The Omni-Wolf’s Choice novel Chapter 48

Chapter 48 A date with a witch…

Ryder’s POV

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Night swallows the road as we roll in just outside Salt Lake City. The cabin we’ve secured is big enough for everyone to crash, and if everything goes right, we won’t be here long-get in, get what we

came for, get out.

Back to the pack.

Back to my mate.

Every second away from her, it’s like the bond digs deeper anyway. I’m still falling, and I don’t think

there’s a bottom.

An hour later, I’ve already spoken with Bridget, and I’ve checked with my mom-Evelyn is still unconscious. We’re set. Positioned. Waiting for the moment to move.

There’s a small village about an hour outside the city, tucked away like it doesn’t want to be found. It’s packed with magical beings, and we’ve got allies all through it-pack members who followed their

mates here and made new lives among them.

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Farther out, at the edge of that village, a pocket of witches keeps to self. Their protection is their craft: wards, glamours, and the kind of concealment that makes human eyes slide right past. You

don’t find their houses unless they allow it.

Violet and her witches have already tracked the exact location. Montgomery is here to stir the pot and draw eyes if we need it. Thermal scans from our warriors suggest five inside. That’s manageable.

Manageable doesn’t mean safe. Not with witches.

The target cottage sits too cheerful for the darkness-a yellow exterior with brown trim, like a storybook that ends with bones in the oven. On the porch, a rocking chair moves with a slow, steady

creak.

No one’s sitting in it.

‘This place is creepy as shit,’ Connor mind-links.

I let out a low laugh. ‘Yeah. Still not walking away without that witch.’

I open the link to everyone. “Connor, take Violet and half the warriors around back. Montgomery, you’re with me. We go in through the front. Keep channels open the entire time. Confirm.”

“Yes, Alpha,” comes back in a tight chorus.

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We break apart, melting into position. Our steps are controlled, silent. I don’t want so much as a snapped twig.

‘Alpha, movement inside-looks like the kitchen,’ Merrick sends. He’s with my front team, eyes on the

cottage.

‘Nothing at the rear,’ Connor reports a beat later. ‘But the back porch has rocking chairs moving by

themselves.’

Of course it does.

‘Violet,’ I ask, ‘can you bind their power from out here? Are we close enough?’

‘No,’ she answers immediately. ‘Five feet or less. I need proximity to the witch or warlock I’m binding.’

‘Then we do it the hard way.’ I pull in a slow breath. ‘On my count. Adrienne-stay outside with Nash. Watch our six. Everyone else goes in. Hit fast, round them up. Don’t kill unless you have to, and do not kill Ingrid. She comes with us alive. Copy?’

‘Copy, Alpha.’

My countdown starts.

‘Three…’

It’s wild, the things that slip into your head before violence. Bridget’s face flashes there like a promise.

I can feel her energy even now, like it’s wired into my veins. Even without both marks in place, I’ve already tasted pieces of what she can do.

And she’s… she’s more than I have words for.

‘Two…’

But wanting her, missing her, dreaming about what comes after-none of that matters if I let it cost someone their life. The second I drift is the second someone bleeds.

I won’t be the reason one of my soldiers doesn’t make it home.

‘One. Move!’

We crash onto the cottage from every side: We’re soundless until boots meet wood-then the porch

itself turns on us.

A section of floor drops open.

A trap.

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The boards vanish beneath my weight, and for a heartbeat I’m falling into a shaft of pure dark. Far below, my eyes catch the glint of spikes-hundreds of feet down, waiting.

Talon surges into me, power and momentum, and I throw myself forward. We clear the opening by

inches and hit the door.

I slam my boot through it.

They know we’re here.

‘Traps,’ I warn through the link as we pour inside. ‘Assume everything is trapped.’

The interior doesn’t match the cottage at all. It’s larger-far larger-like the outside is a lie wrapped

around a different space.

Illusion. Typical.

My entire front team clears the porch trap and stacks in behind me.

‘Copy,’ Connor sends.

The living room is dim and stale, dust thick in the air like it’s been undisturbed for decades. Furniture shapes sit beneath draped sheets. The fireplace is the only spot that looks cared for, and above it hangs a portrait with no cover.

A woman stares out from the canvas.

Jet-black hair slicked back. A dress straight out of the early 1900s. Eyes dark as coal.

And the frame-clean. Polished. Like someone wipes it down every day.

I signal for a split search and we push toward a set of French doors.

Talon growls before I even step through.

I stop the team with a raised fist. Instead of walking in, I grab a pillow from a nearby settee and lob it

into the dining room.

The air erupts.

Arrows flash from both sides, shredding the pillow mid-flight and slamming into walls and chairs.

Then the smell hits.

Wolfsbane.

The arrowheads-spears, really-are slicked with it.

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‘Nice one,’ I murmur to Talon. He dips his head, still tense, still ready.

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We thread our way through the embedded shafts with slow, deliberate steps. The dining table is

coated in dust. We make the hall without touching a thing.

Montgomery peels left. I take right.

Then he throws up a hand.

Freeze.

He mind-links Noelle. A breath later, she releases a spell, and a cool mist spills down the hallway-

revealing thin red lines crisscrossing the space.

A laser grid.

No quick disarm.

‘I can handle it,’ Merrick says.

He opens a kit at his hip, pulls out a compact tripod and two reflective mirrors, and starts working like this is routine. Careful angles. Slow adjustments. The beams shift without triggering.

When he finally nods, we step around his setup and reach the staircase.

I push the link out to everyone. ‘Connor-my team goes upstairs. Yours clears your section, then sweep down below. Confirm.’

‘Confirmed, Alpha.’

We take the stairs hugging the outer edge. Night vision on. Every board is old enough to betray us with

a single creak, so we move like we’re walking on glass.

At the top, a long hallway stretches ahead. Door after door, all of them locked.

Noelle lifts her hand, sensing. Her gaze sharpens, and she nods toward the second door.

I reach for the lock.

It snaps open from the inside before my fingers touch it.

“Look, sister,” an elderly voice rasps. “Company.”

Another voice-identical-answers immediately. “I smell mutts.”

The door swings wider.

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Two old witches stand there like mirrored nightmares.

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“Oh, sister,” the second coos, eyes glittering. “Can I keep that one? He’d make such a sweet pet.”

In the corner, two desks sit side by side. Chained to each, a rogue wolf strains against iron, snarling, muscles corded with rage.

Controlled.

Montgomery’s mouth curls. “Sorry, ladies. I’ve got an age cap on who I sleep with. Triple digits is way past my limit.”

A laugh slips out of me despite myself.

“Shame,” the first witch says, and her smile turns mean. “Then we’ll just kill you.”

They start chanting in unison, hands slicing the air.

Lightning launches from their palms as they rush us in synchronized strides.

Max and I dive opposite directions. Bolts crack the wall where we stood. Noelle stays in the entryway, building something under her breath.

The other two warriors break off to engage the rogues the moment the chains are released.

The witches hit hard-fast feet, sharp elbows, and no hesitation. Both of them drive kicks into our

chests, muttering a spell.

Max and I open our mouths to shout-nothing.

Sealed.

I glance back.

Noelle gives a quick, tight nod.

Good.

Max and I grab the witches, haul them over our shoulders, and slam them down. One claws for Max’s

chest, and he turns just enough to avoid striking her.

He leans close, voice low and lethal. “Listen, witch. I don’t hit women. But I will end you right here if

you keep pushing.”

She stills.

So does her sister.

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I step forward, keeping my posture controlled even with my voice locked away. I make the words clear when I speak-meant for them, meant for everyone.

“We’re here for Ingrid. She put a threat on my sister. I want to know why.”

Both witches stop fighting entirely. Their rogues, abruptly compliant, return to their places beside the desks.

The first witch points at her sealed mouth, brow arched.

I look to Noelle and nod once.

She releases the spell.

Air rushes back into the room like relief.

“Ingrid,” the first witch says with a sigh. “Of course. We should’ve guessed. She’s always been the

problem.”

Her twin hums. “She is entertaining, though.”

“My sister is unconscious,” I snap. “I’m not here for entertainment. I need Ingrid. Now.”

The first witch’s expression shifts into something almost polite. “Forgive Lydia. We don’t often get

visitors.” She gestures toward herself. “I’m Camille. That’s Lydia. Ingrid belongs to our coven. She

comes and goes.”

Camille sits at her desk, stroking her rogue’s fur like it’s a lapdog.

Then she looks up. “Are you planning to kill her?”

I don’t soften it. “That depends on what she tells me.”

Camille nods once, as if she appreciates the honesty. “Thank you for not lying. But I can’t allow you to

murder one of mine. You understand.”

Her finger presses a button hidden on the desk.

The floor gives way.

All five of us drop.

Darkness rushes up, swallowing the room above. I snag Lydia on the way down-arm locked around

her so she falls with us.

Camille’s scream trails after us, raw with panic. “Lydia!”

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