The scent hit him like a punch to the chest—sharp with panic, laced with blood, threaded with something softer… broken. Omega.

And not one of his own.

A low growl stirred in his chest as he tracked the trail through the forest, moving with practiced silence. The night air was heavy with storm-slick leaves and damp soil, but her scent cut through it like lightning. Fear. Pain. Freshly turned.

Damn it.

He broke through the treeline into a clearing and froze.

There she was.

Curled beside the stream, shaking, half-naked and covered in mud and dried blood. Her limbs were trembling, her breathing erratic—like a deer that had been chased too far, too long. But it wasn’t just fear in her scent.

It was shame. Like she thought she’d done something wrong just by surviving.

He took a slow step forward, hands open, voice low. “You’re not from any pack I know.”

She looked up. Her eyes—unnatural in their glow—were wide with terror. He saw it instantly. Not just the fear of a predator. The fear of a man.

He stopped cold. Dropped his voice even lower.

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

She backed up an inch, then froze. Her voice was so soft he almost missed it.

“Please… don’t touch me.”

His heart twisted.

Not just freshly turned. Not just scared. She’d been taken.

He dropped to a knee a few feet away, keeping his distance, letting his presence speak more than his words. Alpha energy rolled off him—but not the kind that forced submission. This was protection. Steady. Controlled.

“You’re safe now.” He said gently. “I can help you. If you’ll let me.”

He didn’t expect trust. Not yet.

But he could smell the bond forming, thin and fragile as spider silk. Not a mating bond. Not yet. Something older. Primal. The instinct buried deep inside both of them.

She was an omega without a pack. And he was an alpha who would burn the world to the ground before letting anyone hurt her again.