An Omega's Price to Save Her Pack

The Foster Pack was struck by disaster, and the only one who stepped forward to help was Lycan Prince Yousef Perry.

In my past life, Yousef had been captivated by my elder sister Solana’s scent, a unique blend of jasmine and wild berries:

"If you come with me to my pack, the females of the Foster Pack will be spared from slavery," he said, his voice commanding, his Alpha aura pressing down on us like a storm.

It was Solana’s reckless words that had doomed our pack, but when given a chance to make amends, she clung to her pride and refused to bend:

"Even if every female in our pack is enslaved, I will not beg for a man’s mercy like some weakling!"

Yousef sneered, his Alpha tone sharp and dismissive, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned away. The last hope for the Foster Pack was extinguished.

That winter, the females of our pack were exiled to the northern territories as slaves.

During the journey, my elder brother Noah, a Delta in the Foster Pack, arrived with twenty of his most loyal warriors to rescue us.

The snow was falling heavily, and the guards tasked with escorting us were careless. Noah and his men attacked from the rear, silently taking out two guards with their claws before freeing the women one by one.

Everything was going smoothly—until Solana suddenly shouted:

"Help! Someone’s trying to free the prisoners!"

The guards snapped to attention, shifting into their wolf forms as chaos erupted. In the fray, our grandmother threw herself in front of Noah to protect him, only to be struck down by a guard’s claws.

I tried to lead everyone east, but Solana yanked hard on the chains binding our ankles. The chains connected us all, and with her pull, every woman in our pack fell into the snow, helpless against the guards’ brutality.

By the time reinforcements arrived, Noah’s men were dead or dying, and Noah himself was struck down by a hail of arrows.

With his last breath, Noah grabbed Solana’s sleeve and demanded, "Why?"

Why had she sabotaged his attempt to save our family?

Solana looked down at him with disdain.

"Because I refuse to be saved by a man!

"Women who rely on men are weaklings!

"I’d rather see the females of the Foster Pack enslaved for generations than have them saved by the likes of you!"

Noah died with fury in his eyes, blood staining the snow around him, while Solana stood there, her expression cold and unyielding.

Of the exiled women, only Solana and I survived. The others had either been killed in the chaos or struck down by arrows.

The guards were about to drag us away when an arrow pierced the skull of their leader.

A man emerged from the storm, his figure imposing, dressed in a black fur cloak that marked him as someone of high status. He rode a powerful stallion, his scent—a mix of pine and leather—cutting through the cold air.

"I admire your words," he said, his voice deep and resonant as he used his longbow to tilt Solana’s chin upward.

"Such independence and fire. You’d make a fitting mate."

We were near the border, and the man’s opulent attire and confident demeanor made it clear he was no ordinary wolf. The scar running through his brow identified him as Preston Russell, Alpha of the Russell Pack.

I expected Solana, who prided herself on her independence, to recoil from his touch and his words. If she had, I might have respected her for staying true to her ideals.

But she didn’t. She grasped the end of his bow and said,

"You want to claim me?

"I will never submit to a man…

"Unless you make me your Luna."

Preston laughed, a rich, booming sound, and stepped down from his horse. With a swift motion, he pulled Solana into his arms, and she melted against him, her posture soft and submissive—exactly the kind of woman she claimed to despise.