In the lowlands of the kingdom of Silvermore, where the werewolf hierarchy was as rigid as the laws of nature, there existed a universally accepted truth. Omegas were the weakest, the least valuable, those destined to serve and never to lead.

 Among the Omegas, there were those who at least had families, connections to packs that protected them despite their low status. And then there were those like Elena Ashford, the forgotten ones, the abandoned, those so irrelevant that even other omegas avoided them. Elena was 26 years old, though she looked younger due to the chronic malnourishment that had marked her life.

 She was small, even by omega standards, with light brown hair that never had a healthy shine, and gray eyes that had long ago lost any spark of hope. She had been rejected by her own pack at 15 when her parents died. Deemed too much of a burden to carry during difficult times.

 Since then, she had lived on the margins of werewolf society, moving from village to village, accepting any work nobody else wanted, sleeping wherever she could find shelter. Currently, Elellena lived in an abandoned shed on the outskirts of Silver Hill Village, a small community that marked the border between werewolf territory and the wildlands beyond. She worked doing tasks that even bas considered beneath their dignity.

 Washing clothes in the icy river, cleaning stables, carrying water to houses that had no servants of their own. In exchange, she received scraps of food, sometimes a coin or two that she saved carefully, and the implicit permission to continue existing on the fringes of a society that had made clear it didn’t want her.

 The werewolves of Silver Hill barely acknowledged Elena’s existence. She had learned to make herself practically invisible, keeping her eyes down, never speaking unless spoken to, moving through the streets like a ghost. It was safer that way. Omegas who drew attention to themselves often suffered abuse.

 Not necessarily physical violence, as even werewolf society had laws, but humiliation, casual cruelty, constant reminders of how little they were worth. It was during one of her rare free hours on a gray autumn afternoon that Elena’s life changed forever. She was in the forest beyond the village collecting firewood. Even fallen wood was valuable commodity she could trade for food.

 The forest was a place most werewolves avoided, as it marked the border with contested territory where human hunters and rogue werewolf groups sometimes clashed. But Elena had little to lose, and the forest offered resources nobody else was willing to seek. She was dragging a particularly large branch when she heard it. A faint sound almost imperceptible beneath the wind in the trees.

 It was a whimper, low and filled with pain. Elena froze, her heart racing. Wounded animals were dangerous. And though she could transform into wolf form like all werewolves, her form was small and weak, unable to defend against real predators. But something about the sound pulled at her.

 It wasn’t the whimper of an ordinary animal. There was a human quality to it, intelligence and suffering that spoke of something more. Against all her self-preservation instincts, Elena found herself following the sound, moving carefully through the underbrush. What she found made her gasp in horror. In a small clearing, half hidden by bushes, lay an enormous wolf. It was magnificent, even in its injured state.

 Dark silver fur that gleamed even in the weak light, powerful musculature that spoke of extraordinary strength. But what caught Elena’s attention was not its size or beauty, but the arrows. There were three of them embedded deep in its flank and hind leg, and the arrowheads had a metallic gleam that Elena recognized with growing dread.

Silver. The hunters had used silver tipped arrows. For werewolves, silver was poison. It burned their flesh in ways that didn’t heal naturally, spread toxins through their systems that could kill them slowly and agonizingly. This wolf was dying. No question about it. She could already see how its flank rose and fell with labored breathing, how its eyes, a deep unusual golden color, were beginning to glaze over. Elena should have walked away. She should have let nature take its course.

 An omega like her had no business getting involved with a wounded and possibly dangerous werewolf, especially one so clearly powerful. Its size alone suggested it was an alpha, perhaps even a highranking alpha. And alphas had no patience for omegas, particularly forgotten omegas with no pack to protect them. But Elena couldn’t walk away. Not when she saw another living being in agony.

 Not when she had skills that could help. Because though she was a forgotten omega, rejected and invisible, there was one thing Elena knew how to do well. Her mother, before dying, had been a healer. and she had taught Elena everything she knew about medicinal plants, about how to treat wounds, about ancient healing techniques that went beyond simple medicine.

 So Elena forced herself to move closer, fighting against the fear that made her hands tremble. The wolf turned its head to watch her approach, and for a moment their eyes met. There was awareness in that gaze, intelligence that confirmed what she already knew. This was no ordinary animal, but a werewolf trapped in wolf form, perhaps too injured to transform back.

 Elena spoke softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. She told the wolf she wanted to help, that she wouldn’t hurt it, that she needed to remove the silver arrows before the poison spread further. She didn’t expect it to understand, but something in those golden eyes suggested it did, and more, that it was giving permission.

 With trembling hands, Elena began the delicate work of examining the arrows. Two were in its flank, one piercing muscle, but not hitting vital organs. The third was in its hind leg, and seemed to have struck bone. Removing it would be agonizing, and the wolf might very well attack her out of pure pain reflex, but leaving them meant certain death.

 Elena didn’t have proper tools, no surgical tweezers, no antiseptics, none of the supplies a proper healer would have. She had only her hands, her knowledge, and a determination born of compassion she couldn’t suppress. First, she needed to gather supplies from what the forest offered. She left the wolf momentarily, moving quickly to collect what she needed.

 Moss that could be used to staunch bleeding, leaves from a specific plant her mother had taught her had properties that partially neutralized silver poison, and branches she could use as makeshift levers. When she returned to the clearing, the wolf hadn’t moved. Its eyes followed her as she knelt beside it. And Elena could see pain in them, but also something more.

Trust perhaps, or simply resignation. It had clearly decided that if it was going to die, it preferred to die with someone trying to help rather than alone and abandoned. Elellena began with the arrow in the leg, as it was the most difficult, and she wanted to finish it while she still had strength.

 She explained in a low voice what she was going to do, more to calm herself than to inform him. Then, with infinite care but firm movement, she began to work the arrow out. The wolf shuddered violently when she moved the arrow, a low wine escaping its throat. But it didn’t pull away, didn’t try to bite her.

 It simply endured, and Elena felt tears burning in her eyes at the absolute courage of it. It took precious time. Time during which she could see the silver poison spreading through his system, making his breathing shallower, his strength visibly diminishing. But finally, the first arrow came out, and Elena immediately pressed the medicinal leaves against the wound, using her own weight to apply pressure and stop the bleeding. The wolf trembled beneath her, but remained still.

 The next two arrows were slightly easier, though no less distressing. With each one she removed, Elena applied the medicinal leaves, then covered the wounds with moss to keep them clean. It wasn’t proper treatment. He needed a real healer. Herbs and tinctures she didn’t have access to. But it was better than nothing.

 And at least she had removed the source of the poisoning. When she finally finished, Elena was exhausted, her clothes stained with blood, her hands trembling from effort and delayed reaction to what she had done. She sat back, watching the wolf anxiously. He was breathing more easily now, though still clearly in considerable pain.

 His eyes had closed, and for one terrible moment, Elena thought he had died. But then she saw the subtle movement of his flank rising and falling, and knew he still lived. What to do now was the question. Elena couldn’t carry him. He was enormous, easily, weighing several times more than her. She couldn’t leave him here unprotected.

 There were predators in the forest that would smell the blood and come investigating, and she couldn’t call for help. explaining why she had saved an unknown wolf would raise questions she didn’t want to answer, especially since, as an omega, she shouldn’t have taken on such a task without permission from superiors. She decided to stay.

 She had little hope that the wolf would survive the night, not with so much silver poison in his system, but she couldn’t bear the idea of leaving him to die alone. So she gathered more fallen branches and built a small fire, not large enough to attract unwanted attention, but enough to provide some warmth against the cold that would come with night. Then she settled beside the wolf, keeping vigil. The hours passed slowly.

 Night fell, bringing with it a biting cold that made Elena huddle closer to the fire. She fed the flames periodically, keeping them low but steady, and she watched the wolf, monitoring his breathing, checking his wounds when she dared, offering water from her own canteen by gently placing it against his closed muzzle.

 It was in the early hours before dawn that it happened. Elena had dozed despite herself, exhausted from the day and the tension of keeping watch. She woke to a sensation of warmth beside her, but it was different warmth from the fire. She opened her eyes sleepily and what she saw made her freeze completely. The wolf was changing.

 It was transforming back to human form and the transformation was unlike anything Elellena had ever witnessed. Normally werewolf transformations were quick, fluid, almost instantaneous. But this was slow, almost laborious, as if the wolf’s body was struggling to make the change. With the silver poison still in its system, bones shifted and reformed. fur receded to reveal skin, limbs elongated and rearranged.

 Elena looked away by instinct, knowing that werewolves emerged from their transformations naked, and to look without permission was a grave insult, especially coming from an omega. But she had seen enough to know that the man emerging from wolf form was large, muscular, and even wounded, emanated a presence that made the air seem heavier.

 When the sounds of transformation finally ceased, Elellena dared to look again. The man lay where the wolf had been, unconscious, his body covered in sweat from the effort of the change. She quickly removed her own cloak, thin and patched as it was, and covered him as best she could, preserving his modesty.

 Then she moved away respectfully, keeping close to the fire, but giving him space. He didn’t wake with the transformation, and Elena began to worry that perhaps he never would. But she continued her vigil, now watching not a wolf, but a man who was even more intimidating in human form. She could see old scars crossing his skin where the cloak didn’t cover, marks of a warrior, of someone who had fought and survived many battles, and even unconscious.

 There was something in his features, a quality of authority and power that made Elena’s stomach tighten with apprehension. Who was he? Clearly, he wasn’t an ordinary werewolf. His size in wolf form, the power he emanated, even wounded, all suggested he was a high-ranking alpha, but from which pack? And how had he ended up alone in the forest, pursued by hunters with silver weapons? The question swirled in Elena’s mind as the sun slowly rose, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

 She allowed herself to look at his face in the morning light, and her heart clenched. He was handsome in a severe way, with strong features and black hair that fell in disheveled waves to his shoulders.

 There were streaks of silver at his temples that suggested age and wisdom, though he couldn’t be more than 35 years old. It was when his eyes opened that Elena’s world turned completely upside down. The eyes that met hers were the same deep gold Elena had seen in wolf form, but in a human face they carried even greater intensity.

 For a moment, he simply looked at her, confusion passing over his features as he clearly tried to process where he was and who this small, frightened person crouched near him was. Then awareness seemed to return fully, and he tried to sit up, moving with the urgency of someone accustomed to being in control and never vulnerable. Pain stopped him.

 He gasped, one hand instinctively going to the wounds in his side, and Elellanena moved before she could stop herself. She reached him, her small hands gently but firmly pushing him back down. It was an incredibly bold act, an omega touching an alpha without permission. But she was operating on healer’s instinct now, not social protocol. He froze under her touch, surprise clear on his face.

 Then his eyes swept over her, taking in her appearance. The patched clothes, the thinness that spoke of chronic hunger, the way she kept her eyes down even as she touched him, the classic marks of a low status omega. Elena could practically see the calculations happening behind those golden eyes, trying to understand why an omega was in the forest alone, why she had helped him, what this meant. Elena forced herself to speak, her voice coming out in a trembling whisper.

 She briefly explained what had happened, how she had found him wounded, how she had removed the silver arrows, how she had stayed through the night ensuring he survived. She didn’t mention that he had transformed during the night. didn’t speak of how her heart had raced seeing his human form.

 She simply presented the facts plainly and directly, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground, as was appropriate for someone of her status. When she finished, silence fell between them. Elena could feel the weight of his gaze on her, studying, evaluating. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was deep and resonant, carrying authority that made her Omega blood want to submit instinctively. He asked her name, her pack, why she was alone in the forest.

Elena answered in a low voice, speaking truth because she didn’t know how to lie convincingly. She gave her name, admitted she had no pack, that she was a forgotten omega living on the margins of Silver Hill Village. She didn’t elaborate. There was no need to burden him with the sad story of rejection and survival. The facts were sufficient.

 She saw surprise cross his features when he heard she had no pack. Packless werewolves were rare. Even omegas normally found some group to accept them, even if in survile positions. To be completely alone, as Elena was, was practically unheard of. But he didn’t comment on it.

 Instead, asking questions about his wounds, about the treatment she had applied, about how long he had been unconscious. Elena answered each question as best she could, explaining about the leaves that partially neutralized silver poison, about the moss she had used to staunch bleeding, about how she had stayed awake all night keeping watch.

 And as she spoke, she couldn’t help but notice how he listened, not with the casual disdain most alphas showed when hearing omegas, but with genuine attention that made her feel strangely valued. When she finished, he was quiet for a long moment, clearly processing everything. Then he said something that made Elellena’s world stop.

 He gave his name, Darius Stormclaw, and the title that accompanied it. He was the alpha king of Silvermore, supreme ruler of all werewolves in the kingdom, the most powerful werewolf in all the land, leader of thousands, the one whose word was absolute law. And she, a forgotten Omega, who could barely obtain food scraps, had saved him, had touched royalty, had seen the Alpha King naked and vulnerable, had had the audacity to treat him like any normal patient who needed care. The complete absurdity of it, the absolute danger she had inadvertently placed herself in, hit

Elena like a physical blow. She began to tremble, not from cold, but from delayed fear and understanding of how far she had overstepped social boundaries. Darius must have noticed her reaction because his expression softened slightly, he said in a tone that carried less command and more genuine kindness.

That he wasn’t angry. That she had saved his life when she had no obligation to do so. When it would have been safer for her to simply pass by and pretend she had seen nothing, that he owed her a debt he couldn’t easily repay. But then his expression hardened again when he asked the question Elena dreaded.

 He asked who knew he was here, who knew she had helped him. The question wasn’t casual. There was urgency in it, tension that spoke of danger Elena didn’t fully understand. Elena answered honestly that nobody knew, that she had come to the forest alone, that nobody in the village paid enough attention to her to notice her absence, that she hadn’t told anyone because she had nobody to tell.

 She saw relief cross Darius’s face hearing this, and curiosity grew in her. Why was the Alpha King alone in the forest, wounded by hunters? Where was his guard, his pack, all those who should protect him? As if reading her thoughts, Darius began to explain. His voice was heavy with weariness and something else, anger perhaps, or deep disappointment.

 He told her about betrayal, about how he had been lured into an ambush by someone he trusted, a member of his own council who sought to seize the throne. Human hunters had been hired to kill him, and through sheer chance and fighting skill, he had escaped, but not without grave injuries. He couldn’t return to his capital immediately.

 The traitor would expect that, would have set more traps. He needed time to heal, to gather loyal allies, to plan his return in a way the traitor couldn’t anticipate. But he was wounded, weakened by silver poison, vulnerable in ways a king should never be. until Elena appeared and offered help. She had no reason to give.

 As Elena absorbed this story, a strange feeling grew in her. There was something deeply tragic about the fact that the most powerful being in all their world was reduced to this, hiding in the forest, dependent on a forgotten omega for survival.

 But there was also something that resonated with her because in a sense they were both outcasts now. He temporarily forced to the margins by betrayal. she permanently confined there by the society that had rejected her. Darius then asked if she could help him, if she could bring him supplies, food, water, perhaps clothes, while he recovered strength enough to make proper plans.

 He couldn’t appear in any village or town without risking that news of his whereabouts would reach the traitor. But Elena, being invisible as she was, could move without arousing suspicion. Elena should have refused. Every self-preservation instinct screamed that getting more involved with this, helping the Alpha King when there were factions fighting for the throne, was a sure way to end up dead in political turmoil she didn’t understand.

 But when she looked into those golden eyes, she saw not the powerful king, but the wounded wolf who had whimpered in pain, the creature who had trusted her when he was at his most vulnerable. So she said yes. She would agree to help him, bring what she could, keep his presence secret, not from obligation or fear, but because it seemed like the right thing to do. Because for the first time in her life, someone needed her.

Not just her work, but her help specifically, her skills as a healer, and her ability to move unnoticed. In the days that followed, Elena established a careful routine. Early in the morning, before the village fully awakened, she rushed through her usual tasks with uncommon speed. She washed clothes in the river faster than the few people who noticed would expect, cleaned stables in record time, carried water as if her life depended on it, and then, when nobody was paying attention, which was often, since who cared what a forgotten Omega did, she disappeared into the forest. She brought everything

she could gather without raising suspicion. Bread she bought with her scarce coins, telling the baker she was stocking up for winter. Fruit she collected at the village edges where wild trees grew ownerless. Fresh water from her own canteen filled at the clean river before it was polluted by village activities.

 Even clothing, an old tunic she had found abandoned. Patched trousers someone had thrown away. They weren’t clothes worthy of a king, but they were clean and whole, better than nothing. Darius remained in the clearing where she had found him, moving only as necessary to stay hidden should anyone pass nearby.

 His wounds healed slowly, more slowly than normal for a werewolf due to the silver poison still working through his system. Elena brought the herbs she knew to speed healing, applied fresh picuses daily, monitored each wound for signs of infection, and they talked. At first, it was just practical exchanges.

 Darius asking about the situation in the village, whether anyone showed suspicion of her absences, whether there was news traveling about a missing king, Elena answering with simple observations, reports of what she saw and heard in Silver Hill streets. But gradually, the conversations deepened. Darius began asking questions about her, her life, her past, how she had ended up alone.

 Elena, never having had someone who genuinely interested themselves in her story, found herself sharing more than she intended. She spoke about her parents, about her packs rejection, about years of wandering from place to place, always on the margins, always invisible. And Darius listened with attention Elena had never experienced from anyone.

 He didn’t interrupt, didn’t judge, simply absorbed each word as if it were important, as if she were important. And then surprisingly he began sharing his own stories. Not the grand tales of royal conquests or political decisions, but more personal stories about his own sense of isolation despite being constantly surrounded by people.

 About the weight of expectations that came with being Alpha King, about the loneliness that came from never being able to fully trust anyone because there were always those who sought to use his position for personal gain. There was a strange intimacy to these whispered conversations in the forest clearing.

 Two beings who should be at opposite ends of the social hierarchy, brought together by unlikely circumstances. Discovering that despite all differences, they shared fundamental experiences of loneliness and desire for genuine connection. Elena began noticing changes in herself. The way her heart raced when she arrived at the clearing each day, the anticipation she felt thinking about seeing Darius again. the way her eyes sought his when they spoke.

These were dangerous feelings, impossible even. She was a forgotten omega, and he was the alpha king. There was no world where such a connection could exist beyond these stolen moments in the forest. But the heart didn’t obey logic or social hierarchy.

 And Elena realized with growing concern that she was falling in love, not with his position or power. She could barely process what it meant to be Alpha King. It was a concept too distant from her lived reality. She was falling in love with the man she saw everyday. The one who thanked her for each simple meal she brought as if it were a feast. Who asked her opinion about healing herbs as if her knowledge were valuable.

 Who looked at her as if she were a person instead of just an unimportant omega. And sometimes when she caught Darius watching her with an expression she couldn’t decipher, Elena dared to imagine that perhaps, just perhaps, he felt something, too. It was a ridiculous thought she knew, but she couldn’t help wondering.

 It was in the second week after finding him that Darius announced he was strong enough to travel. His wounds had healed enough to allow transformation without danger, and he needed to begin gathering his loyal allies, planning his return to power. He couldn’t remain hidden indefinitely.

 Each day that passed, the traitor consolidated control and spread lies about what had happened to the king. The news hit Elena harder than she expected. She knew this moment would come. Had known from the beginning that this situation was temporary. But having to face the reality that Darius would leave, that she would probably never see him again made something ache deeply in her chest.

 She forced herself to smile, to say she was glad he was well enough to leave, that she hoped he would safely reclaim his throne. Her voice sounded false even to her own ears. But Darius didn’t comment. Instead, he did something unexpected. He asked her to come with him.

 Elena thought she had heard wrong, she repeated the question stupidly, unable to process what he was suggesting. Darius explained patiently that she was in danger now. If anyone in the village discovered she had helped the king, if the traitor somehow learned about her, she would be a target. Besides, he owed her a life debt he couldn’t repay.

 He wanted to offer her a place in his court, a position as royal healer perhaps, where her talents would be valued and she would have protection that clearly lacked in her current life. It was a generous offer, more than Elena had ever dreamed possible, but it was also completely terrifying. She had no experience with royal courts, with politics or protocol.

 She was an omega who could barely read, whose skills were limited to washing clothes and herbal knowledge she had learned from her mother. She would stand out terribly, probably make mistakes that would embarrass her and him. But when she looked at Darius, she saw something in his eyes that made her heart leap. It wasn’t just obligation or gratitude. There was something warmer there.

 Something that looked like hope or perhaps longing. And she realized that maybe, just maybe, he also felt the connection between them. Also wanted to prolong what they had shared these two weeks. Elena made the decision that would change her life forever. She said yes. She would go with him, not knowing where it led, not knowing what the future held, but trusting this man who had seen value in her when nobody else did. The journey began the next morning. Elellanena had no possessions to pack.

Everything she owned fit in the pocket of her worn tunic. Darius transformed to wolf form. His wounds healed enough to allow the change, though Elena could see it still caused him discomfort. And then they departed deeper into the forest toward territory where Darius’s loyal allies waited. The journey took days.

 Darius in wolf form could have traveled much faster, but he kept to a pace Elena could manage, often slowing when he saw she was tired. At night, he transformed back to discuss plans and strategy, and Elena marveled at the trust he showed sharing such information with her, as if her opinion mattered.

 During the journey, Elena saw a side of Darius she never imagined an Alpha King could have, he hunted for both of them. Dividing his catch equally, despite her insistence she needed less, he found the most comfortable places for her to sleep, often standing guard through the night to ensure she was safe. And when she stumbled or struggled with difficult terrain, he was there to support her.

 His strength lent so naturally as if it were no big thing. On the fourth day of travel, they reached a hidden encampment deep in the mountains. a safe haven where warriors loyal to Darius had gathered after news of his supposed death reached the capital. The moment Darius emerged from the trees in wolf form, transforming back to human form before the astonished eyes of his followers, was one of pure joy and celebration. The king was not dead.

 He had survived the betrayal and now returned to reclaim what was rightfully his. But the celebration quickly turned to confusion when they realized Darius wasn’t alone. Suspicious looks turned to Elena, who shrank instinctively under the scrutiny of so many powerful werewolves.

 Who was this Omega? Why had the king brought her to the secret encampment? Could she be a spy for the traitor? Darius silenced all objections with authority that permitted no questioning. He declared that Elena Ashford had saved his life, that he owed her a debt that could never be fully repaid, and that anyone who disrespected her would answer to him personally.

 His voice carried the power of alpha command that made even the most experienced warriors lower their heads in submission. Then he did something that shocked everyone present, including Elena. He declared she would be recognized as the king’s personal healer, a position of honor that would normally be reserved only for highranking werewolves.

 More than that, he announced that while she remained under his protection, she would have status that transcended her Omega designation. She would be treated with the respect due to someone who had saved the king’s life, and anyone who violated this decree would face his displeasure. It was an unprecedented proclamation.

 Werewolves didn’t change status simply by decree. Hierarchy was based on inherent strength, on biology, not political favors. But nobody dared argue with the Alpha King, especially one who clearly felt deeply about this matter. Elena was given her own tent in the encampment. Simple but private, more comfortable accommodation than she’d had in years.

 She received proper clothing, not the fine garments of nobility, but clean, well-made pieces that made her feel almost human again. And most importantly, she received respect. Not the enthusiastic respect that came from genuine admiration, perhaps, but at least the civil courtesy of werewolves who didn’t dare challenge their king’s explicit command.

 In the weeks that followed, Elellena found herself in a completely alien world. She attended to the wounded in the encampment, using her healing skills on warriors who returned from reconnaissance missions or skirmishes with forces loyal to the traitor. She learned the names of proper remedies that corresponded to the herbs she knew, studied more advanced techniques taught by other healers in the camp, who initially resented her presence, but gradually began to respect her ability, and she saw Darius always.

He consulted her about his warriors injuries, asked her opinion on healing strategies for planned battles, simply appeared at her tent at night to talk as they had in the forest. In these private moments when it was just the two of them, the masks fell away. He wasn’t the Alpha King and she wasn’t the Omega.

 They were just Darius and Elena, two souls who had found connection in impossible circumstances. It was during one of these nights, almost 2 months after she had found him in the forest, that everything changed. Darius had come to her tent after a particularly difficult day.

 Reports had arrived that the traitor was planning a formal coronation, attempting to legitimize his usurppation of the throne. Time was running out and Darius would need to act soon or risk losing support completely. They sat side by side on the tent floor. A map of the capital spread between them as Darius explained the attack plans. But Elena’s mind wasn’t on the maps.

 It was on the man beside her, on the way his brow furrowed in concentration, on the way his voice became passionate when he spoke about justice and duty. And before she could stop herself, before she could remember all the reasons why it was a terrible idea, Elellena reached out and touched his hand, Darius froze, his eyes going from her hand on his to her face.

 And in the silence that followed, something passed between them, recognition of feelings both had been denying, admission of a connection that went far beyond life debt or gratitude. Darius turned his hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, and when he spoke, his voice was horsearo with emotion. and he rarely showed.

 He said she had become more important to him than she had any right to be. That thoughts of her distracted him from duties that demanded his full attention. That for the first time in his life, he understood what it meant when werewolves spoke of mates, not just partners chosen for political alliances or pack compatibility, but soul connections that transcended logic or reason.

 Elena felt tears burning in her eyes, hearing words that so completely mirrored her own feelings. But along with joy came fear. Fear that this connection, though real for both of them, couldn’t survive the realities of their worlds. He was the alpha king who would eventually need to choose a mate appropriate to his status.

 Someone who could stand beside him as queen and give him strong heirs. She was a packless omega with no lineage, with nothing to offer but herself. As if reading her thoughts, Darius gently raised her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers in a gesture so intimate it made Elellena’s heart stop.

 He said he didn’t care what tradition dictated, didn’t care what others would think. That if he chose a mate now, he would choose the woman who had saved him when she had no reason to, who had seen him at his weakest and most vulnerable and hadn’t fled, who had brought light into the darkness of his existence. They were beautiful words, and Elena wanted to believe them more than anything.

 But there was still a traitor to defeat, a kingdom to reclaim, an uncertain future that could change everything between them. The battle for the throne came 2 weeks later. It was a carefully planned confrontation. Darius and his loyal warriors infiltrating the capital during a festival the traitor had organized to celebrate his upcoming coronation.

 The fighting was fierce but relatively brief. With Darius revealing himself alive and challenging the usurper directly, most of the werewolves who had followed the traitor for lack of alternative quickly switched their loyalty back to their rightful king. Elellena didn’t participate in the battle.

 She remained at the encampment with other healers, preparing supplies to treat the wounded who would come. They were the longest hours of her life, not knowing if Darius would survive, if she would see him again. And when messengers finally arrived with news of victory, that the traitor was imprisoned, and Darius once again reigned undisputed, Elena’s relief was so intense, her knees gave way.

 The journey back to the capital was triumphant. Darius returned not just as a surviving king, but as a living legend, the one who had survived betrayal, who had refused to die, who had returned to reclaim his throne. And at his side, to the surprise and confusion of many, was Elena. not hidden or kept secret, but openly acknowledged as the one who had saved the king, as his personal healer and someone under his special protection. The royal court was initially scandalized, a packless omega, elevated to such a prominent

position. It was unprecedented, went against all tradition, but Darius faced each objection with relentless determination, making clear that anyone who challenged Elena challenged him. And then 6 months after his return, Darius made an announcement that shocked the kingdom. He declared Elellena his chosen mate, his future queen.

 Not from obligation or debt, but from choice, because she was the one his heart had chosen, the one who had seen in him not just a king, but a man. It was a decision that meant resistance. Certainly. There were those who would never accept an Omega as queen, who muttered about broken tradition and scorned hierarchy.

 But there were also those who saw the genuine love between their king and this unlikely woman, who recognized that sometimes the strongest connections come from the most unexpected places. For Elena, it was like living in a dream. The forgotten Omega, who once slept in an abandoned shed, now walked the palace corridors as the king’s recognized mate.

 She still used her healing skills, but now training others, establishing practices that would make health care accessible even to the lowest status werewolves. And at night, she slept in the arms of the man she loved, the wounded wolf she had found in the forest who had revealed himself to be her king. Years later, when Elena looked back on that day in the forest when she had stumbled upon the wolf wounded by arrows, she marveled at how life could change.

 She had been at the absolute limit of desperation, invisible and forgotten, and in one simple act of compassion, had found not just purpose, but love, not just a place, but a true home. And sometimes, on quiet nights, when it was just her and Darius. He would hold her close and whisper that she had saved him from more than just silver arrows.

 She had saved him from a life of loneliness, from a rain without heart, from a future without love. And Elena, his forgotten Omega, who had become a beloved queen, knew that they had both saved each other, finding an impossible circumstances what both had been seeking without knowing. Someone who truly saw them, loved them completely, chose them despite everything.