The Omega Who Rose from the Ashes: The Alpha's Regret

Trishelle POV

The predawn darkness still clung to the city as our three-vehicle convoy rolled through empty streets. I rode in the second van, the third trailing behind us like a shadow. Most people were still asleep in their beds, dreaming ordinary dreams, but not me. Not us. My kind didn’t get the luxury of ordinary anymore.

The warriors’ low conversation filled the space - talk of perimeter sweeps and potential threats - but I barely heard them. My mind was elsewhere, with James. Where was he? Was he hurt? Was he alone? The questions circled endlessly, each one sharper than the last, until my chest ached with the weight of them.

I’d sent a quick text to Bradley before we left, knowing he’d have Sam’s head for bringing me along. But I couldn’t stay at the hotel, pacing myself into the ground while James might be in danger. After all, he was my mate. Even if I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant anymore, some invisible tether kept pulling me toward him, insistent and impossible to ignore.

The van slowed, crawling for half a block before stopping. Through the dark tinted glass, I could see little except the vague outlines of buildings in the dim morning light, their edges softened by fog and the last stubborn shadows of night.

Sam spoke into his earpiece, his expression grim. "We’ve got confirmation. Target’s in the building up ahead." He turned to me, his eyes serious, the kind of seriousness that made my stomach twist. "Mix of pack warriors and trackers out there."

He reached under the seat and pulled out a bulletproof vest. "Put this on." As he helped me strap it over my swollen belly, his movements careful, almost reverent, he pressed a finger to his lips. "Silent from here on out."

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. I wouldn’t jeopardize this mission or my pup, not for anything, not even for the fear clawing at my insides.

Sam motioned for me to wait as he sent the men to scout the building. I watched through the window as they disappeared into the shadows like ghosts, swallowed whole by the darkness between the streetlights. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before a voice crackled through Sam’s earpiece - clear, urgent, final.

He hesitated at the van door, clearly debating whether to leave me here. I met his gaze squarely, letting him see my determination, refusing to be the fragile thing everyone assumed I was. He must have remembered Bradley’s temper, because he finally crooked his finger at me. "Let’s go."

I awkwardly maneuvered my pregnant body out of the van, one of the warriors offering a hand to steady me. The moment my feet hit the pavement, the smell hit me - garbage, stale beer, and something coppery that made my stomach lurch. I pressed a hand to my mouth, willing myself not to be sick.

Sam stepped closer, and his familiar pack scent grounded me enough to swallow the bile rising in my throat. I gave his arm a grateful pat and waved him forward, grateful for his steady presence even as my nerves screamed at me to run toward the building, toward James.

We approached a building that looked slightly less decrepit than the others, three doors down from where James supposedly was. The others fanned out - some heading to the front entrance, others circling around back, their movements so synchronized they might have rehearsed this a hundred times before.

I tilted my head back. Eight stories. I tugged on Sam’s black sweater. "Which floor?" I whispered.

"Third."

I could manage that. A sharp pain shot through my abdomen as I imagined Dr. Lorenzo’s disappointed face. He’s going to chew my ass out if I get so much as a bump on this bump. I pressed a hand to my belly, murmuring a silent apology to the pup within for whatever recklessness lay ahead.

Sam signaled, and the men moved with practiced efficiency. We passed only a few people - an old woman walking a tiny dog who barely glanced our way. I frowned. What kind of neighborhood was this where a group of armed men in black didn’t warrant a second look? The thought unsettled me more than I cared to admit, a quiet reminder of how far removed this world was from anything I’d known before.

Inside, the air grew thicker with the smell of mildew and despair, each breath heavier than the last. We climbed the stairs, the warriors keeping their weapons drawn but concealed, their footsteps eerily silent despite their size. A small boy, maybe six years old, opened his apartment door and froze when he saw one of our men. My heart clenched at the fear in his wide eyes. The warrior simply pressed a finger to his lips, and the boy nodded, gently closing his door without a sound, as though he’d learned long ago how to disappear.

Soon we were outside the target apartment. Men positioned themselves on both sides of the door. One knocked while I peeked around Sam’s shoulder, my pulse thundering in my ears. His arm formed a protective barrier in front of me, solid and unyielding.

Then I felt it - a whisper in my mind, faint but unmistakable. James. I pushed Sam’s arm down, drawn forward by an invisible thread that tightened with every second, pulling me past caution, past fear.

The door opened slightly, and I watched as one of our warriors shoved someone inside before entering, two more following behind, their movements swift and deliberate.

A soft cry of surprise, then his scent washed over me - wild pine and something uniquely James, achingly familiar even after everything. I rushed to the doorway just in time to see him crouched over a woman’s body, a low growl rumbling in his chest, primal and raw.

Memories flooded my vision - James with another, his hands on her skin, his mouth claiming hers. Or were those tears blurring my sight? I couldn’t tell anymore where imagination ended and reality began.

I spun around and fled, berating myself for coming, for worrying, for caring. My feet pounded down the stairs, but I could hear someone behind me, gaining on me, their footsteps matching the frantic rhythm of my heart.

"Trishelle!" James’s voice called out, edged with panic.

I ignored him, ignored the vibration in my pocket from Bradley’s phone. I just needed to get away from there, away from him and whatever betrayal I’d just witnessed, away from the ache blooming in my chest like something breaking.

James caught up to me just as I burst through the wide doors into the pale morning light. He grabbed my hand and spun me around. Before I could scream or cry or even breathe, he pulled me against him, his arms wrapping around me like steel bands, refusing to let go.

He was relieved - I could feel it in the tension of his muscles, in the way his heart hammered against my cheek. He was furious too, that I’d put myself and our pup in danger, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. But beneath it all, there was something else - joy, fierce and unguarded, that I’d come for him.

He pulled back just enough to crush his lips to mine.

I fought him at first, my hands pushing against his chest, anger and hurt warring with the relief flooding my body. But then his taste filled my senses - pine and mint and home - and something inside me softened despite myself. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair as I deepened the kiss, needing more, needing all of him, needing proof that he was really here.

He pulled back a fraction, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "I missed you too," he whispered before claiming my mouth again, his voice rough with an emotion I couldn’t quite name.

I moaned against his lips, and I felt his response - hard and immediate - pressed against my belly. James pulled me closer, then grunted as something kicked between us. Our pup. He smiled against my mouth, easing away slightly while keeping me wrapped in his arms, his expression softening into something tender.

He brushed a stray tear from my cheek, his thumb lingering there a moment longer than necessary. "I will never want anyone else," he whispered, the words a vow, heavy with meaning. I leaned into his chest, breathing him in, letting his scent wash away the images that had haunted me moments before, though a small, stubborn part of me still ached with unanswered questions.

Sam cleared his throat nearby. "If you’re ready, we can head back."

James nodded, taking my hand and following Sam to the middle car. He helped me inside, then turned to look up at the apartment window. A silhouette appeared, and James waved, mouthing something I couldn’t quite make out. The figure nodded back, and he climbed in beside me, a strange sadness in his eyes as he glanced back at the building one last time, as though leaving behind something he couldn’t quite explain.

As we pulled away from the curb, I finally found my voice. "Who was she, James?"

He turned to face me, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the car. "No one important," he said, though the shadow that crossed his face told a different story entirely.

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