The Omni-Wolf’s Choice novel Chapter 27

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Ryder’s POV

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Seeing his hands on her makes something inside me go feral. I want him torn apart, piece by piece.

She feels me closing in. She knows we’ve boxed them in. I can sense her strength climbing, like a tide

pulling back before it crashes. She could’ve dropped him whenever she wanted. She’s been waiting-

waiting to find out if I’d come.

I always come. No matter where she is. No matter what’s been done.

My unit has already cleared the camp-every breathing accomplice who helped keep her captive is

down. That leaves one.

The bastard touching my mate.

“I’m here,” I breathe, more to her than to the night, while Talon surges forward at full force. I’ve never felt my beast this furious, and I’m begging the moon goddess I never have to feel it again.

“I know,” she answers, still hammering St. Vincent with hit after hit. Talon hasn’t seen her wolf in fur before, and watching her restrained by a bloodsucker is shoving him deeper into rage.

I snap a command down the bond to our warriors.

‘Thirty-foot perimeter. Lock it down around the Luna. He doesn’t slip out. Understood.”

‘Yes, Alpha.’

‘Connor. Lucas. Pierce. The second she’s out of his grip, you cover her.’

‘With our lives!’

This isn’t just a mission. This is mine. But if I’m going to end St. Vincent, I need to know she’s

protected while I do it. Wiping him out-him and whatever bloodline made him-is the bare minimum.

My opening comes when my mate stops striking and lifts her gaze, staring straight into his eyes.

Her expression flickers-shock catching in her reflection-because Talon hits him like lightning,

tackling him hard into the dirt.

Talon doesn’t waste time on words. He prefers dismemberment while his prey is still aware enough to understand what’s happening.

Claws flash.

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He rakes St. Vincent’s face. Blood erupts in a hot spray. The vampire’s jaw hangs by a thread, but

Talon doesn’t slow. He seizes his throat and hurls him into a tree with a sickening impact.

“You stupid mutt!” St. Vincent chokes, gargling through his own blood as he tries to hold his ruined face together. “Do you have any idea how many will come for her after me? They won’t stop!”

Talon’s answer is a low, deadly rumble. “Then I’ll kill every last one. One at a time.”

His claws sink into St. Vincent’s side. The scream that follows is…music. Talon tears the wound wider

with his right hand, drives in deep, and yanks out the first organ he finds. He shreds it without mercy.

St. Vincent howls.

Talon exhales like he’s savoring it.

Then he grabs the vampire by the legs and swings him-hard-into another tree. Bone cracks. More. The night carries the sound.

Behind us, the camp is already burning. Flames lick at what’s left of the bodies and the wreckage. We

need this finished.

‘Talon. Enough. End him. Then go to our mate,’ I order.

Talon pauses, but his focus never leaves his victim. He clamps down on St. Vincent’s neck, forces his eyes open, and with his free hand he rips straight into the chest and pulls the heart out.

He bites into it.

And makes him watch as the light drains away.

When it’s done, Talon tears St. Vincent’s head clean off and flings it into the fire.

He rises onto his hind legs, drenched in blood, and throws his howl up to the moon. The pack answers,

voices weaving together while the flames roar.

Then Talon turns.

He approaches Mystique slowly, ears pinned back, massive body lowered as if she might vanish if he

moves too fast. She’s curled at the base of a tree, tight and small for all her power.

Our warriors give us distance, already preparing to move out.

‘Mate,’ Talon says, cautious as he closes the last steps.

‘Hello, mate,’ Mystique returns.

They nuzzle, wolf to wolf, relief pressed into the simple contact. Talon sniffs along her, nudging her

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torso and giving a playful nip at her fur-trying to coax her back to steady.

But when he shifts lower toward her hind legs, she jerks violently.

A sharp yelp slices the air.

Instantly, her pain slams through the bond.

She’s been hiding it. The whole time.

“Talon, give me control,” I demand.

‘No. Our mate is hurt!’

“I know,” I push back, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “That’s why I have to take over and help her. Now. Please.”

Talon exhales-frustrated, unwilling-then releases.

I blink into control, naked in the cold night, and I couldn’t care less. She’s injured.

I lean in, searching through silvery fur soaked in blood. Too much blood. Some of it might be St. Vincent’s. Some of it might be ours. I can’t tell yet.

A warning growl rolls from her.

“Mystique,” I keep my voice gentle even as my chest burns. “I need to find the wound. We have to heal

you. I don’t know how much you’ve lost. Please-let me-”

She snaps at me when my hand reaches out.

Talon surges forward in my mind, a heavy presence. ‘Mystique! Let us help.’

She eases-barely-turning her head away, still bristling.

Feisty. Just like Bridget.

I part her fur carefully. As my fingers near her hind legs, she starts to whimper, the sound tight with

pain.

And there it is.

A deep gash. A wolf bite.

My vision narrows. Rage flashes hot.

“Mystique,” I say through my teeth, “give Bridget control so I can heal her properly.”

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She huffs at me-pure attitude.

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We are absolutely having a conversation when we’re home and she’s marked. Did she just…roll her eyes? Can wolves roll their eyes? Apparently, yes.

I shove the thought aside. Later.

Right now, she needs help.

Bridget’s naked form takes over in front of me. The scent of her hits my lungs and my pack, and I feel

our warriors turn away without being told-smart enough not to test Talon or me.

I kneel closer and take her thigh gently.

The bite is ugly. Deep.

A growl slips out of me anyway, the need for vengeance instinctive.

“He was already killed for touching me,” Bridget says, flinching as I press my hand over the wound.

The bond flares-warm, steady.

Healing.

I mind-link one of the female warriors for clothing. She approaches with a bundle, and Bridget immediately growls at her.

The warrior freezes, then wisely tosses the clothes toward us and retreats.

I can’t help the small curve of my mouth. After everything tonight, that possessiveness still lives in her.

I pull a large T-shirt over her first, covering her, then dress myself quickly. One of our witches steps in and places her hands over Bridget’s thigh; I join, and we work together.

Bridget grimaces, jaw tight, holding herself as still as she can while the magic knits her back enough

for travel.

When the wound stabilizes, I scoop her into my arms.

I’m not putting her down again. Not anytime soon.

In the vehicle, I strap her in beside me, the belt secure. She immediately curls into my chest and tries to

speak.

“Ryder…”

“Shh,” I murmur, kissing her forehead. “Rest. We’ll talk once we’re home.”

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Her body relaxes against mine. Sleep takes her quickly.

That caramel scent-hers-settles Talon and me in a way nothing else can.

We’re just…so damn grateful she’s back in our arms.

Bridget’s POV

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Once the doctors gave me a clean bill of health-and confirmed, again, that the vampire hadn’t violated me in any way-Ryder finally stopped looking like he might tear the hospital apart.

He lets me leave the private wing.

The room they’d put me in is easily the most luxurious place I’ve ever been. And the bite mark? It has almost faded, down to a light bruise. Still tender, though. The doctor says it might leave a faint mark.

“The bruising and soreness should be gone in a day or two,” Dr. Yvette tells us. “It was a very deep bite, but your healing abilities have already accelerated the recovery.”

I glance down, thinking of my gown for tomorrow. “Great. The dress I planned has that slit. This is going to show. I guess I’m wearing the backup.”

Dr. Yvette’s expression shifts into something amused. “There is a way to speed it up even more.”

Her eyes flick to Ryder.

He smiles like a smug Cheshire cat.

“What way?” I ask, then follow her look to him. Realization hits. “Oh…right. Got it.”

Mating. Marking.

Just the thought makes my thighs press together. I hate that he can probably see it on my face.

He definitely sees it.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow for a follow-up,” Dr. Yvette says, stepping back. “Enjoy the ball, Alpha.

Luna.”

“Thank you,” Ryder and I say at the same time.

He takes my hand, and we leave the room. The day has been unreal-terror, adrenaline, rage, relief-

and now all I want is a bed and darkness.

It’s around ten at night when we walk through the corridors with warriors trailing behind. Back at the

castle, we head for our floor.

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Ryder turns us toward the elevator.

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As we step in, he gives the warriors a small nod that keeps them outside. The doors slide shut and the

lift starts upward.

Then he hits the stop button.

My breath catches.

He’s on me in seconds, boxing me in with his arms braced on either side of my head, pinning me to the wall without hurting me at all. His mouth hovers a breath away.

I lean forward, needing the taste of him.

When our lips meet, it’s immediate-electric, grounding, consuming.

One kiss.

And then he pulls back.

He stays close enough that the fine hairs on my arms lift.

“Bridget,” he says.

“Ryder.”

His eyes are intense, raw. “I don’t think you understand what you do to me. How completely you wreck me. You live in my head. I’m….crazy about you.”

My throat tightens.

“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you,” he continues, voice low. “You make me pray for the moon so night will hurry up and I can get the sun again-just to see it across your face. You’re my world. You’re every piece of my future. And from this moment on, I swear you’ll never feel anything but

safe and loved.”

I blink, stunned. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

He exhales, forehead nearly touching mine. “First, I’m sorry. I didn’t invite her to my room. I didn’t know she’d be there. I will never cheat on you. That’s on me to make clear.”

I’m still processing when he adds, “And we have a meeting in my office. Right now.”

He presses the button to restart the elevator.

I frown. “A meeting with who?”

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My brain immediately supplies the worst possibility: a lineup of past women. I’m trying to be better, but still.

“With everyone involved in what happened earlier,” he says. “Just hear everyone out, okay?”

“Okay.”

He laces our fingers together and guides me out when the doors open. We walk straight to his office.

At the door, he leans in and kisses my cheek-soft, steady-then squeezes my hand.

“I’m your person,” he murmurs. “If you need to step out, if you need a break…”

“…I’ll mind-link you,” I finish, giving him a small smile.

Because he’s right. He is my person.

He always has been.

Tomorrow, everyone is going to know I exist. And then the real test starts-how the women from his past react, how much chaos they bring, and how many different species decide they want what’s

mine.

What’s ours.

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