The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 245

**TITLE: Never Love 245**
**CONTENT: Alexander’s Alpha Half**

As the chamber buzzes with frantic energy, I redirect my attention to the fragile thread connecting me to my healing essence. The urgency of our situation has escalated—time is slipping away faster than we had feared.

Once more, I send not mere words but raw feelings through that peculiar bond—an overwhelming sense of urgency, a sharp awareness of danger, a desperate need for our reunion before the sands of time run out completely. This time, the response is more potent, as if my healing essence is somehow managing to coalesce its scattered awareness. I am flooded with impressions rather than clear thoughts—Lyra, the Cave of Whispers, a key and an amulet working in unison.

Are these cryptic messages truly from my healing half? Or am I merely weaving meaning from the chaotic sensations born of my desperation? It’s impossible to ascertain with certainty, but the connection feels more tangible, more essential with each passing moment.

Hours drag on in a taut atmosphere of preparation. Through the narrow openings high in the chamber walls, I catch glimpses of daylight dwindling into the embrace of dusk. Soon, the first touch of moonlight will grace the central circle, signaling the commencement of the extraction ritual. Every few moments, messengers arrive, bearing updates on the intruders’ advance, each report tightening the lines on Vega’s face further.

“They’ve breached the outer perimeter,” Krell announces during his latest update, his voice laced with urgency. “They’re moving faster than we anticipated, traversing terrain that should have slowed them considerably.”

“They have a guide familiar with these treacherous mountains,” Vega deduces, her voice a mixture of frustration and resolve. “Selene’s betrayal runs deeper than we ever feared.”

“Should I confront them myself?” Krell offers, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his sword, eager for action.

Vega ponders briefly before shaking her head firmly. “Your presence is crucial for the ritual. Dispatch your elite guard, but you must remain here.” Her gaze sweeps across the chamber with a clinical precision. “We are prepared to commence as soon as the first sliver of moonlight pierces the aperture.”

As the final adjustments are made to the ritual circle, I concentrate all my energy on two vital connections—the mate bond with Lyra and that elusive awareness of my healing essence. Both connections feel more robust than before, as if they are drawing closer from different realms. Is it possible? Could both Lyra and my healing half be converging towards me at the same moment?

The first silvery beam of moonlight strikes the highest aperture, embarking on its meticulously calculated journey through the intricate system of mirrors designed to direct it to the central circle. Vega positions herself, ritual tools meticulously arranged before her, her voice rising in an ancient chant that causes the silver lines on the floor to shimmer with an ethereal glow.

“The extraction begins,” she proclaims, her voice resonating with a power that fills the entire chamber. “Alpha essence from the divided heir, power drawn from a sundered source, strength separated from weakness, dominance purified for its true purpose.”

A sharp pain lances through me as the ritual’s incantations take hold, a pulling sensation tugging at my very core. This is not the initial rending that split me apart along a natural fault line between my dual natures. No, this is extraction—the deliberate, methodical removal of my essence from my physical form, akin to drawing poison from a festering wound.

I resist with every ounce of strength I possess, anchoring myself through the mate bond with Lyra, through that strange connection to my healing half, and through sheer Alpha stubbornness that refuses to submit. The restraints bite deeper as I struggle against them, blood trickling down my wrists in thin crimson lines.

“His resistance is remarkable,” Krell notes from his vantage point at the edge of the circle, a mix of admiration and disdain in his tone. “But ultimately, it is in vain.”

“Every resistance crumbles before the might of properly wielded ritual force,” Vega replies, her confidence unwavering in every syllable. “The extraction proceeds as intended.”

The moonlight intensifies as it descends through the lower apertures, the beam widening and growing stronger as it approaches the central circle. My vision begins to blur at the edges, my awareness of my physical body fading as my essence slowly detaches from it.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify