Nine Nine Omegas, One Broken Luna
Liora · Completed · 8.3k Words
Introduction
My husband's mistress smirked, parading her boys through my private hall.
She was the one who looked the most like me—the best of the 99 breeding Omegas my husband supposedly "rejected" years ago.
"Dominic told me he's disgusted every time he touches your barren, ruined body," she sneered. "I'm the one giving him a real family."
My husband dug up our dead daughter’s urn and let his mistress pour dirty dog blood on it.
"Her dead spirit is cursing my fertility," the mistress whined.
The next day, he cornered me at the hospital, threatening to leak the video of my dungeon torture if I didn't kneel to his mistress.
The sound of my own agonizing screams and the clinking of those heavy chains echoed from the speaker.
"Get on your knees and apologize to my mate," Dominic snarled, shielding his pregnant mistress. "Or I release this video. Everyone will see what a broken, dirty whore you really are."
My vision faded to black, my hands instinctively shielding my slightly aching stomach.
When his frantic hands rush my lifeless body into the emergency room, he’ll find two things in my coat pocket:
A finalized divorce decree.
And a scheduled abortion form for the baby he never knew I was carrying.
Chapter 1
Five years ago, the elders offered my husband 99 prime Omegas because I was left barren from saving his life.
He rejected them all. "I only love Ophelia," he vowed.
I gave him my family's mafia empire for that lie.
Today, the doors of my penthouse blew open. A woman strutted in, trailing five little boys. She was one of those 99 Omegas. The one who looked exactly like me.
"Five years, five sons," she smirked, nursing the youngest on my sofa. "Dominic says my lucky babies bring the pack fortune."
When I sentenced his mistress to the underground auction, my "devoted" husband fired three bullets at my feet to save her.
He didn't know I had a positive pregnancy test in my pocket.
I smiled, dialing my doctor. "Cancel the prenatal care. Prep the OR for an abortion tomorrow."
Ninety-nine women.
They stood in a line across the floor of my penthouse. Every single one of them was a prime Omega. And every single one of them had my eyes, my hair, my jawline.
"Alpha," Elder Thorne’s voice echoed. "We all know the Luna’s womb was destroyed by silver poison. She can't give you a heir. But these Omegas are highly fertile. Any pups they bear will be registered directly under Luna Ophelia’s name."
My hands tightened under the table.
Dominic, my husband, stood up. He didn't even glance at the line of replacements. He just pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my neck.
"I only love Ophelia," his voice rang out, firm, dominant, and unquestionable. "Even if I die without an heir, I will never touch another woman. Get them out of my sight."
The elders gasped. The room erupted in hushed whispers.
"Is he out of his mind? A king without an heir is a dead man walking"
"He's throwing away the entire Rourke bloodline for a barren Luna..."
I leaned into his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. That single vow bought him my soul.
It bought him the next five years of my life. I weaponized the Morretti family’s immense wealth. I slaughtered rival Alphas in the dead of night. I paved Dominic’s path to the underworld throne with my own bloody hands and the skulls of his enemies.
I thought our empire was built on absolute loyalty.
Until the doors of my private hall blew open today.
"Dominic?" a sweet voice whined.
I looked up from my syndicate paperwork.
A young woman strutted into the room. Behind her trailed five little boys.
She just plopped onto my velvet sofa, yanked down the collar of her silk dress, and started nursing the youngest boy right in front of me.
"Who let you in?" I asked.
"I belong here." She smirked, her eyes completely feral with arrogance. "Five years. Five pureblood sons. Dominic says my lucky babies bring the Rourke family fortune."
I stared at her face. She was one of them. The ninety-nine Omegas from that night. The one who looked the most like me.
Scarlett Veyra.
"Dominic promised me the Luna seat," Scarlett sneered, adjusting the baby at her breast. "You’re just a barren waste of space. Do you really think you deserve the head of the table when you can't even pop out a single pup?"
I picked up my silver lighter. Click. The flame caught the tip of my mint cigarette. I took a slow drag.
"Lucky babies? Let's see how much luck you have on the open market." I flicked my fingers. Six of my Morretti enforcers peeled out of the shadows.
"Take her," I ordered. "To the underground bloodline auction."
"You can't! I'm carrying Dominic’s daughter! Ah—!"
They dragged Scarlett screaming by her hair. The five boys wailed as the heavy doors slammed shut.
My heels clicked against the metal grating of the VIP balcony just as the deafening slam of a wooden gavel echoed from the stage below.
"Fifty million!"
The underground auction house reeked of cigars and bourbon.
I sat in the VIP balcony, swirling a glass of neat whiskey.
Down on the brightly lit stage, Scarlett was chained to a steel pole. Her silk dress was torn, exposing her heavily pregnant belly and her heaving chest.
The crowd of underworld bosses and rich sleazebags were going feral.
"Prime breeding stock!" a scarred werewolf yelled from the front row, slamming his fist on his chair. "Look at the rack on her! I'm buying her just to breed. Keep her tied to the bed and let her pop out pups for my pack!"
"Fifty-five million!" another shouted. "If she really drops lucky pups, I want her!"
I laughed softly in the dark.
Lucky babies.
What an absolute joke. Dominic’s empire didn't expand because of some Omega’s "fortune." It expanded because I poured billions of Morretti dollars into his companies. It expanded because I personally ripped the throats out of the Russian and Italian bosses who stood in his way.
"Sixty million! Going once!" the auctioneer roared.
Bang!
The reinforced iron doors of the auction house were blown completely off their hinges.
Smoke and concrete dust poured in. Dominic strode through the wreckage, his coal-black wolf aura suffocating the entire room.
Silence instantly slammed down on the room.
Dominic’s frantic eyes scanned the stage. When they locked onto Scarlett—and the heavy chains digging into her pregnant belly—his calm, calculating mask completely shattered.
"Scarlett!" he roared, his voice cracking with a desperate agony I hadn't heard in five years.
"Dominic, save me!" Scarlett sobbed, straining against the heavy steel chains on the stage. "Save our baby!"
Dominic’s head snapped up. His bloodshot eyes locked onto me standing in the VIP balcony.
Under the shocked stares of every crime boss in the room, he sprinted up the metal stairs. He bypassed my Morretti guards and dropped heavily to one knee right at my feet.
"Ophelia, please," his voice trembled. "Let her go, okay? Or... just wait until she delivers the baby. You can deal with her after that."
Up in the balcony, blood dripped from my hand where I had crushed my whiskey glass.
I looked down at the man begging for his mistress.
I stared at Dominic Rourke like I was looking at a complete stranger.
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