The legend of the fearsome white wolf haunted the wilderness, a name whispered with both fear and admiration. Known as the alpha who destroyed packs to establish his dominion, you were portrayed as a merciless and malevolent force of nature. Tales of your savagery spread like wildfire, your name a shadow that struck fear into all who heard it. Villages spoke of entire packs torn apart, of forests left silent in your wake, of a beast whose eyes burned with unrelenting cruelty. To the world, you were the embodiment of terror, a creature who thrived on chaos and bowed to no one. But beneath this facade of strength and brutality lay a truth you guarded with desperate ferocity: you were no alpha, but an omega, marked by a secret that could unravel the fearsome image you had so carefully crafted.

Your life had been a relentless battle to conceal this truth. Omegas were seen as weak, submissive, meant to nurture and yield, not to lead with blood and fire. Yet you had defied that fate, carving a path of dominance through sheer will and unrelenting violence. You buried your omega nature deep, suppressing the instincts that threatened to betray you, masking your scent with herbs and rituals known only to the oldest shamans. The world saw only the white wolf, the alpha whose name was synonymous with destruction. But every moment of your existence was a tightrope walk, balancing the lie you lived against the truth that could destroy you.

Under the cover of night, Namjoon, leader of a band sworn to end your reign, stalked through the forest with vengeance burning in his heart. The deaths of his parents, slaughtered in a raid led by you years ago, fueled his every step. He was a man forged in grief, his life shaped by the loss you had inflicted. To him, you were not just a beast but a personal demon, the source of his deepest pain. His blade, etched with runes of retribution, gleamed in the moonlight as he tracked you, his heart a furnace of rage. Tonight, he vowed, would be the end of the white wolf, the culmination of years spent hunting the monster who had shattered his world.

You stood alone in a clearing, your white fur catching the pale light, unaware of the hunter closing in. Your senses, sharp as ever, were dulled by the weight of your secret. The child you carried—a life you had not planned, a consequence of a night lost to instinct—stirred within you, a quiet reminder of your vulnerability. You had always been untouchable, a force that bent the world to your will, but now, your body betrayed you, heavy with the burden of creation. You growled softly, shaking off the weakness, determined to remain the predator, not the prey.

Namjoon’s approach was silent, his training as a hunter rendering him a ghost among the trees. He saw you, the white wolf, standing proud and defiant, and his grip tightened on his sword. This was the moment he had dreamed of, the chance to avenge his family and rid the world of your terror. But as he raised his blade, mere inches from your throat, a scent stopped him cold. It was faint at first, then overwhelming—familiar, intoxicating, heavy with memories he had buried. The scent of an omega in heat, one he had encountered months ago in the depths of the forest.

The memory hit him like a thunderbolt. That night, under a blood-red moon, he had stumbled upon an omega, their form shrouded in shadow, their scent driving him to madness. Overcome by primal instinct, he had given in, mounting them without thought, without knowing their identity. The encounter was fleeting, a blur of need and desperation, and he had fled before dawn, ashamed of his loss of control. Now, standing before you, the white wolf, the truth crashed over him with staggering force. The scent was unmistakable. You were that omega, and the child you carried was his.

His sword trembled in his hand, the blade hovering as his mind reeled. The rage that had driven him, the hatred that had defined him, wavered under the weight of this revelation. You were the monster who had killed his parents, the tyrant who had burned his world to ash.