The Omni-Wolf’s Choice novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72 A Small Window to Breathe…

Bridget’s POV

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A nasty dread has been sitting in my gut. I keep walking circles in Ryder’s office, unable

to settle. I need him close, even if it’s only the trace of him-his scent clinging to the

room, near the center of everything happening.

Alpha Marcus and Beta Curtis have been coordinating efforts to get Connor back. The

witches have been weaving spells. Warriors have been staged and waiting.

It’s chaos, but it’s useful. If I stop moving, I’ll start thinking.

Then it hits.

A sharp, vicious spear of pain drives straight through my chest. My hand slaps over my

heart and a scream tears out of me before I can swallow it.

“Luna! What’s going on?” Kendra rushes in, panic flashing across her face.

“Ryder,” I force out through clenched teeth.

I shut my eyes and reach for him. He’s there-alive. Not fine, not untouched, but not

fading. The injury isn’t catastrophic.

I yank my shirt aside. A red bruise stains my skin, right where he’s been cut… or stabbed.

I can’t tell which yet.

“Listen!” I bark, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “I want the hospital fully ready

the second that portal opens. Every unit on standby. Check blood reserves-if we’re

short, start donations now. Immediately.”

“Understood, Luna,” someone answers. Rosanna, I think.

I can’t hold onto names.

Another strike of pain knifes in.

But it isn’t mine.

And it isn’t Ryder’s.

I spin out of the office and run, chasing the direction my instincts shove me toward. My

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<Chapter 72 A Small Window to Breathe..

feet take me straight to the library.

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Evelyn is on the floor, curled tight, shaking and screaming like her body is trying to split

apart.

“Everyone out!” I roar.

Sienna, Archer, and Alpha Patrick are already crouched near her, frantic and helpless.

“Patrick,” I hiss, leaning in, “get Luna Kendra. Now.”

He’s gone in an instant.

“Bridget-what is happening?” Archer’s voice wavers, fear raw in it.

“I need Dr. Yvette here. Both of you-go. Run,” I order.

Archer and Sienna bolt.

Iron Fang moves in close beside me, a solid presence while I drop to Evelyn.

I pull at her shirt, searching for blood, for a wound, for anything that explains this.

Instead I find it.

A bruise-deep, dark, angry red-far worse than the one blooming on me. The kind of

mark that looks like violence trapped beneath skin.

Sympathy.

But she isn’t Ryder’s.

So what-siblings? Her brother?

Kendra rushes back in, breathless, and falls to her knees by her daughter.

“Bridget,” she demands, voice tight, “what happened?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, hating how small it sounds. “She’s got the same kind of bruise I

1. Do siblings ever mirror injuries the way mates do?”

Kendra’s hands tremble as she wipes sweat from Evelyn’s forehead with a damp cloth.

“I’ve never heard of it… but maybe. You think Ryder caused it?”

“I honestly don’t-”

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The air shifts.

I hear him before I understand it. Feel him like a blade pressed to my ribs.

Ryder-distressed.

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‘Bridget!’ His mind-link snaps through, ragged with urgency. ‘I need you. We need you at

the portal… it’s Connor.’

My mouth goes dry.

I stare down at Evelyn.

And suddenly the world lines up in a sick, perfect row.

Oh, goddess.

I shove to my feet. “Kendra-get Connor’s mother. Bring her here. Now. It’s Connor.”

Then I’m running again, Iron Fang matching me stride for stride as we cut through the

castle and out to the back of the conservatory.

The portal should appear any second.

‘Ryder? I’m at the portal site,’ I send, pushing the link hard.

Static hisses back at me.

My stomach twists.

“Get Violet. Get every witch you can find-right now,” I tell Iron Fang.

He mind-links. The response is immediate.

Witches appear within seconds, skirts whipping in the wind, eyes sharp with purpose.

“Open it,” I snap, voice breaking anyway. “Make it happen. Now-please.”

No questions. They start chanting, their voices overlapping like weaving threads. I join t

hem, dragging power up from deep inside myself.

Electricity-tiny, biting bolts-skitter through my veins. My vision blurs.

And then the air splits.

The portal blooms open.

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Morni

On the other side: Ryder on the ground, and Connor-barely alive-collapsed beside

him.

A knife is buried in Connor’s chest.

That’s the pain.

That’s what Evelyn has been screaming with.

She must be his mate.

And I have to save him—so I can personally murder him later. Stupid, infuriating.

impossible man.

Warriors rush forward and haul Connor through. Blood has soaked his shirt; it’s

everywhere, slick and dark and spreading.

It looks bad. Worse than bad.

“Back up!” I command, dropping to my knees beside him.

I push magic into him, trying to knit the damage from the inside out. My fingers find the

hilt.

I rip the blade free.

Blood pours harder.

Connor doesn’t even flinch. He’s not conscious. Not responding.

Ryder is on his feet, barking orders. A man is dragged out, hog-tied, snarling, and Ryder

points toward the cells.

“Take him-”

“No,” I cut in, not looking up. “Keep him here.”

My focus stays locked on Connor. My healing isn’t catching. It’s like pouring water into a

cracked bowl-everything I give disappears.

If he were marked, maybe it would anchor him. But I don’t know what’s happening

between him and Evelyn, and I don’t have time to figure it out.

I press both hands over the wound, forcing power through trembling arms.

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“It isn’t enough,” Violet says quietly.

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I look up, tears stinging hot. “I’m not losing anyone,” I say, voice shaking with fury. “Not

on my watch. Not now.”

Violet swallows. “That’s not what I meant. He needs special blood.”

My pulse spikes.

I snatch a blade from Iron Fang and slice my palm.

Blood wells.

I let it spill directly into Connor’s open wound.

I lean down, mouth close to his ear. “Come on, Connor,” I whisper. “Don’t you dare do

this to me. It’s not even my first month.”

Nothing.

My skin is already trying to heal closed. I cut myself again, harsher this time, and tilt my

hand so my blood drips into his mouth.

He has to take it.

He has to.

Violet nods once and starts chanting again, voice steady as stone.

Dr. Kira arrives in a rush, hands moving fast-IV in, commands snapping to the medics.

Connor is loaded and rushed toward the emergency room.

From the ambulance doorway, Kira calls back, “Luna-good work. You stabilized him!”

The doors slam.

The vehicle pulls away.

And then a voice slides in, oily and pleased.

“Now that was entertaining. I’m thrilled I got to witness your little talent up close. A

woman who can drag someone back from the edge with nothing but a taste of her sweet

blood…”

I turn.

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<Chapter 72 A Small Window to Breathe.

Whoever he is, he’s handcuffed.

And still smiling.

I walk straight up and drive my fist into his face.

He staggers and folds, hitting the ground like a broken chair.

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He coughs, then laughs, using his chained hands to smear blood off his lip. “Oh, we

could have so much fun.”

“You are?” I ask, flat and cold.

He lifts his chin like he’s proud of himself. “Balthazar. Warlock of the Darkstone Coven.”

His eyes rake over me. “And your mate. I’ve come to claim what’s mine-starting with a

night in your chambers.”

Ryder steps forward, murder written in every line of him.

I stop him with one hand.

Not because Balthazar deserves mercy.

Because I want him awake for it.

“You walked into my home,” I say, stepping closer until he has to look up at me. “You

threatened my family. You hurt my people-my Beta. And you truly think you have a

chance in hell?”

I lean in. “I’m going to kill you.”

Balthazar grins anyway, even with blood on his teeth. “Do I get last rites? A final meal?

Last-”

I don’t let him finish.

My claws drive into his stomach.

His eyes go wide as my fingers sink in, pushing through flesh, searching-moving organs

aside like they’re nothing. I go deeper, hunting for his heart.

He jerks, trying to fight.

I cast a motionless spell.

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He locks in place-alive, aware, able to feel everything, unable to move.

“You should’ve stayed on the right side of me,” I murmur. “You could’ve been an ally. Instead you’re going to be a lesson.”

I clamp my other hand around his arm and rip.

The bone pops out of its socket.

The sound is clean.

His scream is not.

“You crazy bitch!” he manages, but it comes out wet, choked with blood.

His insides are visible now, slipping, trying to spill free.

I lower my voice to a whisper. “What did you call me?”

My hand hooks into his intestines and pulls.

They sag, dangling.

His face turns gray with shock.

“Oh… I…” he tries.

“Your body’s panicking,” I tell him softly, almost conversational. “Your organs are

shutting down. Your brain is ordering you to survive.”

I press claws to the base of his neck.

“And I’m cutting the line.”

I sever it.

His body starts failing in real time, like a machine losing power.

I step back and watch the life drain out of him.

My hands-my arms-my chest-painted red. Even my face is speckled.

“See?” I say, holding my blood-soaked palms up. “Told you you’d love seeing me

drenched in your blood.”

grab his hair, yank his head back, and decapitate him.

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Silence drops like a curtain.

A few people nearby stare, frozen.

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Ryder is beside me instantly, placing himself in my line of sight so I see him instead of what I’ve done. His hands pry my fingers loose; I hadn’t realized I was still gripping the

severed head.

To anyone else, I probably look calm. Controlled.

Ryder knows better.

He knows I’m one heartbeat away from shattering.

He wraps an arm around my waist and guides me toward our suite.

I walk through the halls drenched in blood from head to toe, and I don’t see a single

person.

They’ve cleared the way. Ryder and Iron Fang, protecting me from witnesses.

Inside our rooms, Ryder leads me straight into the bathroom and turns the shower on.

I sit on the counter like I don’t trust my legs.

Mystique is talking-softly, constantly-but my throat won’t cooperate. I can’t answer.

Ryder steps close and starts undressing me with careful hands. A kiss lands on my lips,

then my forehead.

“Come on, my love,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The waterfall feature starts, water pouring over my hair and down my face.

I shut my eyes and finally exhale.

It feels like the first real breath I’ve taken since I killed my mate number three.

What had the moon goddess been thinking, tying me to a man like that?

Ryder doesn’t demand anything from me-no words, no explanations. He just washes

the blood away. He scrubs beneath my nails until the grime is gone.

Then he presses himself against me and holds me there, grounding me.

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I rest my head on his chest.

My fingers trace his abs, then slide up to the scar that’s already healing.

I frown at it.

“I’m fine,” Ryder says lightly. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

I kiss the edge of his wound. He exhales.

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He washes my hair while my hands move up and down his back, memorizing him.

Talon said Mystique is worried. You haven’t answered her,’ Ryder tells me through the

link.

‘I’m sorry, girl,’ I send to her, exhaustion dragging at every thought. ‘It’s just… too much.

Too fast. I’m grateful you’re with me.’

My eyes burn.

There’s still so much to do.

First-Connor.

“How is Connor?” I ask aloud, my voice rough, speaking for the first time in what feels

like forever.

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