The Omni-Wolf’s Choice novel Chapter 24

Chapter 24 – Anger management…

Bridget’s POV

“Excuse me,” I say as I step into the suite.

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A girl is already sprawled out like she owns the place. “Hi,” she tells me, all bright and sure of herself. “I

think you’ve got the wrong room.”

She’s my age, gorgeous in the effortless way that makes you double-check your own reflection. Jet- black waves spill over her shoulders. Her eyes are brown and slightly slanted, her skin a deep warm tone. Henna patterns wind over both hands-hands that are holding my magazine.

For half a second, she’s so confident I actually retreat and stare at the door, scanning the number like the floor might have shifted under me.

“Uh… no,” I answer, and it comes out uncertain, which makes my stomach twist. “This is my room.”

She smiles as if we’re sharing a joke. “This place confuses me all the time too. You’re in the Alpha’s suite.” She gestures around. “I’m staying here-guest of the Alpha. Which room were you trying to find, dear?”

Dear.

My mate has been dodging me. He has been angry with me. He has told me no one else has been in

here. And now there’s a stranger in my bed calling me dear.

My fingers twitch. Mystique is right there under my skin, restless, ready.

“Sweetheart,” I tell her, keeping my voice low enough it almost sounds gentle, “you’re sitting in my bed. If I were you, I’d get up before I make you.”

She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

I can’t tell if that’s innocent confusion or pure attitude. Either way, some woman is in my sheets trying

to redirect me like I wandered into her life by mistake.

I have promised myself I’ll manage my anger. But my anger has never had to handle this.

“Get. Out.”

She pushes up to stand, still acting like this is a misunderstanding that will resolve if she keeps talking. The shorts she’s wearing are barely there-thin fabric on top of my bedding, like it’s nothing.

Then the door opens.

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Ryder walks in, dripping wet, towel slung low around his hips. He’s rubbing his hair with another towel, water sliding down his chest. His abs tense as he moves, droplets tracking over bronze skin like they’re proud of themselves.

Even now-especially now-he’s unfairly beautiful.

I glance at her. She glances at me. And then her scent hits me.

Lust.

Not just lust.

Lust for him. Right in front of me.

Ryder’s towel sits just right to show the carved lines of his stomach, that sharp V disappearing into the

cloth. A thin trail of hair vanishes beneath it, and the outline… God. The outline is impossible to miss.

My hands start tingling, but it isn’t desire. It’s the opposite. It’s power building with nowhere to go.

He was about to-

In our bed.

Ryder lowers the towel from his head and finally understands what he’s walked into. He looks at me first and smiles, like this is fixable. “Bridget… what’s-”

His head turns.

His face changes. “Fuck. Aurelia.”

That name is a match.

Everything inside me flashes red. My pulse turns violent. Outside, the wind rises like it’s listening. Somewhere in the house, guards shift into position as if they’ve seen this movie before.

Four times, okay. Only four times. But apparently all it takes is one woman in my mate’s bed for my

magic to show its full teeth.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I scream.

My hands don’t feel like mine. Mystique takes the wheel.

Aurelia jerks off the floor, lifted by nothing I can see, and slams into the wall hard enough to rattle the

room.

“Bridget!” Ryder barks. “Let her go. I can explain.”

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I shake my head at him, fighting not to let a tear break free. It’s not just what I’m seeing.

It’s him-protecting her.

I have never trusted anyone the way I have trusted him. The hurt is physical.

“Don’t you dare,” I shout.

Footsteps pound up the stairs. I throw a force field into place, and the sound of them stops short like

they’ve hit an invisible barrier.

“God damn it, Bridget. Look-” Ryder moves toward me.

I lift him too.

He hits the wall beside her, pinned like a display piece.

Fine. If they want to be together so badly, they can hang there together.

“Bridget,” he says, voice tight, trying for calm. “It’s not what it looks like. Listen to me. Breathe.

Please.”

Aurelia has the nerve to echo him. “Yes, Bridget, listen to him.”

Ryder and I both cut our eyes to her like: are you serious?

“You don’t get to talk,” I tell her.

Her lips seal shut.

I freeze for a beat, shocked at myself.

She starts muffling sounds through pressed skin, and somehow that looks better on her.

Ryder struggles against the hold, but my magic doesn’t budge. “Bridget… she- Just take a deep breath. Calm down. Baby, please.”

“When has telling a woman to calm down ever worked?” I snap.

He has no comeback, just anger and strain as he thrashes. So my power is stronger than his. Good to

know.

“You were going to sleep with her?”

“No!” He shakes his head as much as the magic allows. “I didn’t even know she was out here!”

“You’re an Alpha,” I hiss. “And you didn’t sense a woman in your own bedroom? Liar.”

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Aurelia continues her muffled little noises, and suddenly I can’t breathe in this room anymore.

“Have you slept with her?” I ask, even though my gut is already answering.

His jaw tightens. “Yes. Before. Yes.” His voice breaks into frustration. “Damn it, Bridget-put us down.

Now.”

I knew it. I did.

But hearing him say it cracks something open in me, and the worst part is he’s still trying to shield her

like she matters more than the wound he’s carving into me.

The door shakes under heavy pounding.

Evelyn. Or her mother. Someone has gotten through the barrier.

“You want to protect her?” I say, every word scraping. “Go ahead, I’m done.”

Handing control to Mystique is easy.

Too easy.

We shift, and it doesn’t hurt at all-maybe because what’s inside my chest has already shattered.

What else could possibly compete with that?

I fall back into the far corner of my mind. My view blurs into hers.

Ryder and Aurelia are still pinned, still muted by my magic.

I curl in on myself and cry while Mystique wraps around me like a promise.

Her silver coat throws light as she launches through the third-floor window.

We hit the open air and then the trees.

Wind and drizzle slick our fur, cooling the rage into something quieter, almost soothing. Mystique runs faster than I’ve ever imagined possible. The world smears into dark streaks.

Alarms wail behind us.

I hear pack wolves giving chase.

A river cuts across our path, and my fear spikes-but Mystique doesn’t hesitate. She clears it in one full leap.

When we land, I know. We’re out of territory.

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She keeps going for what feels like forever. Miles and miles, until even she starts to flag.

We finally stop near a small brook.

I let her rest as long as she needs, because I have no idea what comes next.

‘Bridget,’ Mystique asks inside me, ‘what do you want to do now?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admit. ‘But I don’t think I fit with him. Or his pack. She looked like she fit what he

wanted.’

‘We both know he will come for you. For us. Talon will find me.’

‘I told him I was done,’ I say. ‘We haven’t marked. He can mark her.’

‘That’s true,’ she replies, ‘but you also know you didn’t reject him properly. And you know the right way.’

She’s right. I’ve read the history. I’ve memorized the rules.

To end it, I have to reject him correctly-and he has to reject me back.

Even broken the way I am, I can’t make myself hurt him like that. Not when, in this short span of time, I have already fallen in love with him.

‘So what do we do?’ I whisper to her. ‘Mystique… I can’t keep feeling pain like this. I’m exhausted.’

‘Tell him exactly what you just told me.’

Inod.

A branch snaps.

Then another.

Rotting stench floods the air.

Rogues.

‘Mystique, we have to go!’

‘Now!’ she answers.

We tear through the woods.

Six-seven-wolves crash after us, and their voices carry between the trees as they chant, “Omni-Wolf!

Omni-Wolf!”

Cold panic slides down my spine.

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Mystique angles toward the city, gambling on numbers and noise, on the fact that humans know we exist there and that maybe-maybe-we can reach a safe house.

We sprint along the edge of a field where tall trees line the open stretch.

They gain.

One rogue launches onto our back. We roll hard, dirt and leaves exploding around us. Teeth clamp into my hind leg.

I yelp.

Mystique whips around, claws extending, and rips into the attacker’s belly. Organs spill onto the

ground.

Another rogue goes for our ankle. Mystique kicks back with her other hind leg and drives it straight

into a tree.

The impact is final.

Dead.

Two more hit at once.

Mystique catches one by the throat, bites down, then flings the body across the field like it weighs

nothing.

We are moving again-actually getting somewhere-until two more appear.

Now there are three.

They push us back until bark presses against my spine. A tree at our back. No room left.

And then I notice someone behind them.

“Enough,” a man says, his accent thick.

A blade flashes.

Three heads drop cleanly, bodies collapsing in a heap.

He kneels in front of us with an easy smile.

His fangs show.

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A vampire.

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“Hello, my beautiful mate,” he says softly. “I have waited hundreds of years for you. I am St. Vincent.”

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The Omni-Wolf’s Choice