The Omni-Wolf’s Choice novel Chapter 93

Chapter 93 Never underestimate a woman…

Bridget’s POV

They’re disgusting.

They keep talking right over me, as if I’m not the whole reason they’re gathered at this table. One after another, they let their eyes crawl over me too-hungry, entitled, brazen.

I shove food across my plate without taking a bite. I already ate the bread. After I “accidentally” knocked over the wine, I asked for water instead-in case the glass had been dosed. I can’t sense poison, but I can feel something else: a pressure, a clamp, something meant to keep my power leashed. This room isn’t built like the cell, yet the

king still sits like a man hiding behind layers.

Layers on top of the biggest one.

He murdered my parents.

The thought burns and aches at the came time Ulic arood cat my entire childhood on fire -foster homes, strangers Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading! mouths that shouldn’t have spoken. Because of him, I grew up with a blank space where my history should’ve

been.

“Bridget,” King Griffin snaps, dragging me back. “Are you even listening? The Count

asked you something.”

I turn to him slowly, letting the anger rise where he can see it. Then I soften my mouth

into a small, polite smile.

“Sorry. What was the question?”

Count Beauregard tips back his wine, bright-eyed like he’s unwrapping a gift. “Is it true

you only came into your powers a few months ago?”

“Yes.”

“But she trained with the elders,” Griffin announces, eager to sell me like property. “They

were stunned by how fast she advanced. Gentlemen, I’m telling you-we’re sitting on a

goldmine.”

I don’t look up from my plate. “Is there a reason your hand is on my thigh?”

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Griffin jolts. “I’m not-”

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“Fae Ruler Octavius?” I lift my eyes to his face, then drop them to his long fingers.

stroking along my leg.

Octavius doesn’t bother pretending. “I’m simply getting acquainted with what belongs to us. Be a good girl and behave.”

I meet his gaze, dead flat. “If you’d like to keep that hand for the next few minutes, take

it off me.”

Lord Fletcher-huge, thick-necked, chewing with his mouth open-grins with meat

caught between his teeth. “I love the bite in her. Breaking her is going to be a joy.”

Griffin twists a strand of my hair around his finger. “Oh, she’ll be entertaining.”

Beauregard leans forward, eager. “So when do we get our turn?”

A laugh slips out of me-light, almost girlish.

Octavius narrows his eyes. “What’s funny?”

“What’s funny,” I say, still smiling, “is that all of you think you’re leaving this table alive.”

I lean back and take a slow sip of water, watching them over the rim the way they’ve

been watching me all night.

Octavius reclines, lips curling into something cruel. “Go on, then. Tell us what you’re

going to do.”

“I’m going to put this fork in your neck,” I say casually. “I’m going to kill you, Fae, with my

plate. And you-Bear-I’ll knock the table over, climb on top of you, and beat your face

in.”

They burst into laughter like I’ve performed for them.

“Such imagination for something so small,” Octavius murmurs. “All that power, and still

so much to be taught.”

Griffin’s eyes glitter. “And me?”

“You,” I tell him, “I’m doing last. I want time to make it slow.”

Griffin folds his arms, pleased. “I cannot wait to see you try.”

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Fletcher booms another laugh. “Death by plate! Creative little thing-ha!”

I glance up at the clock. The second hand crawls.

Three.

Two.

One.

My fork drives into Octavius’s throat.

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His eyes go wide, and blood erupts hot and fast. Before anyone can process it, I rip up my plate and hurl it with everything in me. It slams into Beauregard’s skull and bites in-

hard enough to take his right eye with it.

I shove back from the table and use my legs to ram the whole thing into Fletcher. Chair

and all, he topples backward, crashing to the floor.

I flip the table and straddle him.

My fists start working.

I feel bone give-nose first, then the socket, then the jaw. He chokes on his own blood, teeth skittering out of his mouth, and I don’t stop until his body stops fighting.

When I rise, I’m drenched in the proof of all three.

I look at the clock again.

Forty-two seconds.

I turn.

King Griffin is standing there, frozen, eyes darting between the bodies like his brain can’t

accept what his vision is feeding it. I walk toward him, and he stumbles back.

Behind me, Octavius is clutching his neck, gagging for breath.

I bend close and whisper into his ear, the way he tried to brand me. “Be a good boy.

Octavius.”

Then I grip the fork and shove it deeper until the tines push out the back of his neck.

I wipe my hands on his thighs and keep moving.

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Griffin backs away, shouting for guards.

No one comes.

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He yanks out a small black device-like a car key fob-and starts hammering the button

over and over. I don’t hurry. I just keep closing the distance.

“Do you honestly think,” I say, “that a mortal with a little lycan in him is going to beat

me? Or that my wolf wouldn’t notice you planted a bug in me to keep her asleep?”

I reach into my mouth, hook a finger under the edge of the thing buried beneath skin, and

pull it out.

In the dream, when Ryder hugged me, I felt it. Mystique had enough time to help me get

it loose.

Griffin’s face tightens. “How? I’ve kept you chained.”

“My wolf,” I say. “You’re not strong enough-or smart enough-to outplay her.”

He snarls, trying to drag his lycan side up.

Something keeps stopping him.

‘Well, thanks for the compliment, Bridget,’ Mystique purrs inside me, bright and alive.

again. ‘Ready to end him?’

It’s music. She’s been forced down since I arrived. I only had a moment with her in the

dream-long enough for her to lay out the plan. While I’ve been at this table, she has

been bending the guards on this floor to her will.

Griffin’s voice cracks with fury. “What did you do, you bitch!”

“I had the kitchen staff put a chip in your food,” I say. “You were too busy bragging about

owning me to notice you drugged yourself.”

The kitchen door swings open.

Priscilla steps in-and stops dead.

Blood. Bodies. The wrecked table. Her eyes go huge, panic squeezing the color from her

face. She fumbles up a nail gun, hands shaking so hard it rattles.

Griffin sees her and smiles like he’s found a lever. “Priscilla. Bring it here. I own you. Do

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Chapter 93 Never underestimate a woman

what you’re told.” He extends his hand, summoning her.

She looks between us, trapped.

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“That’s it,” Griffin coos, watching her move. “Good girl.” Then he turns his gaze on me.

“You don’t control everyone. She belongs to me.”

Priscilla walks toward him, trembling.

“Priscilla…” I start.

“Shut up,” Griffin roars. “I will make you pay for this! I had everything arranged with these men-you ruined it! You will suffer for it!”

He charges her.

I step in front of him.

He swings to slap me, and I catch his arm. My fist drives into his stomach.

He grabs me and whips me across the room. My body smashes into the wall.

The pain is manageable-nothing compared to what Elder Evangeline and Beatrix have

put me through.

I spring up, rip off my stilettos, and throw them.

One spikes into his back. He drops to his knees, screaming.

The second heel I drive through his cheek, tearing his jaw open.

I get behind him, seize his head, and slam it into the marble.

Then I stand and start kicking him in the gut-again and again.

He catches my leg and yanks it out from under me. I hit the floor beside him, and we roll.

He uses his weight to trap me.

His hands clamp around my throat. His face is slick with blood, and it drips onto my skin

as he squeezes. Rage fills his eyes. The room starts to gray at the edges.

“I should kill you,” he hisses, “but I want you breathing while you suffer as my whore-

like your mother was supposed to be.”

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That sentence lights something in me.

Mystique surges, feeding me fight.

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My claw extends.

I rake his side open.

He jerks back with a sound that isn’t human, and his intestines spill out.

“Gun!” I shout.

Priscilla tosses the nail gun.

I grab his intestines and fire, pinning them to the floor.

His scream fills the room-raw, ripping.

I drop into a squat beside him, balanced on all fours. He’s bleeding out, tethered to the

marble by his own organs.

“Crawl,” I say, voice low.

He shakes his head, frantic. I extend my claws and slice his calf.

“Ah-stop! Please!” he chokes. “I can’t!”

I cut him again. He screams and drags himself forward a single step.

Then another.

Each movement stretches him open.

“Keep going,” I whisper, close enough that he has to hear it. Blood pours as I pace beside

him. With every inch, more spills onto the floor behind him, a widening trail.

“This is for my mother.”

I slash into his back deep enough to make it gush.

“And this is for my father.”

I carve his other calf. He collapses, shaking, but he’s still alive.

“So you’ll crawl,” I tell him. “Keep. Going.”

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I stab his thigh as he drags himself again.

When his insides reach their limit, he whimpers like a broken animal.

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I fist my hand in his hair, lift his head until he’s eye level with me, and stare into him.

“Rot in hell,” I breathe.

Then I drive my claws into his eyes.

His final screams shred the air, and I watch until there’s nothing left to watch.

I retract my claws.

Priscilla rushes to me, eyes wild. “Bridget! The whole castle is crawling with soldiers!

How are we supposed to get out?”

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The Omni-Wolfs Choice

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