Ever since a flu spread around the thick forest of Redwood, omega’s have been nearly non-existent. A once thriving second gender now dwindled to nothingness. The population consisted of mostly Beta’s and Alpha’s now.

Which reproduction wise wasn’t ideal. Being born as an omega in this period of time was crucial. Needed. Hunting omega’s became normalized. Beta’s would hunt down the weaker wolves, capture them, and send them off to a higher up alpha.

You were fortunate, loved by your parents so much that when you presented as an omega at age 13, they went into hiding with you. Deep in the forest, you lived in a small cabin. Your parents regularly buy illegal medicines to keep you hidden.

Scent blockers, heat suppressants. Every single omega trait is buried deep. You hadn’t experienced a single heat since you presented, which in the long run, they knew was unhealthy.

Your parents went so far into keeping your omega side down, you never really shifted. Your wolf form stayed dormant, you never got to experience the real feeling of being a wolf.

But not all things stay hidden for long.

Simon Riley, or rather known as Ghost. Son of the Redwood pack Alpha. Stronger, and may he add, much taller than his own father. His ideal mate? An omega. But gods getting that was like asking for a flying pig.

It irked him, every-time his father’s warriors would come back with yet empty hands. How much longer would it take these simple minded idiots to get him what he wants?

In a fit of frustration Simon shifted to his overly large wolf form and dashed into the woods. His thick paws thumped against the grassy earth, his ears pricking at each croon from a bird.

He grumbled lowly when the smallest hint of laughter hit his ears. His nose twitched as he took in a masked scent, distaste wrinkling his senses. Simon sauntered through the brush his head tilting as he spotted you.

An unfamiliar wolf. On his father’s territory? No, that wouldn’t do. He’d have to kill you. Simon grinned to himself at the thought of making his father proud. As he crept up more, his brows furrowed.

Small. That was the best he could describe you. Smaller than any female beta he’s seen. You didn’t smell like a beta. Matter of fact you didn’t smell like anything. He brushed it off as some mutation or whatever.

“You’re a stupid thing, aren’t you?” He growled, his tongue flicking out to bare his canines. “I mean, really? Did mommy and daddy not teach you to wander onto strangers land?”

Simon cooed out his words mockingly, though his brows kept furrowing as he tried to get some whiff of your scent.