The Omni-Wolf’s Choice novel Chapter 54

Chapter 54 Don’t Stay Up…

Connor’s POV

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“Connor, after we eat, you’re coming with Dr. Kira and Sorcerer Violet. We’re waking Ingrid and seeing if she’s ready to talk.” Alpha Ryder says.

“Understood, Alpha.”

Ryder barely lets the plates settle before he turns to Lucas. “Pull up the floor plans for Club Blackwood. I want everything on their security setup.”

“On it, Alpha,” Lucas answers.

Bridget leans in, voice tight with excitement. “Hold on-does that mean you’re actually letting us go to the club for my birthday?”

“Wait, for real?” I ask, honestly stunned.

“I’m not ‘letting’ anything happen until I’ve seen it myself,” Ryder says, then kisses his mate like the world doesn’t exist outside that moment. “We check it first. We look at every option. It has to be

completely safe.”

I can’t help watching them. Before Bridget, Ryder had been my mirror image where women were concerned-until the second he knew she was his. Then it was like someone rewired him overnight. I

wish mine could flip that clean.

Ryder pushes back from the table. “Alright. Let’s move.”

We head down to the cells. Dr. Kira is already there, and Violet joins us at the entrance. I’d also had Beatrix brought in. If a woman is evil, we won’t hesitate to end her-but if it comes to getting physical,

our female warriors handle female prisoners whenever possible.

The containment room is a metal dome, sealed tight, built like it could drop into the ocean and keep its

breath like a submarine.

Inside, magic gets strangled at the source. Violet anchors her power into the interior foils and pulls everything toward herself. The harder Ingrid tries to cast, the more it backfires-her effort bleeds off and feeds Violet instead. A brutal little exchange.

Dr. Kira readies the syringe and runs it into Ingrid’s IV. Ingrid is strapped to a chair that belongs in an execution chamber: restraints at wrists, ankles, torso, and a metal basin rigged with wires sitting over her head.

A few seconds pass. Her eyelids start twitching.

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<Chapter 54 Don’t Stay Up.

Then they open. She squints against the light aimed straight at her face.

“Rise and shine, Ingrid,” Ryder says, taking the seat in front of her like he has all day.

Ingrid’s gaze sharpens. “Where am I? You mutts snatch me?”

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Ryder’s expression doesn’t move. “Don’t flatter yourself. We detained a suspect charged with a crime.

That’s all.”

Her mouth twists. “And what crime would that be?”

“Murder,” Ryder answers.

She laughs like it’s a private joke. “Murder? Oh, please. I thought we were having a moment, you little asshole. Now you’re going to lie to my face?”

“No one’s lying,” Ryder says, voice colder. “Two people died because of what you did. You’ll answer for that.” He leans in a fraction. “And you’re going to tell us why you brought your chaos to this pack.”

Ingrid smiles-wrong, sharp, delighted. Her eyes roam the room, collecting faces like trophies. When she reaches me, she pauses, holding my stare longer than she should.

“What doth a man love more than life and hate more than death,” she recites.

“I’m not here for riddles,” I snap. “Why did you target Evelyn?”

Her grin widens. “Isn’t it obvious? If you want to wound the ocean… you steal the sea.”

Beatrix steps in without a word, yanks the metal bowl off Ingrid’s head, and drives her fist into Ingrid’s

face.

Ingrid drops-out cold before she finishes falling.

Every head turns to Beatrix.

“She was getting on my last nerve,” Beatrix says flatly. “And she wasn’t saying anything useful.”

Violet bites back a laugh. Dr. Kira moves in, checks Ingrid’s vitals, then looks at Ryder.

“She’s going to be unconscious for a while, Alpha.”

Ryder exhales once. “Fine. You and Violet sedate her and put her back under. We try again tomorrow.”

Violet and Dr. Kira secure the witch, and the rest of us file out of the dungeon together, heading back

up toward Ryder’s office.

In the office, the bottle comes out. Whiskey pours, conversation starts, and people loosen up around

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< Chapter 54 Don’t Stay Up…

the edges. I wait until there’s a gap, then I cross to Violet.

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She studies me like she’s been expecting this. “Beta Connor. You look well. What do you need?”

“I was hoping I could come talk to you,” I say. “It’s been a while since I visited the coven.”

Her eyes narrow just a touch-knowing. “Whatever you’re circling around, I’ll help. Tomorrow? Noon- ish?”

Relief hits hard. “Yes. Noon works. Thank you, Violet. I mean it.”

She nods once and returns to the group.

I drift to the window. Ryder is already watching me through the reflection, like he’s been keeping track

the whole time. I meet his gaze, give him a small nod.

He knows something is wrong.

And I’m not going to be able to hide it from him much longer.

I just don’t know what happens to us when he finally hears the truth.

The night drags like it’s determined to break me.

I’ve run the perimeter. I’ve punished the weights in the gym. I’ve reorganized storage units on the

outskirts like it matters. I’ve taken three showers, as if water could rinse off impatience.

Now I’m sitting in the dark, drink in hand, staring at nothing.

Waiting.

It’s 11:55.

Does that woman not have a curfew? Did anyone give her one? I can’t call Ryder to ask-he’s

practically handing his sister over to my cousin with a bow on top.

They went to Donatello’s in town. Twenty-six minutes there, and on a weeknight the place isn’t packed,

so the food comes fast. They should have wrapped by nine-thirty. Ten, latest, walking back in.

This is bullshit.

‘Drake, can you feel Zephyr yet?’

‘No.’ His tone is pure bite. ‘And even if I could, I wouldn’t tell you. This is your fault.’

Then he slams a wall up between us and turns away inside my head.

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< Chapter 54 Don’t Stay Up

Stubborn doesn’t even cover it.

Evelyn’s POV

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и Мелка

Stepping into the pack house, I feel like I’m floating. Alpha Patrick was… effortless. Kind. Funny. The kind of man who makes a night feel easy instead of complicated.

Dinner had been perfect. I’d had lasagna with a salad and those homemade garlic knots, still warm when they hit the table. Patrick ordered chicken parmigiana, and we shared bites back and forth the way people do when they actually like each other.

We talked the entire time-no awkward pauses, no strain.

Now we walk down the hall toward my door, shoulder to shoulder.

“Evelyn,” he says quietly, stopping with me. “I had a really good time tonight. I’d like to do it again while

I’m still here.”

“I’d love that,” I tell him, smiling up at his face.

He looks unfairly good in black slacks and a black button-down, his New Zealand tan catching the light like he’s been made for it.

He leans closer-not a kiss, not quite. Just near enough to leave his scent on my skin, close enough that I catch cinnamon on his breath before he pulls back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says.

“Goodnight,” I reply, waving as he disappears down the corridor.

And then Connor is my very next thought.

I slip into my dark room, close the door, and stand there with my palms against it, breathing in the

quiet.

“Connor,” I say into the darkness, not pretending I don’t know. I’d smelled rain the moment I hit this floor. “Why are you in here?”

His outline separates from the shadows-sitting in one of the chairs in my small sitting area, a drink in his hand. He looks too relaxed for how intense the air feels. Even his hair, usually neat, is messed up.

“I needed to know you got back safe,” he says, voice low.

I hear the single ice cube tap the glass.

“I’m capable of getting home,” I tell him. “And you knew I’d made it when I passed the gate. Or the

second checkpoint. Or the front doors.”

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His eyes lift. Green-glowing. “I had to see it.”

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I swallow. I’ve never seen his eyes do that. “Okay. Well… you’ve seen me. I’m exhausted.”

“Did you enjoy your night?” he asks, rising.

He sets his drink down and walks toward me, and the room feels smaller with every step. He’s in

pajama pants and a white tank top that clings to every line of muscle.

My body reacts instantly-traitorously-and I know he can smell it.

“Yes,” I manage. “It was a really wonderful evening.”

My throat tightens. He’s too close. He smells too good. I want things I shouldn’t.

He tips my chin up until I’m forced to meet him.

“My eyes are up here, Evelyn,” he says, jaw flexing.

“I know that,” I blurt, mortified.

His voice drops. “I need you to take your clothes off.”

“What?” Heat floods my face. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You smell like him,” Connor says, and the words come out rough. “Drake and I can only handle so

much.”

I stare at him, pulse hammering. “Well you’re the one who didn’t want to claim me, so-”

“Take them off,” he cuts in, eyes burning, “or I will.”

“You wouldn’t,” I say.

His claws slide out.

In one clean motion, my sweater splits straight down the middle.

“Connor Reynolds!” I gasp.

My skirt follows, sliced so neatly it drops to the floor like it was made to fall.

I’m still forming a curse when he’s on me-his mouth taking mine.

His hands bury in my hair, ripping my bun free, gripping hard enough to make my scalp tingle. His tongue pushes in, claiming space, and my body answers like it’s been waiting all night.

He drags his palms over my skin, and I feel the hard press of him against my stomach.

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I want him inside me so badly it hurts.

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Connor sinks to his knees, pinning me to the door with his body. He lowers his face to my panties and

pulls them aside with one hand.

Then his mouth finds me.

My moan turns into his name. I fumble for the privacy button on the wall, hit it, and then my fingers

twist in his hair as he lifts one of my legs, then the other, hooking them over his shoulders.

He raises me off the floor like I weigh nothing and eats me like he’s starving.

I feel myself slicking his lips; he chases every drop like he refuses to waste any of it.

He groans my name against me, and the vibration wrecks me.

Still holding me, he carries me to the bed, hands gripping my ass. He lays me down with a gentleness

that doesn’t match his eyes, then presses my legs flat to the mattress, trapping me.

I shut my eyes as his tongue flicks over my most sensitive spot, again and again, pushing me higher.

“Connor!” I cry.

He stops-just to look up, smiling like sin.

Then he slides a finger inside me.

“Look at me, Evelyn,” he orders.

I lift onto my elbows, watching him like I can’t stop. His tongue works me while his finger moves with

brutal precision, and it’s too much and not enough.

His eyes flare green again.

“Don’t stop,” I beg. “Please.”

A second finger joins the first, and the stretch makes me gasp. He drives them deep, like my body has been built around his hand.

His mouth goes faster.

“Come for me,” he says, voice thick. “Show me what’s mine.”

The orgasm crashes through me. My whole body shakes as if lightning has found a home in my bones. Stars burst behind my eyes.

I feel weightless, wrecked, and I scream his name-again, and again, and again.

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