The Huntress Omega

INGRID. 

"A maid? In the castle?" 

Asval frowned, his confusion evident. His dark brows knitted together, and he leaned slightly forward as if the words needed clarification. 

"Please, don't make me repeat myself," I said, my voice carrying the edge of exasperation I didn't bother to hide. 

The heat of the midday sun bore down on us as we sat on a long counter inside a tavern, the bustling energy of villagers serving as the backdrop to what should have been a mundane conversation. 

"You've seen how dreary and boring that place is, haven't you? It could use some life. Maybe a touch of. . . color?" My tone was deliberately light, a casualness that hid the tension humming beneath my skin. 

"You're not making sense," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why make you think Rage would agree to that? Why would you even suggest it?" 

Because I need to get back into that castle. I couldn't stay still. Staying here in Ashenfall is a waste of time and resources. But I couldn't say that. Not yet. 

I sighed dramatically, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "Look, Asval, you've been around enough to know how people like Rage think. Power thrives in chaos, sure, but even the most ruthless of Alphas need order in their homes. I just thought. . ." I paused, letting the moment stretch just long enough to seem earnest. ". . .maybe I could help. You know, lighten the load." 

His eyebrows furrowed, suspicion clouding his eyes. He wasn't easily convinced but still I wasn't about to let him poke holes in my plan before it even started. 

Asval's gaze narrowed as he let out a chuckle. "You? Lighten the load? You're not exactly known for your domestic skills, Ingrid." 

A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Well, no. But I don't plan on scrubbing and polishing floors, do I?" I placed a hand on his shoulder, meeting his skeptical gaze with a steady one of my own. "Trust me on this. It's a win-win." 

His hesitation was there, his sharp instincts warring with his loyalty. Asval had been my shadow in Ashenfall for weeks now, and though his loyalty to Rage was unshakable, I'd managed to carve out a sliver of trust between us. He wasn't going to give it up easily, though.

His sigh was heavy, his resistance crumbling. "You're insane, you know that?" 

"Think about it. I'm good at what I do—cleaning, organizing, keeping things in order. And. . ." I let the corner of my mouth curl upward, just enough to suggest a hint of something more, "I'm an excellent company." 

His jaw tightened. "You're up to something." 

He wasn't wrong, but I didn't need him to know that. If I stayed in Ashenfall, I'd get nothing out of Rage. Vesarius Rage wasn't the kind of man to spill secrets over ale in a tavern. No, if I wanted something useful-something I could use to unravel and weaken him-I needed to be close. Very close. 

And the only way to get close to a wolf like him was to play a part. 

A maid? Hardly the role I was born to play, but I was nothing if not adaptable. 

"I just think the castle could use a little life," I said, crossing my arms as though the conversation bored me. "But if you'd rather stew here in silence while Rage sits in his boring tower, fine by me. I'll just find someone else who actually needs help."

I turned on my heel, making for the door. The trick to manipulating someone like Asval was knowing when to push and when to let go. Walk away too soon, and he'd see through me. Stay too long, and he'd dig deeper. 

"Wait." 

His voice stopped me, exactly as I'd hoped it would. A small smirk carved on my lips as I glanced over my shoulder. 

"You're serious about this?" he asked, his tone a shade softer. 

"Completely." I forced sincerity into my words, though inside, I was already calculating my next steps. 

"Fine," he said after a long pause. "But don't say I didn't warn you. You're entering a lion's den, staying in his place is like knocking into death's doorstep. Rage doesn't tolerate games." 

"I wouldn't dream of it," I said with a grin that I knew would irritate him.

I faced my back at him and left the tavern. Once I crossed that threshold, I'd set everything into motion. Every secret I'd learned, every weakness I'd uncovered, would come crashing down on them. They wouldn't see it coming. 

I wasn't just walking back into the castle—I was walking into the heart of the beast. And this time, I'd be the one holding the blade. 

༻♱༺

The castle loomed ahead like a beast carved from stone, its spires clawing at the ash-gray sky. The air was cold and heavy, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and iron. It was strange being here again, after all that had happened. After what I had seen. 

As I approached the castle gates, I couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence pressing down on me. This was no mere castle. This was a fortress, a throne, a den of wolves. My brows instantly furrowed when a face greeted me at the castle entrance. He must be someone Asval trusts.

"Ingrid Hearst, you're still alive? What is the infamous wolfless assassin doing here?" He barked, though his grip on his weapon was more lax than hostile.

"I'm the new maid," I replied, tilting my head just enough to let my hair fall into my eyes. 

"New maid, huh?" The man snorted, but he stepped inside. 

As I silently followed him through the gates, my boots echoed against the cold stone floor. The interior of the castle was just as I remembered—vast, imposing, and utterly devoid of warmth. Shadows clung to every corner, and the air smelled faintly of smoke and old blood. 

The man led me to a modest chamber. It was clear this was to be my space. I set down my bag and surveyed the room. It was small, but it would do. It's a lot better than the ones in Ashenfall.

"Catch!" 

I saw something fly toward me, and I instinctively reached out my arm, managing to grab it in time. It was clothing. 

"You're quick." The man named Vesper said with a smirk, his tone laced with amusement. "Put it on, and you can head straight to the Alpha's library." 

Now came the hard part. 

The clothes felt strange against my skin, not because of its fit, but because of what it represented. Disguise. Submission. Weakness. It was a role I had to play, though every fiber of my being fought against it.

The corset-like bodice was a snug fit, with rich brown tones. The cream blouse underneath was airy and light, puffed sleeves gave a soft, rustic charm, cinched just above my elbows. The layered skirt fell gracefully to my knees, its practicality and beauty perfectly balanced. 

As stray locks of my ginger hair escaped from the loose bun, brushing against my cheeks. The cold stone walls pressed in on me as I carried a tray of goblets into the grand hall. My feet stopped in front of a huge door, catching my breath before gently knocking, letting him know about my presence. 

However, when I entered, the library was vast and silent, filled with the scent of aged parchment and leather-bound tomes. I silently put the tray on the table and a glass of wine beside his desk. I took out a dusting wand and pretended to dust the bookshelves. 

Then, Rage entered, his presence like a storm cloud in an otherwise calm sky. 

I pretended not to notice him, but every fiber of my being was aware of his every move. He moved toward the desk, sat down, and began sifting through papers, yet his gaze flicked to me occasionally, as if I were the most fascinating puzzle in the room. 

"You. What are you doing here?" 

"I'm the new maid," I replied, dipping into a small curtsy. "I'm here to serve you, if you'll allow it. In exchange for sparing my life and offering me a home." 

His gaze lingered on me, and I felt the weight of it like a physical force. Vesarius Rage wasn't a man who simply looked at you. He dissected you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to hide. 

"I wasn't aware I needed a maid," He said, his voice dangerously smooth. 

My target was Rage himself. He was a hard man to approach, let alone manipulate. But the opportunity presented itself. Now that I saw an opening to drop some bomb, I won't waste a second to grab him by pleasure. 

For all his raw strength and power, he was still a man. And men have their weaknesses, their needs. If I played this right, I could use that to pull him exactly where I wanted him. 

I took a bold step, closer to his desk. My footsteps are deliberately soft but not silent. "Alpha Rage," I said, my voice low, taking a step closer. "I noticed you were alone most of the time. I thought you might appreciate some company." 

His lips quivered into something that might have been amusement. "You think you're the right company for me?" 

"I like to think so," I replied, letting a small smile play on my lips. 

It was a gamble, but one I was willing to take. I took another step closer, enough for my scent to faintly drift his way. A delicate blend-subtle, but impossible to ignore.

Rage's eyes flicked toward me, as sharp and calculating as ever, but he didn't move to dismiss me. 

"I didn't take you for a man who enjoyed solitude," I said, letting my tone carry just the faintest hint of warmth. 

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "What would you know about what I enjoy?" 

The corners of my lips lifted, a smile that was neither bold nor shy but somewhere in between. "Not much," I admitted, lowering my eyes briefly before meeting him again. "But I'm here to learn." 

The words hung between us, charged with a meaning I didn't need to spell out. Rage's expression didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes-curiosity, perhaps, or maybe amusement. It was enough to make my pulse quicken, though I kept my composure. 

"You're pretty bold for an omega," he said finally, his tone a careful balance of warning and intrigue. 

I tilted my head slightly, allowing a strand of hair to fall across my cheek. "Boldness isn't always a bad thing, is it?" 

He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he stood, the chair scraping softly against the stone floor. My chest tightened as he moved toward me, his steps slow and deliberate. Instinctively, I stepped back until the edge of the table pressed into my lower back. 

He loomed over me, his height and presence making the room feel smaller, heavier. His eyes-sharp and red like fresh-spilled blood-locked onto mine, piercing through me. He didn't stop until he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him. He leaned closer, resting his arms on the table, trapping me in between them. 

"You think you can play games with me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. I forced myself to hold his gaze, though every instinct screamed at me to look away. 

"No games, Alpha." I said, my voice steady. "Just. . . an offer." 

"An offer?" 

I nodded, stepping just close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "To serve you, in whatever way you need." 

For a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us was thick with tension, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. 

"You have no idea what you're offering. Be careful, Ingrid," he said, his voice a near-growl. "Be very careful." 

The sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine, though I couldn't tell if it was from fear or something else entirely. 

"Careful?" I asked, letting the question linger.

He didn't answer. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against my chin. The touch was brief, but it was enough to leave my skin burning. 

"I don't trust you," he said finally, his tone cold and sharp. "Are you here to clean or to play something you don't understand?" 

"You don't have to," I replied, my voice soft. "Trust isn't what I'm offering." 

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But then, to my surprise, he stepped back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What you're playing is a very risky game, Ingrid," he said, his voice laced with something I couldn't quite place. 

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to take risks," I replied. 

Rage studied me for a long moment. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with my heart racing and my mind spinning. 

It wasn't a victory, but it wasn't a loss either. 

I had made my move. The apple has been offered. Now, it was up to him to decide whether to bite it or not. His hidden desires would determine how the game would play out.