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

Dallas POV:

The hallway felt miles long. Every step away from the Alpha's office felt like I was dragging a heavy chain.

"Dallas, wait!"

Antone grabbed my wrist. He pulled me into an alcove, his desperation rolling off him in waves of sour sweat.

"You can't go," he hissed. "You can't leave me here with them. With her."

"Let go of me, Antone," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

"I'll make it up to you," he pleaded, his eyes darting around. "We can... we can run away. Be Rogues."

"You?" I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "You wouldn't last a day without your father's credit card or the pack's protection. You're a parasite, Antone."

He snarled, his hand raising to strike me, but he stopped when footsteps echoed on the marble floor.

Desmond and Chelsea appeared. Chelsea was beaming, holding a garment bag that undoubtedly contained a wedding dress worth more than my existence.

"Is there a problem?" Desmond asked, his voice tight.

I yanked my arm free from Antone. "No problem. Just saying goodbye."

I looked at Desmond. The pull of the bond was still there, a hook in my heart, tugging me toward him. I had to rip it out.

"I have a condition for leaving quietly," I said to Desmond.

He stiffened. "What is it?"

"Reject me. Here. Now."

Chelsea's eyes widened. She looked between us, the realization dawning on her. She sniffed the air, finally catching the underlying scent of pine and storm beneath my distress. "You..." she breathed. "You're his mate?"

Desmond's face went pale. If he rejected his Fated Mate, his wolf would suffer. It could weaken him. But if he didn't, and he married Chelsea, the bond would drive him insane.

"Do it," I challenged him. "Or I scream it to the whole pack right now."

Desmond stepped forward. His eyes were full of pain, but his ambition was stronger. He squared his shoulders. The air in the hallway grew heavy with the power of the ritual.

"I, Desmond Morgan," he began, his voice shaking slightly, "Alpha Heir of the Morgan Pack..."

My wolf howled in agony, curling into a ball in the back of my mind.

"...reject you, Dallas Cole, as my mate and Luna."

The snap was audible. A physical force hit me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. I staggered back, clutching my heart. It felt like my ribs were collapsing.

I looked up, tears streaming down my face, but I forced my voice to work. I had to finish it.

"I, Dallas Cole..." I gasped for air. "I accept your rejection."

The link severed.

The color drained from Desmond's face. He stumbled, grabbing the wall for support.

"And," I continued, turning to the Alpha who had just emerged from his office to watch the spectacle. "I hereby sever my link to the Morgan Pack. I choose to be Rogue until my transfer."

"Accepted," Marcus said coldly.

The Pack Link—the constant, comforting hum of a hundred other minds in the back of my head—vanished.

Silence.

Absolute, terrifying silence.

It was like going deaf and blind at the same time. The isolation hit me harder than the rejection. My knees gave out.

I fell to the floor, darkness encroaching on my vision. The last thing I saw was Desmond reaching out for me, his instinct trying to save what he had just thrown away, before Chelsea yanked him back.

"Let her fall," Chelsea hissed.

And I did.