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

Dallas POV:

The smell of antiseptic woke me. The rhythmic beeping of a monitor confirmed I was in the pack clinic.

My chest felt hollow. The space where my wolf usually hummed was quiet. She was there, but she was dormant, buried under layers of grief and trauma.

"You're awake."

I turned my head. Desmond was sitting in the chair next to the bed. He looked terrible. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and he was sweating. The side effects of rejecting a mate.

"Why are you here?" I rasped. My throat felt like I had swallowed glass.

"I wanted to see if you survived," he said quietly.

"Disappointed?"

He flinched. "Dallas, I... I didn't want it to be this way. But the pack comes first. The merger..."

"Get out," I whispered.

His phone buzzed. He looked at it, and I saw the name Chelsea flash on the screen.

"I have to go," he said, standing up. "She's trying on the veil."

"Go to your wife, Desmond. Just remember, every time you kiss her, you'll feel the hole I left."

He walked out without looking back.

I closed my eyes, wishing I could sleep forever. But the door opened again.

Antone walked in. He was holding a small jar.

"I brought you something," he said, his voice slick with fake sympathy. "For the bruises."

He set the jar on the bedside table. "Desmond feels bad, you know. He wants to make sure you're... presentable for Alpha Simmons."

"I don't want your charity."

Antone leaned over the bed railing, lowering his voice. "You know, Dallas, Seattle isn't that far. Once the wedding is over... maybe I can visit. Alpha Simmons is a cripple. He can't satisfy a woman. You'll get lonely."

I stared at him, unable to comprehend the depth of his depravity. He was proposing I become his mistress while I was married to another Alpha, after his brother had rejected me.

"You want me to be your whore," I stated flatly.

"I want to take care of you," he corrected, a smirk playing on his lips. "Think about it. You'll need an ally."

I looked at the jar of cream. Then I looked at Antone.

If I fought him now, in my weakened state, I would lose. If I screamed, no one would care. I was a Rogue now. I had no rights here.

I needed to survive. I needed to get on that plane to Seattle.

"Okay," I lied. My voice was dead. "I'll think about it."

Antone's ego swelled. He patted my hand—the skin crawling at his touch—and straightened his jacket. "Good girl. I knew you were smart. The plane leaves in two hours. Don't keep your new master waiting."

He left, whistling a tune.

I slowly sat up, my body aching. I picked up the jar of cream and threw it into the trash can.

I walked to the window and looked out at the Morgan estate. The sprawling lawns, the grand house, the forest where I used to run. It was all a cage.

"Goodbye," I whispered to the empty room.

I turned my back on the view. I didn't know what awaited me in Seattle. Kennedy Simmons might be a monster. He might be a beast who would tear me apart.

But at least he wasn't a Morgan.

And right now, that was enough.