I couldn’t place.

 “Every morning, same time, same place.” My mouth went dry. They’d been watching me all this time. They’d known. I didn’t know he belonged to anyone. I said quickly, my words tumbling over each other. He looked lost and hungry, and I just I couldn’t leave him. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I didn’t mean to interfere with pack business. The man tilted his head, studying me with those sharp eyes.

 You’re the rejected Omega, the one who lives alone. It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. Shame heated my cheeks. Of course, they knew. Everyone knew. My rejection had been public, a spectacle for the entire pack to witness. I’m Ezra, he said, gesturing to himself, then to the others. That’s Silas, Rowan, and Damian.

 He pointed to each wolf in turn, saving the large one for last. We’ve been tracking young Marcus here for weeks. His mother died in a challenge and he ran before we could catch him. The information hit me like a physical blow. The pup, Marcus, had lost his mother. He knew what it felt like to be alone, to have no one. No wonder he’d kept coming back.

 “He’s been safe with me,” I said, my voice steadier now. I made sure of it. “We know,” Ezra replied, and something in his tone made me look up sharply. We’ve been watching. You protected him from a fox two weeks ago. Scared off a coyote last Thursday. For an omega who can’t defend herself, you’ve done remarkably well. The words were meant as a compliment, I thought. But they stung anyway.

 A reminder of what I was, what I lacked. Damian shifted then, the transformation so smooth and quick that I barely registered it before he stood before me in human form. He was massive even as a man. Broad-shouldered, tall, with black hair that fell to his jaw and a face carved from stone, scars traced his arms and chest, telling stories of battles won and survived.

 His eyes still that intense gold fixed on me with an expression I couldn’t read. “What’s your name?” His voice was deep, rough, like gravel and honey combined. “Celeste,” I whispered. my name feeling small in my mouth. Celeste, he repeated. And the way he said it made something flutter in my stomach. You saved my nephew’s life. He would have died without your help. I shook my head quickly.

 I just gave him milk. Anyone would have. No. Damian interrupted, taking a step closer. I forced myself not to retreat. Even though every instinct screamed at me to run, not anyone. Most would have left him, seeing him as a burden or a threat. You chose compassion. His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning I didn’t fully understand.

 Behind him, the other two wolves shifted as well, revealing men who looked as dangerous and scarred as their companions. They formed a semicircle around me, not threatening exactly, but definitely imposing. I felt trapped, pinned by their combined attention. My omega nature wanted me to look away, to submit. But I’d learned long ago that submission only invited more pain. So I held Damian’s gaze, even as my heart hammered against my ribs.

 I don’t want anything in return, I said quietly. I helped because it was the right thing to do. You can take Marcus now. I understand. Something flickered across Damian’s face. Surprise, maybe. Or respect. You’re letting him go just like that. He’s not mine to keep, I replied. Even though the words hurt. He belongs with his family. For a long moment, no one spoke.

 The forest sounds filled the silence, birds calling, leaves rustling, the distant rush of the creek. Marcus yipped at my feet, and I looked down to find him staring up at me with those trusting golden eyes. My vision blurred. I would miss him. These past weeks, he’d been my only companionship, my only source of joy. But I’d always known this moment would come.

 Nothing good stayed with me for long. “What if?” Damen said slowly, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “You came with us?” I jerked my head up, certain I’d misheard. “What? Come back to the pack village as Marcus’ caretaker.” He paused, then added, “As part of our unit.” The world tilted. I grabbed the porch railing to steady myself. I don’t understand. I was rejected.

 The pack doesn’t want me. The pack, Ezra said with a sharp smile, isn’t here. We are. And we’re not bound by their narrow-minded judgments. We need someone like you, Rowan added, speaking for the first time. His voice was softer than the others, almost gentle, someone who sees worth in protecting the weak. someone with compassion.

 I looked between them, searching for the cruelty, the trick, the inevitable rejection, but all I saw was sincerity, and that terrified me more than anything. Why? The word came out broken. Why would you want me? Damian stepped closer still, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. When he spoke, his voice was low. Meant only for me. Because you’re stronger than you know, Celeste.

 And because sometimes the rejected ones are the only ones worth keeping. His words struck something deep inside me. Something I’d thought long dead. Hope. Dangerous, fragile hope. Before I could respond, he turned to his unit. We camp here tonight. Tomorrow we return to the village. Just like that. It was decided.

 Four powerful shifters would sleep in my clearing. And in the morning, my entire life would change. I should have been terrified. Instead, as I watched Damian scoop up little Marcus and hold him with surprising gentleness, I felt something else entirely. I felt like maybe, just maybe, I’d been seen for the first time in my life.

 And as the sun set over the trees, painting the sky in shades of amber and blood, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was either the beginning of my salvation or my complete destruction. Only time would tell which. Morning arrived with a fog so thick I could barely see the trees beyond my porch. I’d barely slept, hyper aware of the four men camped in my clearing. Their presence both comforting and terrifying in equal measure.

 Every creek of the cabin, every rustle outside my window had sent my heart racing, though nothing dangerous ever materialized. When I finally emerged, wrapped in a thick woolen shawl against the morning chill. I found them already awake. Damian sat near the remnants of their fire.

 Marcus curled in his lap while the others moved about with quiet efficiency. Ezra skinning rabbits they must have caught at dawn. Rowan checking supplies and Silas sharpening a wicked-l looking blade. They looked like they belonged here in this wild place, like the forest had shaped them from its shadows and roots.

 “Good morning,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. Four pairs of eyes turned to me, and I fought the urge to retreat back inside. Damian’s gaze lingered longest, tracking from my sleep tangled blonde hair down to my bare feet before returning to my face. There’s coffee, he said, nodding toward a pot suspended over the fire and meat. If you’re hungry, the domesticity of it startled me. These were warriors, leaders.

 Yet here they were offering me breakfast like we were pack, like we were family. I wasn’t used to being included in anything. I poured myself coffee, strong and bitter, the way I’d learned to take it, and sat on the porch steps, maintaining a careful distance. Marcus immediately wiggled free from Damian and bounded over, climbing into my lap with happy little growls.

Traitor, Ezra muttered. But his eyes held amusement. 3 weeks and she’s already his favorite person. He knows who saved his life, Rowan said quietly, watching me with those thoughtful eyes. Animals always know. I stroked Marcus’ soft fur, drawing comfort from his warm weight.

 Will he stay with you? When we if we go back, he’ll stay with the unit, Damian answered. We’re responsible for him now. That includes you if you choose to come. There was that word again. Choose. Like I actually had a say in this. Like my decision mattered. The novelty of it made my throat tight. I need to understand something, I said, forcing myself to meet Damian’s eyes.

 Why does a unit of your rank need someone like me? I can feel your power from here. You’re all high ranking. Probably council members are close to it. What could I possibly offer that you don’t already have? Silas snorted. But it was Damian who answered, his expression serious. You see, Marcus is someone worth protecting.

 Most would see a burden, an orphan with no value. He paused, his jaw tightening. My sister, Marcus’s mother, was killed by someone who thought she’d grown too weak to deserve her position. She’d just given birth. She was vulnerable. And they used that against her. The pain in his voice was raw, barely concealed. I understood then that this wasn’t just about Marcus.

 This was about justice, about honor, about refusing to let vulnerability be a death sentence. We’re not like the rest of the pack,” Ezra added, his tone darker. “We don’t believe strength is only measured in dominance and aggression. There are other kinds of power. Healing, perception, compassion.

 The pack has forgotten that they reject what they don’t understand,” Rowan said, his gentle voice carrying unexpected steel. “Like they rejected you.” The words hung in the misty air, truth sharp as broken glass. They knew my story, knew my shame, and still they wanted me. It felt impossible.

 I don’t know if I can do this, I whispered, honesty spilling out before I could stop it. I’ve been alone for so long. I don’t know how to be part of something anymore. Damian stood then, his massive frame unfolding with predatory grace. He crossed the clearing in three long strides and stopped just below the porch steps, putting us almost at eye level.

 This close, I could see the flexcks of amber in his golden eyes. Could smell pine and smoke and something uniquely him. “You won’t be alone anymore,” he said, his voice low and absolute. “That’s a promise, Celeste. You join us. You’re pack. You’re protected. You’re ours.” The possessiveness in that last word made something hot and terrifying unfurl in my chest.

I’d never been anyone’s before. The thought of belonging to these dangerous, scarred men should have frightened me. Instead, it felt like coming home. Okay, I breathed. The decision made before my mind could catch up. Okay, I’ll come. Something fierce flashed in Damian’s eyes.

 Triumph, satisfaction, something deeper I couldn’t name. Then we leave within the hour. Pack what matters. We’ll carry the rest. The next hour passed in a blur. I gathered my few possessions. Clothes, my mother’s recipe book, the small carved figures my father had made before he died. Everything fit into a single worn pack.

 My life reduced to what I could carry on my back. The men dismantled their camp with military precision, erasing evidence of their presence until it looked like they’d never been there at all. I watched them work, marveling at their coordination, the unspoken communication that flowed between them.

 “Ready?” Damian asked, appearing at my side so quietly I jumped. I looked back at my cabin, the only home I’d known for 3 years. My refuge and my prison. Leaving felt like stepping off a cliff, but staying felt like dying slowly. At least this way. I’d fall towards something instead of drowning in nothing.

 Ready, I said, and meant it. The journey to the pack village took most of the day. We traveled in formation, Silas leading, Ezra and Rowan flanking me. Damian bringing up the rear with Marcus trotting at his heels. They were protecting me, I realized, keeping me safe in the center of their unit. The thought made my eyes sting. We stopped only once at a stream where Rowan insisted I drink and rest.

 “You’re not used to this pace,” he said gently when I tried to protest. “Don’t push yourself to collapse. That helps no one.” His kindness undid me a little. I wasn’t used to people caring about my limits, my needs. In my old life, I’d been invisible, forgettable. Here, I was seen. As we continued, the forest gradually changed.

 The trees grew taller, older, their canopy so thick it created perpetual twilight. We passed markers. I recognized territory boundaries, warning posts carved with pack symbols. My anxiety spiked with each one. Memories of rejection flooding back. Stay close, Damian murmured from behind me, his hand briefly touching my lower back. The contact sent electricity through me.

Don’t react to challenges. You’re under my protection now. Anyone who wants to test you has to go through me first. The word should have reassured me. Instead, they highlighted how dangerous this was. How many people might want to hurt me simply for existing in a space they thought I didn’t deserve.

 We reached the village as the sun began its descent, painting everything in shades of gold and shadow. It was larger than I remembered, dozens of buildings arranged in organized chaos, smoke rising from multiple fires, the sounds of life everywhere. Children played in the common areas, adults worked at various tasks, and wolves in both forms moved through it all with easy confidence.

 I’d forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by this much pack energy. It pressed against my skin, overwhelming too much after years of silence and solitude. Breathe, Ezra said from my left, his voice quiet enough that only I could hear. You’re safe. We’ve got you. But as we entered the village proper, I felt the moment we were noticed. Conversations stopped. People turned. Eyes tracked us, tracked me with expressions ranging from shock to hostility to contempt.

I heard the whispers start immediately. That’s the rejected Omega. What’s she doing here? Damian’s unit must have lost their minds. My steps faltered. Old wounds ripped open, fresh and agonizing. I wanted to run, to disappear, to be anywhere but under this weight of judgment and disdain.

 Damian moved then, stepping up beside me so close our arms brushed. His presence was a wall of intimidation and power, his expression dark as a storm. The whispers died immediately. “Anyone,” he said, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent common area. “Who has a problem with Celeste being here can bring it to me directly. I’m happy to discuss it.

” The threat was unmistakable. Several people looked away, unable to hold his gaze. But I saw others whose hostility only deepened, who looked at me like I was poison. We continued through the village. the bubble of silence following us. Every step felt like walking through fire.

 But the four men around me never wavered, never showed doubt in their decision to bring me here. We stopped at a large building near the center of the village, beautifully constructed from dark wood and stone with a wide porch and windows that glowed with warm light. It was easily three times the size of my cabin, built for a family or a unit. This is home, Damen said, opening the door.

 Your room is upstairs, second on the left. Take time to settle in. We eat together at sunset. I stood frozen at the threshold, unable to make my feet move forward. This was real. This was happening. I was actually here, about to live with four powerful shifters who’d chosen me for reasons I still didn’t fully understand.

 Go on, Rowan encouraged gently, his hand light on my shoulder. It’s safe, I promise. I forced myself inside and the door closed behind me with a soft click that sounded like fate sealing itself shut. The interior was warm and lived in with comfortable furniture arranged around a massive fireplace.

 Personal items scattered throughout spoke of the men who lived here, weapons mounted on walls, books stacked on tables, a chest set midame. It smelled like leather and woodsm smoke and something herbal I couldn’t identify. It smelled like pack, like home. My room was smaller than I expected, but perfect. A bed with thick quilts, a desk by the window, a chest for my belongings.

 Someone had already brought fresh flowers, their sweet scent filling the space with life. I sat on the bed and finally let myself cry, overwhelmed by everything that had changed in less than 24 hours. These weren’t sad tears exactly, more like the release of years of held breath, of tension I’d carried so long it had become part of my skeleton. A soft knock interrupted my breakdown.

 I wiped my face quickly, trying to compose myself, but when I opened the door, Silus took one look at me, and his hard expression softened just slightly. “Rough day?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. I laughed wetly. “That’s an understatement. It’ll get worse before it gets better, he said with brutal honesty. People here don’t like change, and they really don’t like having their judgments challenged.

 You being here thriving under Damian’s protection forces them to question everything they decided about you. That’s supposed to make me feel better? I asked. His smile was sharp as blades. No, it’s supposed to prepare you. But here’s what they don’t know. Damian doesn’t make mistakes about people.

 If he chose you for this unit, it’s because he saw something worth protecting, and what Damian protects, he keeps. The intensity in his words made me shiver. I don’t want to cause problems for you all. Too late, Silas said cheerfully. You already have. Might as well commit to it. He pushed off the door frame, preparing to leave, then paused. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. This place needs more people who care about orphaned pups instead of just power and position.

He left me standing there, his words echoing in my head like a promise and a warning combined. Dinner that night was surprisingly normal, or at least what I imagined normal felt like. We gathered around a large table, passing bowls of stew and fresh bread, and for the first time in years, I ate with other people.

They included me in their conversation naturally, asking my opinions, laughing at my observations. Marcus slept under my chair, occasionally waking to chew on my shoe. He really has imprinted on you. Damian observed, watching the pup with something like affection. My sister would have approved.

 The comment hung in the air, waited with grief. I wanted to ask about her, to know more about the woman who’d given life to the small creature currently drooling on my foot. But the rawness in Damian’s expression stopped me. Some wounds were too fresh to probe.

 After dinner, I helped clean up despite protests, needing something to do with my hands. Through the windows, I could see wolves gathering in the common area. Could hear the howls beginning as the moon rose. Packrun night. My chest tightened with longing and fear. I’d never been allowed to run with the pack. My omega status making me unwelcome.

 But watching them now, seeing the joy and freedom in their movements, I wanted it desperately. You should go, I said to the men, trying to keep the wistfulness from my voice. Don’t stay back because of me. We’re not running tonight, Damen said firmly. We just got back from a 3-week patrol. Tonight, we rest. But I saw the way Ezra looked toward the window, the longing in Rowan’s expression.

 They wanted to run to be part of their pack and I was keeping them from it. Please, I insisted. I’ll be fine here. Marcus will keep me company. They exchanged glances, some silent communication passing between them. Finally, Damian nodded. All right, but you stay inside, doors locked. If anything happens, anything at all, you call for me.

 Understand? The protectiveness in his command made my omega nature want to submit immediately, but I held his gaze. I understand. They left in a fluid group, stripping off shirts as they went, preparing to shift. I watched from the window as they transformed. Four massive black wolves joining the dozens already gathering. Even among the pack, they stood out, larger, more commanding, dangerous, and they’d chosen me.

 The thought still seemed impossible even as I watched them disappear into the forest with the others. Their howls joining the symphony of pack song that filled the night. I was alone again. But somehow it felt different this time. I wasn’t isolated. I was waiting. And for the first time in 3 years, someone would actually come back. The attack came 3 days later on a morning that had started deceptively peaceful.

 I’d fallen into a rhythm with the unit, waking early to help prepare breakfast, spending my days caring for Marcus, and learning the layout of the village. Evenings filled with quiet conversation and the strange comfort of being included. The hostility from other pack members hadn’t diminished, but with Damian and the others nearby, no one dared act on it openly.

 I should have known that wouldn’t last. I was at the market that morning. Marcus tucked into a sling across my chest where he dozed contentedly. Rowan had insisted I take him, saying the pup needed socialization, and I needed to establish my place in the village.

 I’d argued that my presence only caused tension, but he’d given me that gentle, immovable look that meant the discussion was over. So, there I was, examining vegetables at a stall run by an older woman who’d been coldly polite when I felt it. The shift in the air, the sudden attention focused on me like a blade against my throat. Three women approached, their movements deliberate and predatory.

I recognized them immediately. Council members daughters, high-ranking she wolves who’d made their disdain for me clear since my arrival. The leader, a striking woman named Vera, with auburn hair and cruel eyes, smiled as she stopped in front of me.

 “Look who’s playing house with Damian’s unit,” she said, her voice carrying across the market. Conversation stopped. People turned to watch. Tell me, Omega, what exactly do you do to earn your keep? I imagine it must be exhausting servicing four warriors. The implication hit me like a slap. Heat flooded my face, shame and anger warring in my chest. Marcus stirred against me, sensing my distress.

 I take care of Marcus, I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. That’s all. That’s all. Vera laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. How noble. The rejected Omega finds purpose as a nursemaid. Though I wonder how long that will last once they realize you’re as useless in their home as you were to the pack. Her companions laughed, and others joined in.

 Not everyone, but enough that humiliation crashed over me in waves. I wanted to run, to hide, to disappear back into the safety of isolation where at least my failures were private. But then Marcus whimpered and I felt his small body trembling against mine. He was afraid because I was afraid, feeding off my emotional state.

 And suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about my own shame anymore. I was thinking about a tiny pup who’d lost his mother, who’d been starving and alone until someone chose to help him. I was thinking about Damian’s sister, killed for being vulnerable. I was thinking about every person who’d ever been deemed worthless for not meeting someone else’s definition of strength.

You’re right, I said, lifting my chin to meet Vera’s eyes directly. I’m not strong like you. I can’t dominate or intimidate. But I kept Marcus alive for 3 weeks when he would have died otherwise. I protected him from predators twice my size because it was the right thing to do.

 So maybe I’m not what you consider valuable, but at least I know what compassion looks like. The market had gone completely silent. Vera’s expression twisted with rage, her wolf rising close to the surface. I could see it in her eyes. She wanted to hurt me, to teach me my place for daring to speak back. You little, she started, taking a threatening step forward. Finish that sentence. A deep voice cut through the tension like thunder.

 And see what happens. Damian materialized from the crowd, moving with that fluid, dangerous grace that made him so terrifying. His expression was calm, almost pleasant, but his eyes burned with barely controlled fury. Behind him, Ezra, Silas, and Rowan formed a wall of intimidating muscle and predatory threat. Vera pald slightly, but held her ground. She was disrespectful.

 She defended herself. Damen corrected, his voice deceptively soft against three high-ranking wolves who cornered and humiliated her in public. Funny how you see that as disrespect instead of cowardice on your part. Damian, you can’t seriously. I can, he interrupted, stepping closer to me until his presence enveloped me completely.

 His hand came to rest on my lower back, a claiming gesture that everyone watching would understand. Celeste is under my protection. That means she’s untouchable. It means anyone who threatens her threatens me. Do I need to make that clearer? The threat hung in the air, terrible and absolute.

 Vera looked like she wanted to argue, but even she wasn’t foolish enough to directly challenge Damian’s authority. She’d lose, and everyone knew it. This isn’t over. She hissed, then turned and stalked away, her companions following. The crowd dispersed slowly, conversations resuming in hushed tones. I stood frozen, Marcus clutched to my chest, trying to process what had just happened.

I’d stood up for myself. I’d spoken back to a high-ranking wolf. And I’d survived. “You okay?” Ezra asked, appearing at my side with concern in his sharp features. I nodded, not trusting my voice. My whole body was shaking now that the adrenaline was fading, leaving me hollow and exhausted. “Come on,” Damian said gently, his hand guiding me away from the market.

 “Let’s go home. home. He said it so naturally, like I belonged there, like it was a simple fact instead of a fragile hope I was terrified to believe in. Back at the house, they settled me on the couch with tea and Marcus, hovering like worried mother hens despite their dangerous appearances.

 “It would have been funny if I wasn’t still trembling.” “You shouldn’t have defended me,” I said finally, staring into my cup. “I’m not worth making enemies over. Stop. Damian’s command was sharp enough that I looked up immediately. He crouched in front of me, his massive frame somehow gentle as he took my hand. You are worth defending. You’re worth protecting.

 And anyone who says otherwise is going to learn exactly how wrong they are. He’s right, Silas added from where he leaned against the doorframe. Besides, we didn’t make new enemies today. Vera’s father has hated us for years. This just brought the conflict into the open. Why? I asked, confused. Why does he hate you? The four men exchanged glances, and I saw something pass between them.

 A shared memory perhaps, or a decision about what to reveal. Because we refuse to follow the old ways, Rowan explained quietly. The council wants the pack to remain isolated, to maintain strict hierarchies based solely on dominance. We believe the pack needs to evolve, to value different kinds of strength. It’s made us unpopular in certain circles.

You’re rebels, I said, understanding dawning. Ezra grinned, sharp and dangerous. We prefer progressive thinkers, but sure, rebels works. And I just made your position worse, I said, guilt twisting in my stomach. By being here, by being what I am, I’ve given them more ammunition against you. No, Damian said firmly, his hand tightening around mine.

 You’ve given us a reason to fight harder. You represent everything we’re trying to protect. The value of compassion, the strength and gentleness, the worth of those the pack has discarded. You being here proves our point. His words settled something in my chest. Some desperate need for purpose and meaning.

 Maybe I wasn’t here just to be saved. Maybe I was here to be part of something bigger. Something that could change the pack for the better. The thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. That night, sleep eluded me. I lay in bed listening to the house settle, to the distant sounds of the forest, to my own anxious thoughts spiraling in the darkness.

 Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vera’s face twisted with hatred and the promise of violence. A soft knock made me jump. It’s me. Damen’s voice came through the door. Can I come in? I pulled the blanket up to my chin, suddenly aware of my thin night gown and loose hair. Yes. He entered quietly, closing the door behind him. In the moonlight streaming through my window, he looked like something carved from shadow and silver.

 Beautiful and dangerous and utterly overwhelming. Can’t sleep, he asked, moving to sit on the edge of my bed. I shook my head. Too much running through my mind. Want to talk about it? The invitation surprised me. In my old life, no one had cared about my thoughts or fears. They’d been invisible, just like me.

 But Damian sat there, patient and present, actually wanting to know what troubled me. I’m scared, I admitted, the words tumbling out in the darkness where it felt safer to be honest. Of Vera, of the council, of disappointing you all. I’m scared that I’ll prove everyone right about me being worthless.

 that I’ll fail Marcus, that you’ll realize bringing me here was a mistake. Damian was quiet for a long moment, and I wondered if I’d said too much, revealed too much weakness, but then he reached out and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind my ear, his touch gentle despite the calluses on his fingers. “You know what I see when I look at you?” he asked softly.

 “I see someone who spent 3 years alone and didn’t become bitter or cruel. I see someone who helped a dying pup without expecting anything in return. I see someone who stood up to three high-ranking wolves today, even though you were terrified because you refused to be diminished.

 His hand lingered near my face, and I found myself leaning into the warmth of it without thinking. You’re stronger than you believe, Celeste. That’s what scares them. Not your weakness, your strength. The kind of strength that can’t be beaten into submission or forced into silence. The kind that endures. Tears burned behind my eyes. No one had ever spoken to me like this.

 Like I mattered, like I was seen. I don’t feel strong, I whispered. The strongest people never do, he replied. They just keep going anyway. He stood then, and I felt the immediate loss of his presence like cold water. But he paused at the door, looking back at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read in the shadows. Get some sleep, Celeste. Tomorrow’s a new day, and we face it together.

 After he left, I lay in the darkness. His words echoing in my mind. Together. I wasn’t alone anymore. The thought was still so foreign, so fragile. But maybe, just maybe, I could learn to believe it. The next morning brought unexpected developments. I woke to raised voices downstairs. Not angry exactly, but intense.

 Concerned, I quickly dressed and descended to find the unit gathered around the table with a fifth person I didn’t recognize. He was older, with silver threading through his dark hair and an air of authority that made even Damian seem differential. “Celeste,” Damian said when he spotted me, his expression unreadable. “This is Elder Thorne. He’s requested to speak with you.” My heart dropped. Council elders didn’t visit for pleasant reasons.

 They visited to pass judgment, to enforce rules, to punish those who stepped out of line. I almost fled back upstairs, but Rowan caught my eye and gave a subtle nod of encouragement. “Miss Celeste,” Elderthornne said, his voice grally, but not unkind. “I’ve heard interesting things about you. Please sit.” I sat, my hands clenched in my lap, waiting for whatever punishment was coming.

 I understand you’ve been caring for young Marcus, he continued, studying me with shrewd eyes, and that you had an altercation with Vera yesterday. I didn’t mean to cause trouble, I said quickly. I was just, he held up a hand, silencing me. I’m not here to reprimand you. I’m here because what happened yesterday revealed something important. We have a problem in this pack, Miss Celeste.

 We have orphaned and vulnerable wolves falling through the cracks because we’re so focused on strength and dominance that we’ve forgotten how to care for our weak. I stared at him, not understanding where this was going. Damian’s unit has proposed something radical, Elderthornne continued. They want to establish a sanctuary program, a place where orphaned pups, injured wolves, and those struggling to find their place can receive care and protection. They’ve recommended you to run it. The world tilted.

 What? You have a gift for caregiving. The elder said you kept Marcus alive when he should have perished. You showed him compassion when the rest of the pack didn’t even know he existed. That’s the kind of person we need for this program. But I’m just I started then stopped. Just what? Just an omega? Just a rejected wolf? Just someone worthless? Damian’s words from last night echoed in my mind. You’re stronger than you believe.

 I don’t have any training, I said instead, trying to be practical, even as hope fluttered dangerously in my chest. I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ll learn, Elder Thorne said simply. Rowan has medical knowledge. Ezra understands combat and defense. Silas knows survival skills. Damian commands respect. Together, you’ll build something that can help this pack heal. if you’re willing.

 I looked around the table at the four men who’d changed my life in a matter of days. They watched me with varying expressions. Damian’s intense and certain. Ezra’s challenging. Silus is curious. Rowan’s gentle and encouraging. They believed in me. They saw value where everyone else saw weakness. And maybe, just maybe, they were right. Yes, I said, my voice growing stronger with each word.

 Yes, I’m willing. I want to help. Elderthorne smiled. And for the first time since my rejection 3 years ago, I saw approval in a pack leader’s eyes. Good. We begin preparations immediately. Welcome to your new purpose, Celeste. As he left, and the reality of what I just agreed to settled over me, I felt something shift deep in my chest.

 This was more than acceptance. This was transformation. I was no longer just the rejected omega living on the edges of hack territory. I was becoming someone who mattered. The sanctuary took shape over the following weeks, transforming an abandoned building on the village’s eastern edge into something that felt like hope made tangible.

 The structure had once been a communal lodge left to decay after a fire damaged one wing years ago. Now, with the unit’s help and surprising support from several pack members, it was becoming a refuge. I threw myself into the work with desperate intensity, needing to prove I deserve this chance. Every morning, I woke before dawn to scrub floors, repair walls, and organize supplies. Rowan taught me basic first aid and herb lore. His patient instruction filling gaps in my knowledge.

 Ezra showed me defensive positions and escape routes, insisting I know how to protect those in my care. Silas helped me understand territory markers and safe zones. His practical wisdom invaluable. And Damian. Damian was everywhere, a constant presence that both steadied and unsettled me.

 He worked beside me in comfortable silence, his massive frame somehow fitting into the smallest spaces as we rebuilt. Sometimes I’d catch him watching me with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Intense and searching like he was looking for something specific and finding more than he expected.

 The tension between us grew like summer thunder, heavy and electric, waiting to break. “You’re doing too much,” he said one afternoon, finding me scrubbing the main hall floor on my hands and knees despite the exhaustion making my arms shake. “You need to rest.” “I need to finish this,” I countered, not looking up. “The first arrivals come in 3 days. Everything has to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It has to be functional.” He crouched beside me.

 his presence overwhelming in the empty space. “And you have to be healthy enough to actually help them.” “When’s the last time you ate?” I paused, trying to remember. “Breakfast, maybe.” The days had blurred together in a haze of work and worry. “That’s what I thought.” He stood, pulling me up with him.

 His hands lingered on my arms, steadying me when I swayed. “Come on, we’re eating and then you’re resting.” “That’s not a request.” Something in his tone, that edge of command mixed with genuine concern, made my omega nature want to submit immediately. But I’d learned over these weeks that Damian respected when I pushed back.

 When I showed my own will, I negotiated. Let me finish this section, then I’ll eat. His eyes narrowed, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. 30 minutes, and I’m staying to make sure you actually stop. He settled against the wall, arms crossed, watching me work with that unnerving intensity. I tried to ignore him, but awareness prickled across my skin with every movement. I was conscious of how I looked.

 Blonde hair escaping its braid, old clothes stained with dirt and paint, probably smelling of sweat and cleaning solution. Not exactly appealing. Yet, when I glanced up, his gaze held something that made my breath catch. Something hungry and appreciative that had nothing to do with food.

 Why are you really doing this? I asked, needing to break the charge silence. The sanctuary, I mean. Elder Thorne said it was your unit’s idea. Damen was quiet for a long moment, his expression distant. My sister, he finally said, his voice rough. She struggled after Marcus was born. Postpartum complications, emotional difficulties. She needed help. But asking for it was seen as weakness. The pack, they didn’t understand.

 didn’t want to understand, so she suffered alone until someone exploited that vulnerability. The pain in his words made my chest ache. I abandoned my scrubbing and sat back on my heels, giving him my full attention. She told me once that she felt invisible, he continued that her struggles didn’t matter because they weren’t the kind of problems the pack values.

 She said she wished there was a place where being vulnerable wasn’t a death sentence. His golden eyes met mine. So I’m building that place in her memory. So no one else has to feel that invisible. Understanding crashed over me like a wave. This wasn’t just about Marcus or even about changing pack culture.

 This was about honoring his sister, about transforming grief into something meaningful. She would be proud of you, I said softly. And proud that Marcus has you. Something shifted in Damian’s expression. Gratitude mixed with something deeper, something that made my heart race. He pushed off the wall and crossed to me, offering his hand. Time’s up. Let’s eat. I took his hand and the contact sent electricity up my arm.

 He pulled me to my feet easily, but instead of releasing me, his thumb brushed across my knuckles. The gesture was small, barely there, but it felt monumental. “Celeste,” he started, his voice lower than usual. There you are. Ezra’s voice shattered the moment as he burst through the door. We’ve got a problem.

Damian’s hand dropped from mine, his expression shifting instantly to alert. What kind of problem? The kind with three injured wolves and angry parents demanding to know why we’re encouraging their children to run with rogues. Ezra’s tone was grim. They’re at the house. It’s getting ugly. We ran.

 By the time we reached the main house, a crowd had gathered. I could hear shouting, accusations being thrown like weapons. Damen pushed through the crowd with me close behind, and I saw immediately what had happened. Three teenage wolves, two boys and a girl, sat on our porch, bloodied and bruised, but alive.

 Rowan was already examining them, his gentle hands checking for serious injuries, while Silas stood guard. and surrounding them were at least a dozen angry adults, including several council members. Including Vera’s father, Councilman Drake, his face purple with rage. This is what happens when you coddle weakness, he roared at Damian.

 These pups thought they could handle a rogue incursion because your sanctuary gives them false confidence. Now look at them. They defended the southern border, Silas corrected coldly, against four rogues who were scouting our territory. These pups took down two of them before we arrived to finish the job. The crowd murmured, uncertain.

That information clearly hadn’t been shared. “They should have reported and retreated,” Drake insisted. “Not engaged. They’re not trained warriors. They’re also not cowards,” the girl said, lifting her chin despite her split lip. “And we’re tired of being treated like we’re worthless because we’re not alpha material.” My heart clenched.

 I recognized that defiance, that desperate need to prove worth. I’d felt it my entire life. You see, Drake turned to the crowd, gesturing at the injured teenagers. This is the poison Damian’s unit spreads, encouraging the weak to think they’re strong. It gets people hurt. It gets people enough. Damian’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

 The single word carried such authority that even Drake fell silent. These wolves protected our territory. They showed courage and initiative. If they’re hurt, it’s because they lacked proper training, not because they lacked worth. Then train them, one of the parents said, a woman with worry etched into every line of her face.

 If you’re going to fill their heads with ideas of valor, at least give them the skills to survive it. That’s exactly what we intend to do. Damian replied, “The sanctuary isn’t just about providing shelter. It’s about teaching survival, combat, strategy, everything needed to thrive in this pack, regardless of rank or presentation. These three just proved there’s a need for it.

 You can’t just decide pack policy,” Drake sputtered. “The council.” The council approved the sanctuary, Elder Thorne’s voice rang out as he emerged from the crowd. “And I’m now expanding that approval to include formal training programs. Damian’s unit will oversee it with full council backing.

 He fixed Drake with a hard stare. Unless you’d like to argue that protecting our borders is somehow against pack interests. Drake’s mouth worked silently, trapped by his own logic. Finally, he turned on his heel and stalked away, taking several supporters with him, but others remained, including the parents of the injured wolves.

 The mother who’d spoken earlier approached me directly, her eyes red from crying. Will you really help them? teach them how to be strong. The question was directed at me specifically, and I felt the weight of dozens of eyes. This was a test, I realized, not just of the sanctuary, but of me personally. Could the rejected Omega actually lead something meaningful? I thought about Marcus, about the weeks I’d spent keeping him alive through sheer determination. I thought about standing up to Vera in the market. I thought about Damian’s

words. You’re stronger than you believe. Yes, I said my voice steady and clear. We’ll help them. All of them. Anyone who needs a place to learn, to heal, to find their strength, whatever form that takes. That’s what the sanctuary is for. The woman’s face crumpled with relief, and she grabbed my hands. Thank you.

Thank you. Others echoed her gratitude, and I stood there overwhelmed as people who’d once looked through me like I didn’t exist now looked at me with hope and respect. It was dizzying, terrifying, and absolutely transforming. That night, after the crowd dispersed and the injured wolves were properly treated and sent home with their grateful parents, I found myself alone on the porch with Marcus.

 He’d grown considerably in the past weeks, no longer a tiny pup, but a gangly adolescent wolf finding his legs. “Big day,” Ezra said, appearing with two cups of tea. He handed me one and sat beside me, stretching his long legs. You handled it well. I was terrified the entire time, I admitted. Yeah, but you didn’t show it. That’s what matters. He took a sip, studying me with those sharp eyes.

 You’re not the same person who showed up here a month ago. Is that good or bad? Good, he said immediately. That person was surviving. This person is living. There’s a difference. His words settled into my chest, warm and affirming. I was living, not just existing on the edges, but actually participating in life, making a difference, mattering. Can I ask you something? I said after a moment.

 Why me? Really? I know what Damian said about his sister in the sanctuary, but why specifically choose me to run it? Ezra was quiet, his expression thoughtful. You want the tactical answer or the honest one? Both. Tactically, you’re perfect. You’re omega, so you’re non-threatening to those who need help. You’ve experienced rejection, so you understand their pain.

You kept Marcus alive, proving you can handle responsibility. And you’re under Damian’s protection, which means anyone who messes with the sanctuary messes with us. He paused, taking another sip of tea. Honestly, Damian saw something in you that first day. I don’t know what exactly.

 He doesn’t talk about feelings much, but I’ve known him for 10 years, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Like you’re something precious and dangerous in equal measure, like you’re important. My heart stuttered. That’s I don’t think. Yeah, you do, Ezra said with a knowing smile. You feel it, too.

 The pull between you two is obvious to everyone except apparently you both. It’s entertaining, honestly, watching two people dance around what’s inevitable. Heat flooded my face. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just I’m here to run the sanctuary, that’s all. Sure, Ezra said clearly not believing me. Keep telling yourself that, he stood, stretching. For what it’s worth, I approve.

 You’re good for him. Good for all of us, really. This unit needed someone like you. Someone who reminds us what we’re actually fighting for. He left me there, my mind spinning with implications I wasn’t ready to examine. The pull between Damian and me. I’d felt it, of course. The charged glances, the careful touches, the way my heart raced whenever he entered a room.

 But I’d assumed it was just my Omega nature responding to his alpha presence. Nothing more. Except it felt like more. It felt like recognition, like two damaged souls finding something whole in each other. The door opened behind me, and I knew without looking who it was. My body responded to Damian’s presence like a compass finding north.

 “Couldn’t sleep,” he asked, sitting where Ezra had been. “Too much to process,” I admitted. “Today was a lot,” he finished. “But you were incredible. The way you spoke to that mother, the certainty in your voice, you made them believe, made them hope. I’m still terrified I’ll fail. I confessed that I’ll let everyone down. You won’t. His certainty was absolute. And even if you stumble, we’ll be there to catch you.

 That’s what Pack means, Celeste. You’re not alone in this. I turned to look at him, and the intensity in his golden eyes stole my breath. In the moonlight, he looked like something from a dream. beautiful and dangerous and impossibly real. Damian, I whispered, not even sure what I was asking, he reached out slowly, giving me time to pull away and cupped my face with his hand.

 His touch was gentle despite the calluses, reverent despite his strength. You’re remarkable, he said softly. I need you to know that not because of what you do or how useful you are. Just because of who you are, the way you care, the way you persist, the way you choose compassion, even when the world has given you every reason to be hard. That’s remarkable.

 Tears burned behind my eyes. No one had ever spoken to me like this, like I was valuable simply for existing. I don’t know how to do this, I admitted. How to be close to someone. I’ve been alone so long. We’ll figure it out together, he said. If that’s what you want. Did I want it? The question felt rhetorical. Of course, I wanted it. I wanted him with an intensity that terrified me.

 Wanted this connection, this belonging, this feeling of being truly seen. Yes, I breathed. I want a howl split the night. Sharp, desperate, wrong. Damian was on his feet instantly, his body tense and alert. Another howl joined the first, then another, creating a chorus of distress that made my skin crawl.

 “Something’s wrong,” he said, already moving toward the door. “Stay here. Lock everything. Don’t open for anyone but us, Damian.” But he was already gone, shifting midstride into his massive wolf form and disappearing into the night with inhuman speed. Seconds later, Ezra, Silas, and Rowan burst from the house in various states of undress, all transforming as they ran toward the distressed howls.

 I stood alone on the porch. Marcus pressed against my legs, both of us trembling as we listened to chaos erupt in the distance. Snars, yelps, the sounds of violence carried on the wind, the rogues. I realized with cold certainty they were attacking again, and this time it sounded like more than just a scouting party. This was war.

 The attack lasted through the night, a brutal symphony of violence that echoed through the forest and into my bones. I stayed inside as commanded. Marcus clutched in my arms, both of us flinching at every distant sound.

 But staying inside while people I cared about fought for their lives felt like cowardice, like abandoning everything I’d started to become. When the injured started arriving just before dawn, I made my decision. The first was a young male, barely 20, his side torn open and bleeding profusely. His friends carried him to the sanctuary, shouting for help.

 I met them at the door, my night gown already being replaced by practical clothes, Rowan’s medical kit in my hands. Get him inside, I commanded, my voice steadier than I felt. Lay him on the table. I need clean water, cloth for bandages, and someone find Rowan. Tell him we need him now. They obeyed instantly, too desperate to question why they were taking orders from a rejected Omega.

 I worked quickly, using everything Rowan had taught me, applying pressure to slow the bleeding, cleaning the wound, assessing the damage. It was bad, but not fatal if I could keep him stable until proper help arrived. More injured came, then more. The sanctuary filled with bloodied, terrified wolves who had nowhere else to go.

 The main medical facility was overwhelmed, someone explained breathlessly. They needed space, needed help, needed anyone who knew anything about healing. So, I became that person. I moved between patients with Marcus at my heels, my hands steady even as my heart raced. I delegated tasks to those who were uninjured.

 Fetch water, tear cloth, hold this person down while I set their leg. The teenagers from yesterday appeared, battered but determined to help despite their parents’ protests. We can do this, the girl said fiercely, meeting my eyes. Tell us what to do. And I did. Because in that moment, rank didn’t matter. Presentations didn’t matter. Only survival mattered. Only helping each other through the darkness until dawn brought relief.

 Rowan arrived an hour later, bloodied but alive. and his presence was a relief so profound I nearly collapsed. He assessed the situation with quick efficiency, then caught my shoulder. “You did well,” he said, his gentle voice carrying absolute sincerity. “Really well. I’ll take the critical cases. You handle the minor injuries and keep everyone calm.

 Can you do that?” I nodded and we fell into a rhythm. Him handling the life-threatening wounds while I managed everything else. The sanctuary became exactly what we’d envisioned, a place where the vulnerable could find help, where those who didn’t fit the pack’s narrow definition of strength could still contribute in matter.

The battle ended as the sun rose, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that felt obscene against the night’s violence. Damian returned with Ezra and Silas, all three of them covered in blood and exhaustion, but alive. The relief that crashed through me was so intense I had to grip the door frame to stay upright.

 Damian’s eyes found mine immediately across the crowded sanctuary, and something passed between us. Recognition, gratitude, something deeper that made my chest tight. He started toward me, but a council member intercepted him, demanding a report. Duty called. Even in the aftermath of trauma, I turned back to my work, finishing the bandage on a young girl’s arm while her mother watched with tears streaming down her face.

 “Thank you,” the woman whispered. “Thank you for being here, for helping her. That’s what we’re here for,” I replied, and meant it with every fiber of my being. The next few days passed in exhaustion and purpose. The rogues had been driven off, but not eliminated, meaning constant vigilance was required.

 The sanctuary remained full of injured wolves and I barely left except to sleep a few hours when someone physically forced me to rest. On the third day after the attack, Elderthornne visited again. I was in the garden behind the sanctuary teaching the teenagers how to identify medicinal herbs. A small moment of normaly in the chaos.

 Celeste, he called, approaching with an expression I couldn’t read. Walk with me. Anxiety spiked through my exhaustion, but I nodded and followed him away from listening ears. We walked in silence for several minutes before he spoke. “The council met this morning,” he said. “There’s been discussion about recent events, about the sanctuary, the training program, and your role in all of it.” My heart sank. Here it came.

 the inevitable rejection, the reminder that I’d overstepped, that someone like me couldn’t actually matter. Councilman Drake has formally accused you of overreaching your authority, Thorne continued. He claims you endangered lives by playing healer without proper training or rank. Several others support him. The words hit like physical blows. After everything I’d done, all the people I’d helped, they were still trying to tear me down, still trying to prove I was worthless. However, Thorne said, his tone shifting.

 He was outvoted significantly. The majority of the council and more importantly, the majority of pack members whose families you helped support not just maintaining the sanctuary, but expanding it. They want you officially recognized as sanctuary keeper with full authority to provide medical care, training, and refuge to any pack member who needs it. I stopped walking, certain I’d misheard.

What? You saved 17 lives during that attack, Celeste. 17 wolves who would have died without your intervention. You organized chaos into order, turned frightened teenagers into effective helpers, and proved that strength comes in many forms. He smiled, the expression warm and genuine. The pack sees that now, most of them, anyway.

 Drake and his supporters are a minority, and their influence is waning. I don’t understand, I whispered. I’m just I’m nobody. And rejected Omega, who you’re the sanctuary keeper, Thorne interrupted firmly. You’re the wolf who kept Marcus alive, who stood up to Vera, who ran toward danger instead of away from it. You’re the wolf who reminded this pack what compassion looks like. That’s not nobody, Celeste. That’s a leader.

 The word hit me like lightning. Leader. Me. the Omega, who’d been deemed too weak to matter, too soft to survive, now being called a leader by an elder of the pack. There will be a ceremony in three days, Thorne continued. A formal recognition of your position and authority.

 Damian has insisted you be given full council protection, which was approved unanimously. You’ll be untouchable, Celeste. Official pack. Tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. Official pack. The thing I’d wanted so desperately three years ago, the acceptance I’d mourned losing. Now it was being offered freely, earned through my actions rather than my presentation.

 I don’t know what to say, I managed through the tears. Say yes, Thorne replied gently. Say you’ll accept this responsibility and continue building something that can change our pack for the better. Yes, I said, my voice growing stronger. Yes, I accept. The ceremony 3 days later was unlike anything I’d experienced. The entire pack gathered in the central clearing.

 Hundreds of wolves in both human and animal form, creating a sea of bodies and energy. I stood at the center wearing a simple dress the unit had given me. My blonde hair braided with flowers by the teenagers who’d become my unlikely assistance. Elder Thorne conducted the ritual, speaking words of recognition and acceptance that washed over me like healing water.

 When he asked if anyone objected to my appointment, Drake stood, but so did dozens of others, drowning out his protest with their support. “Who speaks for Celeste?” Thorne called, the traditional question echoing across the clearing. “I do.” Damian stepped forward, magnificent in his formal leathers, his authority undeniable.

 As unit leader and alpha, I claim Celeste’s pack, as sanctuary keeper, and as mine to protect. The possessive claim made my breath catch, especially when his golden eyes met mine with an intensity that spoke of more than just duty. I speak for her, Rowan added, stepping forward as healer and witness to her skill.

 I speak for her, Ezra said, his sharp smile directed at Drake. As warrior and friend, I speak for her, Silas finished. As packmate and ally, four powerful voices claiming me, defending me, choosing me. The moment felt surreal, like stepping into a dream I’d never dared to have. Then it is decided, Thorne declared. Celeste is recognized as sanctuary keeper with all rights and protections afforded to council appointed positions.

 Let any who would challenge this speak now or accept it as law. Silence. Even Drake said nothing, his face purple with suppressed rage, but ultimately powerless against the pack’s collective will. Welcome home, Celeste, Thorne said, and the pack erupted in howls, a sound of acceptance, of celebration, of belonging.

 I stood there crying openly while Marcus, now nearly full grown, pressed against my side and the unit surrounded me in a protective circle. This was real. This was happening. I was home. The celebration lasted into the night, but eventually I found myself alone with Damian on the sanctuary’s porch, watching the stars emerge one by one. “How does it feel?” he asked quietly.

 “Being official?” Surreal, I admitted like I’m going to wake up and find out it was all a dream. It’s real, he assured me, his hand finding mine in the darkness. You’re real. What you’ve built here is real. The lives you’ve saved. The change you’ve sparked. All real. I turned to look at him. This massive, dangerous man who’d seen something worth protecting in a rejected Omega.

 I couldn’t have done any of it without you. Without all of you, maybe. he conceded. But you’re the one who chose to try. You’re the one who stood up when it would have been easier to stay down. That was all you, Celeste. His thumb traced circles on my palm. The touch sending electricity through my entire body.

 The tension that had been building between us for weeks felt ready to snap, to transform into something neither of us could take back. Damian, I whispered. What Ezra said about you looking at me, is it true? He was quiet for a long moment, his jaw working like he was choosing words carefully. From the moment I saw you holding Marcus, protecting him even though you were terrified, I knew you were different, special.

I thought it was just respect, admiration for your courage. He turned fully to face me, his golden eyes intense in the moonlight. But it’s more than that. You’ve become essential to me, Celeste. To all of us, yes, but to me specifically. I can’t imagine this pack, this life without you in it. My heart thundered against my ribs.

I feel it too, I confessed. This pull between us like I was waiting my whole life to find you, even when I didn’t know I was looking. He kept my face with both hands, his touch reverent. I want to court you properly, the traditional way, with intention and respect. You deserve that. Deserve someone who sees your worth and honors it. Yes, I breathed yes to all of it.

 He leaned in slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull away, but I met him halfway. Our lips touched softly carefully like we were both afraid of breaking something precious. But then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepened into something hungry and claiming and absolutely right.

 When we finally broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against mine. You’re mine,” he murmured. “If you’ll have me, not as protector or unit leader, but as mate, as partner, as the person who sees you and chooses you every single day, I’m yours,” I agreed, the words feeling like a vow. “And you’re mine.” The bond snapped into place between us.

 Not the forced connection of traditional mating, but something chosen, something earned through trust and respect and genuine care. It settled into my chest like coming home, like finding the missing piece I hadn’t known I’d lost. We sat there for hours, wrapped in each other, talking about everything and nothing, making plans for the sanctuary’s expansion, sharing stories from our pasts, dreaming about a future that suddenly felt possible instead of terrifying.

As dawn approached, painting the sky in shades of hope, I realized something profound. I’d spent 3 years thinking rejection had broken me, that being cast out had made me less. But it had actually been preparation. Every lonely night had taught me self-reliance. Every moment of pain had built compassion. Every instance of being deemed worthless had shown me the value of seeing worth in others.

 I hadn’t been broken. I’d been forged. And now, surrounded by a unit that had become family, leading a sanctuary that helped the vulnerable find strength, claimed by a male who saw my worth and cherished it. Now I was exactly who I was meant to be. Marcus bounded up the steps, nearly knocking us over with his enthusiasm.

 He was strong now, healthy and happy, a living testament to what compassion could achieve. More pups would come, I knew. more injured wolves, more lost souls looking for a place to belong. And we would be here building something better, something kinder, something that proved strength came in many forms.

 “Ready for today?” Damian asked as the sun crested the horizon, flooding the world with golden light. I looked at the sanctuary, my sanctuary, then at the village beyond where pack members were starting their day. I thought about the teenagers who now trained with purpose. The parents who no longer feared for their different children. The countless lives that had been touched by choosing compassion over cruelty.

 Ready? I said, standing with Damian’s hand in mine. Let’s go change the world. And we did. One day at a time, one wolf at a time, one act of kindness at a time. The sanctuary grew into something magnificent. Not just a building, but a movement. a proof that the rejected could become essential, that the weak could become strong, that choosing compassion was the bravest thing anyone could do.

Years later, when I stood before the pack as Damian’s recognized mate and the sanctuary had become a cornerstone of pack culture, I would remember that morning when everything changed. When four black wolves pulled up to my cabin and offered me a choice, stay in isolation or risk being hurt again. I chose risk. I chose hope.

 I chose to believe I was worth more than the pack’s initial judgment. And in choosing myself, I found everything I’d never dared to dream of. Purpose, family, love, and a belonging so deep, it had become woven into my very soul. The rejected omega who’d fed a starving pup had become the sanctuary keeper who saved lives and changed minds. She’d become the maid of a powerful alpha who chose her freely and loved her fiercely.

She’d become a leader who proved that compassion was strength, that vulnerability was courage, that being different was a gift rather than a curse. She’d become whole, and she’d never be invisible again.