The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 244

**TITLE: Never Love 244**
**CONTENT: Alexander’s Alpha Half**

The cold, ancient metal bites into my wrists and ankles, the restraints crafted with sinister precision to contain the raw power of an Alpha. I pull against them, muscles coiling and straining with each futile attempt. A growl of frustration rises in my throat, echoing my helplessness as the bindings refuse to yield even the slightest bit.

The ritual chamber, hidden deep within the formidable Northern stronghold, thrums with an undercurrent of magic. Silver lines snake across the stone floor, etched into intricate patterns that pulse with energy. Ceremonial objects are meticulously arranged at specific intervals around the central circle where I am ensnared. Soon, the moonlight will filter through a series of carefully positioned apertures and mirrors embedded in the mountain, directing its silvery beams straight to this very spot when the ritual commences.

Without my healing half, a relentless fury simmers within me, unrefined and primal. My pure Alpha nature, stripped of compassion and patience, roars for release. Every instinct within me clamors to break free, to hunt down those responsible for my predicament, to assert dominance through whatever violence is necessary. It requires monumental willpower to maintain even a semblance of rational thought beneath this overwhelming rage.

Suddenly, a door creaks open across the chamber. Magistra Vega strides in, flanked by acolytes who carry additional ritual components with a practiced ease. Her expression is as severe as a winter storm, betraying no hint of emotion as she surveys the preparations, cold calculation etched into her features.

“The Alpha essence remains strong,” she remarks, her voice clipped and precise as she addresses one of her assistants. “Stronger than anticipated after the separation.”

“Is that a problem?” the younger woman inquires, her hands deftly arranging crystalline bowls at cardinal points around the circle, a hint of uncertainty in her tone.

“A complication, not a problem,” Vega corrects, her voice smooth yet authoritative. “The binding will demand more energy, but the outcome will be far more potent.”

I fix her with a glare that could make even the fiercest Lycans tremble. “You won’t succeed,” I growl, my voice deeper and rougher than usual—a side effect of being stripped to my pure Alpha essence. “Whatever scheme you’re concocting will fail, just as it did before.”

Vega steps closer to the edge of the circle, her gaze dissecting me with clinical detachment. “Your ongoing defiance is commendable but ultimately insignificant, Prince Alexander. Or should I say, half of Prince Alexander?” A thin smile flits across her lips, mocking. “The better half, from our perspective.”

“Where is Baron Krell?” I demand, the absence of my adversary gnawing at my thoughts. “Is he too cowardly to confront me directly?”

“Securing the perimeter,” she replies, unruffled by my taunt. “We’ve received reports of movement in the mountains. Nothing that will reach us in time, but it’s prudent to take precautions.”

Movement in the mountains. A flicker of hope ignites within me—could it be Lyra? My father’s forces? Through the mate bond, I’ve felt intermittent pulses of Lyra’s presence, growing stronger in recent hours, as if she’s drawing closer.

Her arrival would be a double-edged sword. Deep down, a part of me yearns for my mate, but my lycan half snarls in my mind, demanding to claim, possess, dominate. In this moment, I am the monster she should fear.

“Your healing essence continues to disperse,” Vega continues, her tone almost conversational as she inspects the ritual arrangements. “Soon, nothing will remain of that… unfortunate aspect of your nature. A cleaner solution than we initially planned.”

“You know nothing about my nature,” I snarl, anger surging within me. “The healing ability is as integral to me as my Alpha strength.”

“A corruption,” she corrects sharply, her disdain evident. “An aberration introduced when the usurpers permitted healing bloodlines to dilute the pure Alpha lineage.” Her expression hardens with conviction. “Your mother’s influence weakened what should have been the strongest Alpha bloodline in generations.”

The insult to my mother ignites my rage anew, fueling my desperation. I lunge against the restraints, the metal biting into my flesh, a roar of pure Alpha fury reverberating through the chamber. The acolytes step back in alarm, their eyes wide with fear, but Vega merely observes with an unnerving interest.

“Fascinating,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “The Alpha essence, unrestrained by healing, responds in remarkably primitive ways.”

With immense effort, I force the rage down, knowing that giving in only validates her observations. Without my healing half, maintaining control becomes increasingly difficult; emotions flare hotter, reactions spring from instinct rather than reason.

“You’re making a grave mistake,” I tell her, fighting to regain my composure. “This ritual won’t merely bind my Alpha essence to your bloodline—it will obliterate the balance the prophecy demands.”

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