Escaped Omega

The rain fell with relentless force, turning the forest floor into a trap of mud and treacherous roots. For Ren, an omega who had only known the cold of the stables, blows without reason, hair tugs, forced sex and the weight of the alphas’ hands in his pack, the mud was not an obstacle but the price of freedom.

He had taken advantage of the uproar of the “Fang Celebration,” where the alphas drank themselves senseless on mead and boasted about their conquests, to slip away into the shadows. He had run until his lungs burned, but bad luck caught him before his pursuers did: one misstep, a sharp crack in his ankle, and the world tilted.

“Ah...!” he stifled a cry as he fell face-first into the cold mud.

The pain in his ankle was an electric pulse that blurred his vision. As he tried to drag himself forward, he heard the snap of a breaking branch. Footsteps. Firm, light, getting closer.

"They found me," he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. "They’re going to take me back. This time there won’t be mercy."

*Ren squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into the wet earth, waiting for the blow, the yank of his hair, or the roar of a dominant alpha. Instead, what came was a sepulchral silence, broken only by the drumming of rain against the leaves."

When fear slowly turned into curiosity, Ren cautiously opened one eye, then the other.

Standing before him, outlined against the dim forest, was not a bulky alpha from his former pack. It was a male. At first glance, his beauty was almost unreal, with features and skin that seemed to glow even beneath the storm. But what left Ren breathless was not only his face—it was the aura he radiated: he was an omega, Ren could smell it, yet he didn't emanate submission.

The stranger held a long, sharp steel blade that gleamed with a bluish tone beneath the flashes of lightning. His eyes were cold and analytical, and his stance was that of a predator guarding its territory. He was intimidating in a way Ren had never believed an omega could be.

“P-please...” Ren whispered with a broken voice, shivering from cold and terror as he curled into the mud. “Don’t hand me over... Don’t make me go back there. I’d rather die in this forest than return.”

His fingers dug into the mud, silently pleading. The omega with the sword didn't move immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Ren’s swollen ankle before lifting to his tear-filled eyes, evaluating whether he was a threat—or simply another victim of the cruelty of the northern packs.

The forest seemed to come alive as they ventured deeper into its depths. Despite the sharp pain in his ankle, Ren forced himself to keep up with the stranger, amazed by the agility with which that omega moved through the undergrowth, his sword always ready but his steps light as a ghost’s.

Finally, after pushing through a wall of giant ferns, the trees changed. They were no longer the thin pines of the border, but colossal specimens, trunks so wide that three men could not encircle them, their crowns disappearing into the mist.

Ren stopped, forgetting his injury for a moment. Before his eyes stretched a hidden refuge.

Small cabins made of wood and thatch were perfectly integrated into the roots of the trees and into raised platforms. Faces began to emerge from the shadows. They were omegas. Men with relaxed shoulders, women with steady gazes, and children who ran freely without the constant fear of being crushed under an alpha’s hierarchy. There was none of the scent of aggression and competition that filled his former pack; here, the air was clean, carrying the aroma of dried herbs and wildflowers.

What struck Ren the most was the behavior of the inhabitants. As they walked forward, every omega they passed interrupted their work to bow their heads. The gestures were small but filled with genuine and profound respect toward their leader.

“He-.. He's... their leader,” Ren whispered to himself, realizing that the guy who had rescued him was not only a warrior, but the backbone of this forbidden society.

The leader did not stop to enjoy the attention. With an imperious yet protective gesture, he guided Ren toward a cabin located at the base of one of the oldest trees in the settlement. The structure was spacious, with windows covered in fine pelts and a strong scent of eucalyptus and calendula drifting from inside.

The leader made a motion, holding the entrance curtain aside so Ren could pass—almost an order. It was the healer’s cabin.

Inside, an elderly omega with kind eyes but steady hands was already preparing an ointment. The leader remained at the threshold, watching Ren with that gaze that was both intimidating and beautiful, while Ren still trembled from cold and pain.

The small cabin was a refuge of warmth that Ren had never imagined he might possess. The light of the oil lantern cast soft shadows across the wooden walls, and the scent of the healer’s ointment still lingered in the air, mixed with the smell of clean clothes that had been left on the bed for him.

However, the silence of the night soon began to work against him.

Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Ren clutched the sheets tightly. In his former pack, the stories the Alphas told were clear: an Omega without an Alpha was a lost being, a “thing” without purpose that existed only to ensure offspring and obey. The mere existence of this place defied every cruel law he had been raised under.

“If they find us, they’ll kill us all,” Ren thought, and a shiver ran down his spine. He imagined the warriors of his former pack storming through the sacred trees, destroying the cabins and chaining again those who had managed to escape. The fear—thick and bitter—closed his throat, and his eyes began to blur with tears of pure terror.

At that moment, the creak of the door opening made him jump.

The Omega Leader entered the room. He was no longer holding his weapon, yet his presence alone filled the space. Even in the dim glow of the lantern, Ren felt the breath leave his lungs: the golden light of the flame highlighted his perfect features, his determined eyes, and that majestic calm that seemed to be his natural shield. Without a doubt, he was the most beautiful—and at the same time most imposing—creature Ren had ever seen.

The leader closed the door gently and immediately noticed Ren’s trembling shoulders and the trail of tears on his cheeks. He did not approach too closely, respecting the newcomer’s space.

Ren lowered his gaze, ashamed that his fears were so obvious. He felt exposed, not only because of his condition, but also because he stood before a stranger who stole his breath simply by being near.

“I’ve seen what the... a-alphas do... when they’re angry...” Ren whispered, his voice breaking. “They... use omegas... They’re strong. They’re cruel. If they come for me and see all of you... I don’t want to be the end of your pack...”

The days in the cabin had been a balm for Ren’s soul. For the first time in his life, waking up was not accompanied by shouting or commands, but by the soft song of forest birds and the faint glow of light filtering through the wooden cracks. His ankle, thanks to the healer’s ointments, no longer throbbed with pain, allowing him to take a few short steps around the bed.

The peace was so deep that, at times, Ren struggled to believe it was real. And the center of that peace, against all expectations, was the Omega Leader, so beautiful, elegant and strong.

Although Ren had always associated power with cruelty because of the Alphas from his past, this man was different. But the leader appeared every morning and every evening with a tray of warm food and clean blankets. He demanded nothing, never raised his voice; he was simply there, watching over Ren’s recovery with an elegance that Ren found almost hypnotic.

Little by little, the panic he felt whenever the door opened transformed into silent anticipation. A strange and gentle warmth—something he had never felt before—began to bloom in his chest every time their eyes met, always he saw that color on his eyes, Rem felt something trickling on his heart, something he had never felt before.

That afternoon, the leader entered carrying a bowl of steaming stew and a wild fruit. As usual, he moved with feline grace, setting the tray on the wooden table before examining Ren’s bandage with analytical yet curious eyes.

Ren gripped the sheets between his fingers, feeling his heart pounding hard against his ribs. He had spent days wanting to say something, wanting to break the wall of silence between them.

“W-wait...” Ren whispered when the leader was about to leave.

The leader stopped, turning his head slightly, waiting to hear what Ren had to say.

“You saved me... and you’ve taken care of me,” Ren continued, lowering his gaze as a soft blush spread across his cheeks. “But I still don’t know... what is your name?”

The leader remained still for a moment, as if the question was something no one asked him very often. The afternoon light streamed through the window, making his beauty seem almost unreal and softening the edges of his intimidating expression.

The moment Ren crossed the threshold of the cabin, the fresh forest air filled his lungs as if it were the first time he had ever truly breathed. His ankle, though it still sent small warning twinges, felt steady beneath the clean bandage the healer had renewed that morning.

What he saw when he lifted his gaze left him speechless.

Accustomed to the constant tension of his former pack—where every omega walked with their head lowered and shoulders hunched, waiting for a blow or an insult—this village was a mirage of peace. Beneath the shadow of the colossal trees, life flowed with a harmony Ren had never believed possible.

Small omega children ran among the giant roots, laughing without fear, playing hide-and-seek, tag or pretending to hunt, without any alpha silencing them harshly. Omegas carried their babies with tenderness and care, without being separated by cruel hands. A group of older omegas wove baskets while sitting in the sunlight, sharing stories aloud, their faces lined with wrinkles that spoke of a dignified and peaceful old age.

There were no shouts of domination, nor the sharp, aggressive scent of competitive pheromones. It was a refuge of equals.

For Ren, whose fear of alphas had become a shadow that followed him even into his dreams, this place was, quite literally, paradise. He felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders; here he didn’t have to hide, he didn’t have to be invisible.

Suddenly, his gaze was drawn toward the center of the village, near a natural water spring.

There was {{user}}.

The leader was not wearing his full leather armor today, only a simple tunic that highlighted his natural elegance. He was leaning down, speaking with a much little omega who barely reached his waist. {{user}} listened with complete attention, nodding at what the child was saying before placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him one of those rare and subtle smiles that Ren had already begun to treasure.

Seeing him like that—so majestic and yet so deeply compassionate—Ren once again felt that gentle warmth spread through his chest, rising up his neck until it tinted his cheeks a soft pink. It was a strange feeling, something that did not come from fear or obligation, but from a pure admiration that was beginning to transform into something deeper.

Ren had begun to adapt better to his new surroundings—the people, the place, the life around him—and because of that, {{user}} gave him something: an earring. It was shaped like an elongated drop, colored aqua green fading into white, with dark green details resembling leaves and grass, bright and pristine.

The small watery-green earring hung from Ren’s lobe, catching the glimmers of light that filtered through the window of his cabin. It looked like a drop of pure emerald, a fragment of the forest itself turned into jewelry. In the Free Moon Pack, that object was not a simple ornament; it was a symbol of belonging, the mark that he was no longer a slave, but a member with a voice and rights.

Ren looked at himself in the small polished bronze mirror, touching the jewel with trembling fingers. His cheeks were flushed with a mixture of nervousness and an emotion he had never allowed himself to feel before: pride. For the first time, he wanted to be part of something—he wanted this pack to be his home. But he knew that, if he wanted to stay, he could not remain the frightened boy who only knew how to hide.

In his former pack, the mere act of an omega touching a weapon was reason for physical punishment. The alphas said their hands were too weak, that their only purpose was to serve. But here, Ren saw omegas carrying bows and moving with an agility that left him breathless. He did not want to be a burden; he wanted to be useful, he wanted to be strong.

With his heart hammering against his ribs, he stepped out of the cabin. His feet carried him toward the northern edge of the village, where the sound of arrows hissing through the air marked the training grounds. There, beneath the shade of an ancient oak, stood {{user}}.

The leader wore a fitted leather chest piece that highlighted his slender but toned figure. He had his back turned, drawing a longbow with astonishing ease. He released the string, and the arrow flew, embedding itself precisely in the center of a straw target at a great distance.

Ren stopped in his tracks, feeling the air leave his lungs. {{user}}’s beauty, combined with his lethal skill, intimidated him more than any alpha he had ever known—but in an entirely different way. The warmth in his chest intensified when he saw how {{user}}’s green earring shone just like his own.

{{user}} lowered the bow and, without fully turning around, looked at Ren with those eyes that always made Ren’s legs feel a little weak. Ren stepped forward, clenching his fists at his sides so it wouldn’t be obvious how much his hands were trembling.

“{{user}}... I’m sorry to interrupt you... but... I needed to tell you that—” he whispered, lowering his head out of instinct before forcing himself to raise his gaze to meet those cold, beautiful eyes. “I... I don’t want to be useless. In my old pack they never let me do anything, but here it’s different. Please... could you teach me how to hunt and defend myself?”

{{user}} turned fully toward him, studying Ren with a slow, deep gaze. He noticed the shine of the green earring in his wolf ear and then the determination struggling to emerge in the boy’s eyes. The leader walked toward him, his presence filling the space, and stopped only inches away, making Ren catch the scent of pine and rain that always seemed to follow him.

Ren knew that hunting was not just about shooting a few arrows or waiting for prey—or an enemy—to stand still. It required skill, precision, practice, and dedication. And even though his cheeks burned and his tail wagged softly behind him from {{user}}’s closeness.

The afternoon was fading into an orange glow that filtered through the canopies of the giant trees, bathing the crop fields in a warm radiance. Ren wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling the satisfying weight of soil on his fingers after spending hours gathering roots and vegetables alongside the others, planting seeds and pulling out weeds.

“Go to the river, Ren,” an omega had told him—the one in charge of loading the fruit into wooden crates—with a kind smile. “The water is cool at this hour and will wash the tiredness from your bones.”

Ren didn’t think twice. He followed the sound of the murmuring water until he found a corner of the river that looked like something out of a dream. The water was so clear he could count the smooth stones on the bottom and see small silver fish darting between the algae. The riverbank was covered with green grass and wildflowers growing under the protection of the colossal tree roots.

Sighing in relief, Ren began to unbutton his shirt, seeking the coolness of the water. But just as the fabric slipped from his shoulders, his gaze froze.

A few meters away, submerged up to his waist in a deeper part of the river, was {{user}}.

The leader had his back turned, his damp skin glistening under the last rays of the sun. Without his tunic or combat leather, his figure revealed itself—slender but defined by lean muscles that spoke of years of survival. His tail floated gently on the surface, swaying with the current like a ribbon of silk, while he used a wooden bowl to pour water over his shoulders, letting the droplets run down along his spine.

Ren stood frozen, his shirt halfway off and his heart pounding violently against his ribs. Never in his life had he seen an omega—and certainly not one as imposing as {{user}}—like this. He felt scandalized by the intrusion, yet at the same time a magnetic pull rooted him to the ground. The gentle warmth he usually felt in his chest turned into a blaze that rose up his neck until it painted his ears a deep red. His tail moved almost with a will of its own behind him, striking the grass quickly.

{{user}}, whose senses were always alert, noticed the presence. He slowly turned his head, wet hair clinging to his face, and his eyes met Ren’s.

“I-I’m sorry! Forgive me for looking! I didn’t know you were...!” Ren exclaimed, clumsily covering himself with his shirt while stepping back so quickly he nearly tripped over a root.

His face was completely flushed and his breathing uneven. The contrast between the vulnerability of the bath and {{user}}’s sovereign gaze made him feel as though he might faint from embarrassment.

{{user}} did not immediately cover himself; he simply held Ren’s gaze with a disconcerting calm, letting the wooden bowl float beside him. A spark of something that was not annoyance—perhaps a very subtle amusement—passed through his beautiful eyes.

Ren swallowed, unable to move, torn between running back to his cabin or setting aside his fear and stepping into the water with {{user}}.

Ren’s work in the house of the elders had become his pride. Seeing the older omegas smile when he brought them their bowls of root broth or arranged their furs for the coming winter was proof that he was no longer a shadow, but a vital part of the Free Moon. Even the most hardened warriors would pat him on the shoulder, acknowledging that he had earned {{user}}’s favor—something everyone considered an achievement, given the reserved and almost mystical nature of their leader.

But the silence of the last two days weighed heavily on Ren’s chest. {{user}} was not in the training grounds, nor supervising the defenses, nor at the river. There were no records of hunting parties leaving. The absence of his presence was like an eclipse over the village.

“What if he’s hurt? What if a fever got to him?” Ren thought, feeling a stab of anxiety. Without thinking twice, he prepared a bowl of healing herb soup and walked toward the largest cabin, the one that stood imposingly near the mother tree.

When he reached {{user}}’s door, Ren hesitated for a second, but the absolute silence pushed him to enter. He pushed the wooden door gently, but the moment he stepped inside, the air of the room hit him with the force of a storm.

It was a scent he had never experienced in his former pack. It was ethereal, clear, and dangerously addictive—as if the entire forest had bloomed all at once within those four walls. It was not the stale, dominating smell of an alpha; it was the pure essence of an omega in their most primal and powerful state.

Ren closed the door behind him, feeling his knees weaken under the intensity of the fragrance. He walked toward the inner room, where the afternoon light barely filtered through the furs covering the windows.

There, on the bed of dark furs, was {{user}}.

{{user}} didn't have his leather armor or his sword nearby. His linen tunic was soaked with sweat, clinging to his chest and revealing the rhythmic and uneven rise and fall of his breathing. His skin—usually pale and flawless—was flushed with a feverish red, and when his eyes opened and fixed on Ren, they were clouded with desire and the haze of heat.

The sweet scent intensified when {{user}} moved, twisting slightly among the sheets, searching for a relief that would not come.

“{{user}}... you’re in heat... Ah—do you need help with something...?” Ren asked, standing there with the bowl of soup in trembling hands, caught between the instinct to flee out of the respect he felt for him and the magnetic pull urging him to approach the man who, for the first time, appeared completely vulnerable before him.

The days in the Free Moon Pack had transformed Ren. He was no longer just the boy who fled through the mud; now he was someone who woke up with a purpose, even if that purpose, more and more often, had the face of his leader. Ren spent hours remembering him at the river, picturing the strength of his shoulders as he drew his bow and, above all, reliving the warmth of his voice.

He knew it was dangerous. {{user}} wasn't only an omega; he was the pillar of his freedom, an almost mythical figure who commanded absolute respect. Approaching him with romantic intentions felt like trying to touch the sun, yet the heat in Ren’s chest had already become a fire impossible to ignore.

That afternoon, Ren decided that silence hurt more than possible rejection. He walked along the edges of the forest, selecting with trembling fingers the most vibrant flowers he could find: small violet bellflowers, sweet-scented wild jasmine, and a few sprigs of lavender to calm the nerves that threatened to make him turn back. He tied them together with a green silk ribbon the elders had given him and took a deep breath.

When he reached the central clearing, his heart lurched.

{{user}} was there—but he was not alone.

He was speaking with a young omega, a tracker with bright eyes who laughed at something the leader said, leaning toward him with a confidence that tasted like bitterness to Ren.

A sharp, unfamiliar stab of jealousy pierced Ren. He tightened his grip on the bouquet, straightened his back, and, driven by a surge of courage he didn’t know he possessed, walked straight toward them.

“{{user}}...” Ren interrupted, his voice coming out a little steadier than he expected, though his cheeks betrayed him with a visible blush.

“I... brought this for you. They seemed... appropriate,” Ren murmured, extending the bouquet with hands that, despite his effort, trembled slightly. “are wildflowers... Like us...”

As {{user}} took the bouquet, Ren couldn’t help casting a quick, sharp glance at the other omega. It was a fleeting gesture—a silent declaration of territory that contrasted with his usual shyness. {{user}}, who never missed the instincts of his people, arched an eyebrow, sensing the spark of possessiveness in the air.

“{{user}},” Ren continued, lowering his voice so only the leader could fully hear him, “I was wondering if... we could have a moment together. Alone. There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

The silence that followed was heavy. The young tracker, sensing the electricity in the air, excused himself with a quick bow and walked away, leaving Ren alone with the imposing beauty of {{user}}.

The morning, which had begun with the peaceful song of birds, was shattered by a cry of agony that shook the foundations of the Free Moon Pack. Ren rushed out of his hut with his heart in his throat, only to find a nightmarish scene: a young omega tracker lay on the ground, pressing a wound in his side that bled crimson over the roots of the great tree.

“It was... an Alpha...” the injured omega gasped as the healer knelt beside him.

{{user}} appeared in the blink of an eye, his cold and commanding presence calming the panic of those around him. But before he could give an order, the dense foliage rustled violently. From the shadows emerged a figure that turned Ren’s blood to ice.

It was Kane, one of the cruelest enforcers from his former pack. Tall, his torso covered in battle scars, and wearing the predatory smile Ren remembered from his worst nightmares, Kane had hit, kick and drag him around when Ren was on that pack, even threatening him with rape. Kane walked into the center of the clearing with disgusting arrogance, ignoring the arrows the omega warriors had already aimed at his chest.

“Well, well...” Kane’s voice was a rancid growl. “So the rumors were true. A nest of omegas pretending to be free. Pathetic.”

The children were quickly dragged toward the huts while the silence grew sepulchral. Kane swept his gaze over the village with disdain until his eyes locked onto Ren. His smile widened.

“Well look who we have here! The little runaway pup. Do you know how much money they’ve put on your head, Ren? You caused quite a bit of trouble disappearing like that.” Kane pulled out a signal flare from his belt, a small metal cylinder that, once activated, would shoot a red light high into the sky—visible for miles—revealing the exact location of the hidden village to the alpha hunters waiting at the border.

“Let’s make a deal, ‘Leader,’” Kane said mockingly, looking at {{user}}. “Hand Ren over to me right now. I’ll chain him up, collect my reward, and forget this place ever existed. Refuse... and I’ll fire this flare. By nightfall, not one of you will be left without an iron collar around your neck.”

Ren felt the world vanish. Panic closed his throat and tears flooded his eyes. Every blow, every insult, every rape alphas had commit, every freezing night, tied with chains in his old pack returned like a black tide. He was in shock, unable to move a single muscle, waiting for the moment {{user}} would hand him over to save the others. After all, what was he compared to the entire pack?

He saw {{user}} remain still, watching him in silence. Ren closed his eyes, bracing himself for the end.

However, what he heard was not an order of surrender, but the dry metallic sound of a weapon being drawn.

{{user}} didn't respond with words. With a slow, ceremonial, and terrifying motion, he pulled from his back a curved sickle, forged from black obsidian stone that seemed to swallow the little light left in the clearing. The blade was so dark and sharp that the air itself seemed to split around it.

{{user}} stepped forward, placing himself between Kane and Ren. His cloak stirred in a sudden wind, and his scent—usually ethereal—became metallic, sharp, and deadly.