The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Alaric

The taste of blood lingers in my mouth as I approach the packhouse. Three warriors dead, twelve injured. The mutant wolves are evolving – stronger, faster, more organized. But right now, I can’t focus on that threat. Pack politics wait for no one, not even a blood–soaked Lycan King.

“They’re waiting in the great hall,” Garrett reports, falling into step beside me. His own wounds are still healing – claw marks that should have closed hours ago. “Your father has already started damage control with the Northern Alliance.”

My beast snarls at the reminder of politics when all I want is to check on Sage. But I can smell the tension in the air, feel the weight of watching eyes. Every noble wolf in the territory has gathered for tonight’s dinner and Eris’s public apology.

“How is she?” I ask quietly.

=

“Still in your rooms. Iris hasn’t left her side.” Garrett hesitates. “But the nobles are talking. Lady Victoria has been particularly… vocal about pack stability.‘

11

Of course she has. Victoria comes from one of the oldest bloodlines, second only to Eris’s family in political influence. And unlike Eris’s subtle manipulations, Victoria has always preferred direct attacks.

the cal

The great hall falls silent as I enter. Blood still stains my formal jacket – no time to change after the battle. Let them see it. Let them remember their king fights his own battles.

“The northern border is secure,” I announce without preamble. “For now.”

Whispers ripple through the crowd. I catch fragments: “-three dead-” “. like these, protocol matters-”

need stronger alliances—” “-times

My father stands with the council, his face unreadable. But mother’s slight nod tells me she’s already working to smooth ruffled feathers among the noble families.

Eris makes her entrance precisely on cue. She’s traded her usual bold colors for a modest gray dress, her head bowed in perfectly calculated contrition.

“My King,” she says, her voice carrying just the right note of humility. “I come before you and the pack to apologize for my grievous error in judgment.”

The crowd leans forward, hungry for drama. Eris doesn’t disappoint.

“In my zealousness to protect pack interests, I made accusations against an innocent.” Her voice trembles slightly -practiced in front of a mirror, no doubt. “The omega Sage is not guilty of theft, and I deeply regret any harm my hasty actions may have caused.”

She pauses, letting the words sink in. Then, master stroke: “I can only pray my error hasn’t damaged the delicate alliances our pack depends on for survival. Especially in these dangerous times,”

Murmurs of approval ripple through the crowd. She’s managed to apologize while simultaneously reminding everyone of pack hierarchy, political necessity, and the growing threats we face.

“In light of my mistake,” she continues, “Immbly request permission to retire to my family’s estate. To reflect on my actions and their consequences. ”

1 grant permission with appropriate gravity, playing my part in this political theater. But my beast knows this is

Chapter 36

+25 BONUS

far from over.

The formal dinner that follows proves me right. Victoria claims the seat Eris usually occupies, her golden hair arranged to display her family’s ceremonial clips – symbols of an ancient bloodline.

“Such troubled times,” she says, pitched to carry. “The pack needs stability. Strong alliances. Pure bloodlines to maintain our power.‘

Other noble she–wolves echo the sentiment, each watching me carefully. Where Eris wielded subtle poison, they’ll use blunt force – tradition, duty, pack strength. A dozen new thorns to replace the one we’ve pruned. Across the hall, I catch glimpses of Iris with Sage, who looks uncomfortable but determined in a borrowed dress. Several nobles pointedly turn their backs when she passes. Others whisper behind raised hands.

“The pack is restless,” my father murmurs as he passes my chair. “They smell weakness.”

“They smell change,” my mother counters softly. “The question is, what will bloom from this upheaval?” Victoria chooses that moment to touch my arm, her family ring prominently displayed. “My King, in light of recent events, perhaps we should discuss renewing the alliance between our bloodlines? After all, in times of crisis, we must all do our duty to the pack.”

I hear what she doesn’t say: Unlike some strays we’ve taken in.

My beast rises, ready to challenge any threat to our mate. But that’s exactly what they want – any reaction that proves Sage affects my judgment.

Instead, I turn the conversation to border defenses, watching Victoria’s perfectly composed face crack slightly at the dismissal. But I can smell her satisfaction. She thinks she’s found her opening.

They all do.

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