CHAPTER 24: THE OMEGA’S SHELL

Rhea waited, expecting footsteps — anything that might tell her someone was about to open the door. Instead, a muffled voice hissed again, rasping through the wood: "Hold his legs, idiots. Can’t you see I’m having a hard time here?"

Her stomach twisted. Oh, hell no.

Her fist slammed into the wood with a crack. "Open this door, you sick bastards!" she shouted. "What the hell are you doing in there? Who the fuck are you holding down? This pack is rotting, I swear it!" Her pounding grew harder, rattling the handle. "Open it before I break it down myself. Don’t test me. I’ll drag every single one of you out by your hair if I have to!"

But the more she shouted, the stranger it felt. Her racket echoed through the hallway, yet not a single person came to see what was happening. Every door along the passage stayed tightly shut, as if the whole pack had gone deaf.

"What the hell is wrong with you people," she barked, slamming her palm harder. "Come out this instant!"

At the end of the hall, Seraphine and her daughters stayed out of sight, watching her.

Lyra’s brows arched. "What is she doing now? Doesn’t she know whose room that is?"

Lena smirked, one hand resting on her sister’s shoulder as she leaned forward to peek from their hiding spot. "Whatever it is, I’m loving it. Let her dig her own grave. This is the best entertainment we’ve had all week."

Seraphine’s lips thinned. Her gaze flicked with irritation. "This is a good thing," she muttered coldly. Her mind burned with the memory of Roff earlier, how she had stepped in to keep him from tearing into Rhea. If only she had let him have his way then, the Eberhards would not had been disgraced by this insolent Omega.

Lyra stifled a laugh, her voice low and sharp. "If only she knew what she’s about to face." Her eyes gleamed.

"Shh," Lena murmured, eyes bright. "Let’s just watch."

Roff was one of the strongest sub-Alphas in the pack; after all, the sub-Alphas and sub-Betas had trained directly under the Alpha and his beta. Nobody dared mess with them. As a sub-Alpha, Roff had the natural strength that came with his bloodline, and his combat training only made him more dangerous. Watching a wolf-less Omega cussing at his door was priceless.

Meanwhile, Rhea’s fists kept hammering. The door jolted under her assault, the knob rattling violently in her grip. She leaned close between each strike, listening, rage and curiosity twisting inside her.

A groan drifted through, strained and furious. "Hold him down!" the voice snapped again, followed by shuffling, a cry half-smothered.

Someone’s coming, she thought, stepping back, bracing herself.

The door creaked open.

Rhea’s eyes widened.

The face that greeted her was all too familiar. Roff. The bastard who had slapped her earlier that very day, his palm still burning in her memory. No wonder the first voice sounds very familiar. He had gotten off lucky then, spared only because Seraphine interfered. Her lips curled. Lucky, was he? Not anymore. Not if she caught him at something foul.

Roff’s frown deepened the moment he saw her. Of all the packmates he might have expected, this filthy bitch was the last face he wanted at his door. Yet as his eyes took her in, confusion flickered beneath his scowl. Something about her seemed... different. The oversized T-shirt hanging loose on her, the baggy jeans far too big — probably stolen. The bruise and clotted blood at her temple stirred something in him. She looked oddly striking in her defiance, blood matted in her hair but her chin lifted like a challenge.

Maybe, he thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she joined in the fun. That would teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

His lip curled in contempt. "What do you want, filth?" Roff snarled

Rhea’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp. "What the hell do you think I want? What are you doing in there? Who are you holding down?" She craned her neck, trying to peer past him, but Roff shifted, blocking the gap with his broad shoulders.

Instead of answering, his mouth stretched into a slow smile. It wasn’t a pleasant one. The kind of smile that crawled over his face like grease, dripping with thoughts he didn’t bother to hide.

Rhea’s stomach twisted. Even his smile looks as disgusting as him, she thought, glaring at him with open disdain.

"Well," Roff drawled, tilting his head, "would you like to come in and see for yourself what’s happening inside?"

Her brows rose. So that was his game. He wanted her in there, trapped in whatever filth was playing out. Werewolves were strong, fast, vicious. Strength she didn’t have — not right now. This body might belong to a werewolf, but without the wolf inside it was nothing more than a weak Omega shell. Her jaw tightened, a chill sliding down her spine. Could she really take on three of them armed with nothing but her taekwondo skills and sheer stubborn grit?

Rhea chest tightened. Back in her world, training had been brutal, relentless. She had taken on ten blue belt holders at once and dropped them all. She had stood against seven red belts and five black belts, each strike pounding into her bones, and still she came out on top. The only fights that had ever made her bleed and ache for days were with her two masters. They had pressed her to the edge until her ribs screamed and her knuckles split. She still won, barely, by twisting her pain into fuel, reading every weakness they exposed. The bruises had lingered for a week, and her brothers had bristled, eager to avenge her, but she and her parents had stopped them. It had always been her fight, hers alone. After all, they were the ones who had forced her to train.

She smirked faintly to herself. Five wolves, ten wolves — does it matter? I just have to use their strength against them, redirect, keep my head clear.

"Are you scared now?" Roff’s sneer cut through her thoughts. "Weren’t you the one banging on my door, begging to see inside?"

Her jaw clenched. Inside, her pulse drummed hard, but she hyped herself up, whispering inwardly,You can do this, Rhea! Then she looked him square in the eye. "After you."