Feral Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 1)

I stare at the unconscious woman cradled in Thane’s arms, her dark auburn hair spilling over his bicep, face pale and gaunt. A twinge of unease curls in my gut.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.

‘What the hell did you do to her, Plague?’ Thane’s eyes flash with accusation as he shifts her weight protectively.

I hold up my hands, the black leather of my gloves gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. ‘I didn’t do anything. Merely informed her I needed to perform a medical examination. She bolted like a frightened rabbit.’

Thane’s jaw tightens. ‘You probably came across as a creep.’

I bite back a retort, my gaze drifting to the omega’s still form. Even in unconsciousness, a furrow creases her brow, hinting at the wild spirit within. ‘She’s more feral than we anticipated,’ I mutter, stepping closer.

Up close, the signs are glaringly obvious. Hollow cheeks, dark smudges beneath her eyes, the sharp jut of collarbones visible above the neckline of her dress. Whatever excuse the Center gave for her injuries, a tussle between her and a guard she attacked wouldn’t explain what looks like months of neglect.

I reach out, fingers ghosting over the delicate skin of her inner wrist, feeling the weak, thready pulse fluttering beneath.

‘I suspect she’s severely malnourished, possibly on the brink of starvation. The stress of the situation likely pushed her body past its limits.’ I meet Thane’s gaze, my voice urgent. ‘We need to get her to the clinic. Now.’

Thane nods curtly, already moving toward the door. I follow close behind, mind racing. How long has she been in such pitiful condition? The Center is supposed to care for their wards, not let them waste away. Anger simmers in my veins at their negligence.

As we hurry through the stark corridors, I can’t help but steal glances at the omega in Thane’s arms. Beneath the bruises and exhaustion, there is a fierce beauty to her features.

High cheekbones, full lips, a stubborn set to her chin even in sleep.

What horrors has she endured to make her so distrustful, so quick to flee at the mere mention of an exam? The thought makes something unfamiliar clench in my chest. A flicker of protectiveness, perhaps. Or maybe just professional concern for a patient in dire need.

The last one is a laugh. I am a combat medic, yes, and I’ve always had an affinity for healing, but only because it’s the opposite equal to causing harm. A surgeon’s blade and a killer’s are merely two ends of the same spectrum.

This… this is something else.

I push through the clinic doors, holding them open as Thane carries the unconscious omega inside. The sterile scent of disinfectant and the hum of medical equipment greet us, a familiar backdrop to the urgency thrumming through my veins.

‘Over here,’ I direct, gesturing to an empty bed. Thane lays her down with a gentleness that belies his large frame, her dark hair fanning out across the crisp white pillow.

I take off my leather gloves and snap on a fresh pair of medical gloves, the latex conforming to my fingers like a second skin. Leaning over her still form, I begin my assessment, hands moving with practiced efficiency. Her pulse is too irregular, skin cool and clammy to the touch. I peel back an eyelid, noting the sluggish response of her pupils.

‘Severely malnourished,’ I confirm, more to myself than Thane. ‘And dehydrated. Her body’s shutting down.’

Thane hovers nearby, a silent sentinel. I feel the weight of his gaze on me as I work, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us.

I reach for an IV kit and tear open the packaging. Finding a vein proves more challenging than anticipated, her veins collapsed and uncooperative. I swear under my breath, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple as I finally manage to slide the needle home.

As the clear fluid begins to drip steadily into her veins, I step back, allowing myself a moment to really look at her. She’s pale, her skin holding an almost translucent quality, as if she’s been locked away from the sun for far too long. The bones of her face are sharp beneath the skin, a testament to the toll starvation has taken on her body.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Thane’s voice is low, tinged with an emotion I can’t quite place. Concern, perhaps. Or anger.

I meet his gaze, my own expression grim. ‘Neglect. Abuse. Take your pick.’ The words taste bitter on my tongue. ‘She’s been starved, Thane. For months, by the looks of it. And as you can tell from the bruises and marks, beaten.’

‘They said she attacked a guard,’ he says through his teeth.

‘Perhaps she did,’ I agree. I can certainly see that happening, even after my limited interactions with her. ‘And I’m willing to bet the bastard deserved it. Still doesn’t account for them starving her.’

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking beneath the tanned skin. ‘Could it be from the trip? The servants said she refused to eat the food they brought her last night.’

I shake my head, my fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. ‘No. This level of emaciation doesn’t happen overnight. This is the result of prolonged, systematic deprivation.’

Our eyes meet, a silent understanding passing between us. The Center. They are responsible for this, for sending us an omega on the brink of starvation, badly abused in what I’m quite willing to wager is every single regard. Anger surges through me, hot and visceral, and I see it mirrored in Thane’s eyes.

But now isn’t the time for retribution. I force my focus back to the task at hand, to the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin fabric of her dress. She needs medical attention, and that is what I will provide.

I move around the bed, hooking up the sticky pads attached to electrodes to monitor her heart. Her pulse is still weak and erratic. As I work, I notice her face isn’t the only thing that’s bruised. Her body is littered with bruises, marks and tiny scars in various states of fading. The worst one by far is the sizable burn scar on her left shoulder, just above her protruding collarbone. The sight of it momentarily knocks the breath out of my lungs, and Thane looks up, eyes narrowing as he steps closer to see what I’m looking at.

When I hear the familiar growl rumbling through his chest, I know he’s seen it. Neither of us remarks on it, though, even if we’re plagued by the same questions. Questions we won’t have an answer to until Ivy wakes up, assuming she’ll tell us the truth then. But I can venture a guess, and it fills me with enough rage that I have to push the thought aside in order to focus on my work.

As I place the electrodes, keeping her covered with the blanket where I can to preserve her privacy as I work, I can’t help but think the one mark I haven’t found on her body is her omega mark. Unless it’s hiding in a more intimate location. My eyes keep being drawn back to the scar on her shoulder, though, and I can’t help but wonder…

No. Better not dwell on that right now. I need to stay focused on her, not flying into a blind, murderous rage at whoever hurt her like this.

I move with precision, gathering the necessary supplies—a syringe, a vial of replenishing fluids, tubing. The motions are familiar, almost comforting in their routine, a momentary respite from the turmoil churning inside me.

As I fill the syringe, Thane’s voice cuts through the tense silence. ‘What are you going to do?’

I glance up, meeting his gaze over the still form of the omega. ‘I’m going to give her an injection of vitamins and nutrients, to start. It will help stabilize her in the short term.’ I tap the syringe, watching as a bead of liquid appears at the tip of the needle. ‘I’ve already got an IV running to combat the dehydration.’

Thane nods, but the furrow between his brows remains. ‘And then?’

I sigh, the sound heavy in the sterile air. ‘Then… I’m going to have to place her in a medically induced coma.’

His eyes widen, shock and disbelief warring across his features. ‘A coma? Is it really that bad?’

I set the syringe down, bracing my hands on the edge of the bed. ‘Her body is in a state of severe malnutrition, Thane. Her systems are shutting down. If we don’t give her body a chance to recover, to heal…’ I trail off, the implication hanging heavy between us.

‘Fuck,’ Thane breathes, dragging a hand over his face. ‘And the coma will help?’

‘It will give her body a chance to rest, to divert all its energy toward healing. I’ll place a feeding tube as well, to provide a controlled, steady stream of nutrients.’ I pick up the syringe again. ‘Even if she were willing to eat now, anything more than the most gradual introduction of food could send her into shock.’

Thane is silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the unconscious omega. I can practically see the gears turning in his head, the anger and horror at what has been done to her warring with the need to do whatever it takes to save her.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Finally, he looks up at me, his expression grim. ‘Do it. Whatever you have to do, Plague. Just… save her.’

I nod, a solemn acknowledgment of the trust he’s placing in me. ‘I will.’

With that, I turn back to my patient, my focus narrowing to the task at hand. The injection is administered, the thin tubing placed through her nose and down her throat with careful precision. I double-check her vitals, adjust the drip of the IV.

And all the while, a quiet rage simmers beneath my skin, a cold fury at the cruelty that has been inflicted upon this woman. This omega. She’s little more than skin and bones, her small body pushed to the very brink of collapse.

A guard having to restrain her after an attack might explain a few bruises, if he was particularly inept and careless, but not the roadmap of abuse drawn across her skin.

What monsters would do this? What twisted justification could they possibly have for starving an omega, for beating her until her skin is mottled with bruises?

The Center.

We’ve been lied to. Clearly.

And something has to be done about it, but now…

Now, she comes first.

For now, my focus is here, on the rise and fall of her chest, on the weak but stubborn beat of her heart.

She’s a fighter. That much was always clear.