The Cursed King's Salvation: The Omega's Hidden Power

Dallas POV:

Two weeks had passed since the dinner. Two weeks of Desmond ignoring me in the hallways, and two weeks of Antone whispering sweet promises in the shadows.

Antone made me feel human. He took me on drives to the edge of the territory where we could walk in human form without being sneered at. He brought me flowers stolen from the greenhouse. He filled the void Desmond had carved out of me.

I was in Antone's room, waiting for him to finish his shower. He had left his laptop open on the bed. I moved to close it, not wanting to pry, but a notification pinged.

It was a group chat titled "The Inner Circle."

My eyes caught my name. I shouldn't have looked. I should have walked away. But my fingers moved on their own, scrolling up.

Beta_Antone: The little Omega is easier to crack than a walnut. She actually thinks I'm in love with her.

Pack_Warrior_2: Does Desmond care?

Beta_Antone: Desmond is grateful. I'm keeping his distraction busy so Chelsea doesn't smell the mate bond on him. I'm taking one for the team, boys. Besides, once I get her into bed, she'll be too ashamed to look at Desmond anyway.

Pack_Warrior_2: You're sick, man. She's practically your sister.

Beta_Antone: She's a servant. And honestly? I'm just imagining she's Chelsea. Have you seen the legs on the Taylor heiress? That’s the real prize.

The air left the room.

I backed away from the laptop, my hand covering my mouth to stifle a scream. The kindness, the flowers, the late-night talks—it was all a game. I was a pawn to protect Desmond's political marriage, and a practice doll for Antone's twisted fantasies about Chelsea.

The bathroom door creaked open. Steam billowed out, and Antone stepped into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Dallas?" He smiled, that same charming, boyish smile that had fooled me. "You look pale, sweetheart. Come here."

He reached for me.

For the first time, I really smelled him. Underneath the soap and the sandalwood, there was something else. A faint, cloying floral scent.

Chelsea's perfume.

He hadn't been in the shower alone. Or he had been with her just before coming here.

"Don't touch me," I whispered, stepping back.

Antone's smile faltered. He glanced at the laptop, then back at me. His expression shifted instantly. The warmth evaporated, replaced by the cold, arrogant sneer of a high-ranking wolf.

"You shouldn't snoop, Dallas. It's bad manners."

"You're disgusting," I spat, grabbing my bag. "You and your brother. You're both rot wrapped in silk suits."

I tried to push past him, but his hand shot out, gripping my arm like a vice. He wasn't gentle anymore. He yanked me back, throwing me onto the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Antone growled. His eyes were glassy, dilated. He was drunk on power and probably expensive scotch. "I've put in the time. I've played the nice guy. You owe me."

He climbed over me, his weight pinning me to the mattress. "Desmond doesn't want you. No one wants a broken Omega. You should be grateful I'm willing to claim you."

"Get off!" I screamed, thrashing against him. But he was a Beta. His strength was far superior to mine.

He buried his face in my neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin where a mating mark should go. "Just close your eyes," he muttered against my skin. "Just pretend I'm him. I'm pretending you're Chelsea."

The mention of her name snapped something inside me.

It wasn't a thought. It was an explosion.

A shockwave, cold and absolute, erupted from the center of my chest. It wasn't the fiery rage of a typical wolf. It was a blast of pure, kinetic energy, like a glacier cracking apart.

My hand moved before I told it to. I struck him across the face.

CRACK.

The sound was like a gunshot.

Antone didn't just turn his head. He was thrown off me, his body flying backward as if he'd been hit by a car. He crashed into the wardrobe, wood splintering on impact.

He slid to the floor, clutching his cheek. There was no burn mark, but his skin was stark white where I’d hit him, as if the blood had been terrified out of his veins.

"What..." He looked up at me, eyes wide with genuine fear. "What the hell are you?"

I scrambled off the bed, my entire body vibrating. My skin felt too tight. My vision sharpened, the colors of the room becoming hyper-vivid.

"I am not your toy," I said. My voice sounded different—deeper, layered with a growl that didn't sound like a regular wolf.

I didn't wait for him to recover. I turned and ran out the door, the strange chill fading back into the cold pit of my stomach, leaving me terrified of what I had just done.