The Weak Omega's Secret: Rise of the Alchemist

For nine hundred and eighty-six nights, I was exiled to the guest room while my husband, Alpha Corbett, let his dead wife’s sister sleep in our master suite.

He claimed Ivana needed his pheromones to sleep. I was just the glorified janitor in my own pack.

But the breaking point wasn't the neglect. It was the macaron.

"Eat it," Corbett ordered, holding out the green cookie. "Show me you accept my apology."

"I'm allergic to pistachios," I whispered. "I'll die."

He didn't listen. His eyes flashed red.

"Eat it."

The Alpha Command seized my motor functions. My hand moved against my will, shoving the poison into my mouth.

As my throat instantly swelled, I tasted the metallic tang of Wolfsbane. Ivana hadn't just ignored my allergy; she had laced it.

I collapsed on the kitchen tiles, clawing at my windpipe, turning purple.

From the living room, Ivana let out a fake, high-pitched shriek. "Corbett! My anxiety! It's coming back!"

Corbett looked down at me, convulsing and suffocating on the floor. Then he looked toward the living room.

The choice took him less than a second.

He physically stepped over my dying body.

"Hold on, Ivana! I'm coming!" he cooed, leaving me to die alone on the cold grout.

I managed to jam an EpiPen into my thigh, gasping as air forced its way back into my lungs.

As I lay there shivering, I didn't feel sadness. I felt clarity.

I dragged myself to my studio, packed my research, and sent a single email.

To: The Royal Lycan King.

Subject: I accept.

By the time Corbett realized Ivana was a fraud pregnant with another man's child, I was already gone.

And when he finally came begging on his knees, he found me in the arms of a King who would burn the world before he let me bow.

Chapter 1

Jenna POV:

Nine hundred and eighty-six nights.

That was how long I’d been exiled to the guest room while my husband, Alpha Corbett, let another woman play house in our master suite.

I stood by the door, hand hovering over the cold brass. Even through the thick oak, the smell hit me—cloying and stale, like dried lavender soaked in formaldehyde. It smelled like a funeral parlor.

It was the scent of Elenor, his late wife.

But Elenor had been in the ground for five years. The person wearing her unwashed robes was Ivana, her younger sister. A Beta female with no scent of her own, stealing the olfactory ghost of the dead to keep my mate on a leash.

"It helps her anxiety, Jen," Corbett had said, his voice rough with that perpetual, misguided guilt. "Her wolf is traumatized. She needs the Alpha's pheromones to sleep. It is my duty."

Duty. The brick wall he built between us.

I turned away, fighting the urge to retch. My inner wolf, usually a source of comfort, was curled into a tight ball in the back of my mind, starving and silent.

I retreated to the bathroom—the only lock he respected—and pulled out my phone. A secure email notification blinked.

From: Royal Lycan Pack, France.

Dear Ms. Jarvis,

Your paper on 'Olfactory Manipulation in Feral Shifters' was a revelation. We formally invite you to Grasse to interview for the position of Lead Scent Alchemist. His Majesty, King Kain, has taken a personal interest in your work.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Scent Alchemists were revered. Here, in the Silver Moon Pack, I was just the glorified janitor masking the smell of wet dog in the locker rooms.

I was about to reply when a high-pitched scream shattered the silence.

I dropped the phone and ran.

I burst into the master bedroom. Ivana was rolling on the floor, clutching her throat, face red, eyes bulging. She was wearing Elenor’s silk robe with the embroidered lilies.

"Ivana!" I knelt, reaching for a pulse.

The door slammed open behind me. A wave of heavy, suffocating pressure hit me—the physical weight of an Alpha's rage.

"Get away from her!" Corbett roared.

Ivana threw herself backward, scrambling away like I was holding a knife. "Corbett!" she wheezed. "She... she tried to use the suppression collar on me! She tried to choke me!"

I froze. "What? No, I just walked in—"

Corbett didn't look at me. He looked at Ivana, huddled in his dead wife's clothes. His eyes flashed a dangerous, glowing red.

"I said, get away," he growled.

I stood up, hands raised. "Corbett, use your nose. Smell the air. There's no adrenaline spike from me until you walked in. She’s lying."

"She is a Beta, Jenna! She is defenseless!"

"I am an Omega in your house! I have no authority!" I shouted, my voice cracking.

He stepped forward, looming over me. The air left the room.

"Kneel."

It wasn't a request. It was a sledgehammer to my nervous system. My knees hit the hardwood with a sickening crack before my brain could process the order. Pain shot up my shins, but my muscles locked in rigid obedience.

"Corbett, please," I whispered, humiliation stinging my eyes.

He walked past me, gathering Ivana into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, smirking at me over his shoulder.

"You have grown cruel, Jenna," Corbett said coldly. "Jealousy does not become a Luna."

"I am not jealous of a ghost mimic," I gritted out, fighting the Command.

"Apologize," he ordered. "Bare your neck to her."

My blood ran cold. Baring the neck was the ultimate submission. He was asking his mate to submit to a lying Beta.

"No," I choked out.

"Do it."

My body betrayed me. My head wrenched to the side, exposing my jugular. I trembled, fighting it, but the Alpha's power was absolute.

Ivana looked at my exposed neck. She didn't look scared. She looked triumphant.

She hates you, Corbett’s voice echoed in the Mind-Link, dripping with disgust. How could the Moon Goddess pair me with someone so petty?

Something inside me snapped. Not a bone, but the thin thread of hope I’d held for three years.

"You're right," I said, voice hollow. The Command faded as he focused on Ivana. I slumped forward, gasping.

"Go to your room," he dismissed me. "I will deal with your punishment later."

I stood on shaky legs. I went to the bathroom, picked up my phone, and opened the draft.

I accept, I typed.

Send.