CHAPTER 52: DID YOU HEAR

"I don’t think it’s safe anymore to meet here." The words were spoken in a sharp, urgent whisper as a lean man in a hood, glanced over his shoulder for the third time in less than a minute. His hand twitched near the pouch at his belt, as though the weight inside demanded constant reassurance.

The other man frowned. "What do you mean, its not safe? Has something happened?"

"Are you blind, or just stupid or have you been living under a rock? Haven’t you heard? There’ve been disturbances near the Ruins. The upper ones are all angry because someone was actually able to invade the space. We’ve been ordered to change the drop point until it is discovered who went there and how. So, it is too risky to keep using this place."

The frown deepened. The second man shifted his stance and rubbed his face, "What? Change it now? You’re joking."

"I wish I were." The hooded one let out a breath that sounded half like a hiss. "The orders came earlier today. No more gatherings here until further notice."

The man with the scar shook his head. "You can’t be serious. Do you know how long it took me to get here? I’ve got more than five with me, high-grade. I brought them all the way through the east marshes, dodging patrols, bribing two guards at the checkpoint. And now you’re telling me to wait for another location? Impossible. I can’t haul them back, not after all that effort." His voice dropped lower, urgent. "Can you not take the delivery for these five? Just these. We’ll arrange something new next time."

The hooded man recoiled slightly, glaring. "Are you crazy? Do you want to die? If you’re caught here with them, things will get worse than you can imagine. It’s not worth the risk." He jabbed a finger at him. "Better to lose the lot than lose your head. If you can sneak them back, fine. If not=discard them here and vanish before someone notices. Don’t invite trouble."

The scarred man clenched his jaw, muttering a curse under his breath. His hands flexed at his sides, caught between frustration and calculation. "You don’t understand. These weren’t easy to get. They’re... valuable. At least ask the boss. Maybe he’ll take them off me. I can’t just throw them away. One of them is even from the noble packs."

"The boss isn’t here." The hooded man hesitated, then added, "But there’s someone else. A man from the Moonville Pack. I might be able to put in a word, though I can’t promise he’ll care."

That got the scarred man’s attention. His eyes narrowed. "The Moonville Pack? What are they doing here? They don’t like to mingle with the rest of us. They keep to themselves, always looking down on others. Why would one of them show up?"

"You really have been living under rock, haven’t you?" The hooded man leaned closer, lowering his voice further. "Five nights ago, one of their Omegas used an ancient ritual- old magic- to escape the Pack’s control. Slipped right out from under Alpha Soier’s nose. Since then, the Alpha has been tearing apart the countryside looking for them. The Moonville dogs are everywhere, sniffing around, watching every shadow. They think the runaway is still hiding somewhere close."

The scarred man let out a low whistle. "An Omega invoking ancient magic? What in the hells were they thinking, letting one of their mutts dabble in that?"

"They weren’t thinking." The hooded one’s tone dripped with disdain. "Moonville arrogance. They treat Omegas like dirt, too worthless to keep an eye on, too weak to matter. My guess is they didn’t even realize their little pet was learning something dangerous."

The scarred man spat into the dirt. "Fools. That’s what they are. Fools who’ve forgotten history. Omegas have always been up to tricks. Filthy creatures-scheming, desperate, sly. You give them an inch, they’ll take your throat."

The hooded man’s lips curled into a tight smirk. "Tsk, tsk. You’re not wrong. But it’s amusing, isn’t it? The mighty Moonville Pack, humiliated by one of their own lowest. Alpha Soier must be frothing with rage. Word is, he’s ordered every wolf under his command to drag that Omega back. But that won’t happen."

"What do you mean? You think they won’t be able to find the Omega."

"Yes. My sources tell me. The Omega did not just invoke any magic. She invited the Shadow Wolves."

The man’s eyes widened at that. "Shadow Wolves? Is she crazy? Better to be an Omega than to be enslaved to the Shadows. Just how bad is the state of Omegas there that she would do that?"

Just then, the man in the hood stiffened and gestured for the other one to keep talking as he moved backwards slowly. The slight change in the direction of the wind had now warned him that someone was close...

The man with the scar smiled for a moment. He’d scented the eavesdropping Omega, too. So, in the same tone, he continued and walked towards the corner, "Since none of the Omegas of the Moonville Pack have ever stepped out, no one can know for sure. But, I think I have something much more interesting here..."

The two men exchanged a nod and in the next minute, moved in tandem, grabbing the woman before she could run away....

The woman they had seized thrashed violently, her elbows jabbing, her nails clawing for purchase on their arms, but the grip of two seasoned men was too strong. The scarred one caught her wrists and twisted them cruelly behind her back while the hooded man forced her down against the damp stone wall. She spat, kicked, even tried to bite, but the strength in her body was no match for theirs.

"Damn wildcat," the scarred man growled, jerking her arms higher until she gasped in pain. "You’d think an Omega would know better than to fight like this."

Her chest heaved, strands of hair falling loose across her face as she glared at them both, her breath sharp and ragged. The hooded man leaned closer, his nose brushing the air just above her neck. For a long, tense moment, he inhaled deeply. Then a low chuckle rumbled from his throat.

"Well, well," he murmured, his lips curling into a grin beneath the shadow of his hood. "What fortune smiles on us tonight." He tilted his head, sniffing again, his voice thick with amusement. "It is our lucky day indeed. This isn’t just some stray Omega. This is the one who dared to break from the Moonville Pack. You can still scent the remnants clinging to her skin... faint, but not gone. The bond has not fully dissolved."

The scarred man’s eyes widened, then gleamed with greedy satisfaction. "Are you sure?"

"Certain," the hooded one replied, straightening, though his hand never loosened from her shoulder. "I’ve dealt with enough of their kind to know the stink of Moonville’s leash. She’s fresh off it. Still carrying the mark." But in the next minute, the man tried to move her jacket away. The new mark somehow felt stronger. Could it be the Shadow Wolves’ mark?"