Chapter 3 THE BROKEN BARK
Jordan's pov
"Faster! You punch like a soft, spineless girl!"
My father’s harsh voice cut through the damp morning air, followed immediately by the sting of a wooden cane slapping across my shoulder blades. I stumbled forward, my boots slipping in the mud, but I didn't dare make a sound. I couldn't. Complaining only meant ten more cane strikes and an extra hour of work.
"I’m moving as fast as I can, Father," I grunted, resetting my stance in front of the massive, thick oak tree standing deep in the woods behind our cottage.
"Don't talk back to me, Jordan!" Silas barked, his cold eyes digging into me. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, his face twisted in that familiar, bitter sneer he always had whenever he looked at me. "Look at this tree. Look at it! Look at you. Twenty years of my sweat and blood, and you still strike like a weakling."
"I'm an Omega, Father," the truth almost slipped out of my mouth, but I caught myself just in time. In his mind, I was his son. A son was all I was allowed to be. I swallowed the lump in my throat and rephrased it. "The wood is dense. The cold makes it hard."
"I don't give a damn about the cold!" Silas yelled, stepping up to me and shoving his finger into my chest—right over the painful leather straps binding my breasts tight against my ribs. "You split this trunk today, or you don't eat. You don't sleep. You don't step foot near that hockey rink tomorrow. Do you understand me, boy?"
"Yes, Father," I said softly, staring at the mud near his boots.
"I can't hear you! Answer me like a man!"
"Yes, Father!" I shouted, locking my jaw.
"Good. Now get back to work. I’m going inside to prepare the garden tools. If that tree isn't split by the time I come back out, I'll take the cane to your back until you can't stand." He turned around, his limp heavy as he walked back toward the small wooden house, leaving me alone in the freezing drizzle.
I took a deep, shuddering breath. The air burned my lungs. My knuckles were already raw, the skin split open and bleeding from the two hours I’d already spent hammering my bare fists into the rough bark. Every time my fist made contact, a sharp, shooting pain traveled straight up my arm, vibrating in my bones.
Because I was an Omega, my physical strength didn't replenish as fast as a Beta's or an Alpha's. My body was built for endurance and agility, not brute, bone-crushing force. But my father didn't care about all of that. He's just hell bent on making me a man for no reason. "One," I muttered to myself, pulling my arm back and driving my knuckles into the solid wood.
Crack. A tiny fleck of bark fell off. Blood smeared across the dark trunk.
"Two," I grunted, throwing another right hook.
Pain exploded through my wrist. Tears prickled at the back of my eyes, but I blinked them away furiously. Weakness was a sin in this house. If my father caught me crying, he’d make me hit the tree with my bare shins next.
"Three... four... five..."
I lost count after a while. The drizzle turned into a heavy, pouring rain, soaking through my thin cotton shirt and making my heavy trousers stick to my legs. The leather binder around my chest shrank as it got wet, squeezing my ribs so tightly that every breath felt like inhaling broken glass. Sweat mixed with rainwater, stinging the fresh cuts on my hands.
My father hadn't even remembered what day it was. Not a single word. No 'happy birthday,' no extra piece of bread, nothing. Twenty-one years ago today, I was brought into this world, and my father's first emotion upon seeing me was utter disappointment because I wasn't born a dominant male.
Just keep punching, I told myself, driving my bloody left fist into the exact same spot on the trunk. Just hit it until it breaks. Then you can go to the arena. Then you can get away from him.
"Aaaggh!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, putting every ounce of my hidden rage, my pain, and my exhausted wolf's energy into one desperate, heavy blow.
CREAK.
A deep, jagged line split straight down the center of the oak tree. The heavy trunk groaned under its own weight, splitting wide open before falling sideways into the muddy earth with a loud, echoing thud that shook the ground under my boots.
I stood there, panting heavily, my hands dripping a mixture of rainwater and crimson blood onto the fallen wood. My shoulders shook from sheer exhaustion. I had done it.
"Father!" I called out toward the house, my voice hoarse. "It's done!"
There was no answer from inside. He had probably fallen asleep or forgotten I was even out here. I wiped the wet hair out of my eyes, shivering violently in the cold wind. I couldn't stay here like this. I needed to wash the blood off my hands and get my gear ready for late-night practice.
I turned around to head toward the side tap to wash my knuckles when the wind suddenly shifted.
The heavy smell of wet earth and rain was instantly cut by something else. A scent carried by the breeze, sharp and overwhelming. It hit the back of my throat like a hot spark touching dry wood.
It was a scent that felt wildly unfamiliar, yet somehow... deeply, terrifyingly known to my very soul.
It smelled like fresh mountain snow, burnt cedar, and raw, dangerous lightning.
Inside my chest, something snapped.
My Omega wolf, who had been quiet, bruised, and sleeping in the dark corners of my mind for years, suddenly woke up with a deafening howl. She sat up, clawing at my ribs, her posture instantly alert and frantic.
MATE! my wolf screamed inside my head, her voice so loud it made my knees buckle. MATE! FIND MATE! HE IS HERE!
"What... what is this?" I gasped, clutching my chest with my bloody hands.
My heart started hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The spark ran through my blood vessels like liquid fire, making my skin itch, making my cold, shivering body suddenly burn with a strange, consuming heat.
MATE! my wolf roared again, pushing against my control, forcing my feet to move forward before my brain could even process what was happening.
"Wait... stop!" I stumbled over a tree root, but my feet kept moving.
I didn't walk; I ran. I sprinted through the muddy woods, completely ignoring the pain in my raw hands and the tightness in my chest. The scent was getting stronger with every step I took, pulling me like an invisible chain wrapped around my neck. It was dragging me out of the forest, across the muddy border path, and straight toward the main pack territory.
Who is it? my mind panicked as I ran through the pouring rain. Who is in the pack house right now?
The scent grew thicker, heavier, so rich that I could practically taste the burnt cedar on my tongue. It felt rich, dominant, and terrifyingly powerful.
I burst out of the tree line and ran up the stone steps of the grand pack house. The heavy wooden front doors were unlocked. I pushed them open and stepped inside, my wet boots tracking mud and water onto the polished hardwood floor.
The main hall was dark and empty. It was late, past the dinner hour, and most of the pack members were either in their private quarters or out on patrol. But the scent wasn't in the main hall. It was coming from upstairs.
Up! Go up! my wolf whimpered, desperate and frantic.
I took the stairs two at a time, my heart beating so fast I thought my chest binder would snap. I reached the third floor
My feet slowed down as I walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway. The scent was suffocating now. It was practically vibrating off the walls. I followed the trail of warm cedar and lightning until I stopped dead in my tracks right in front of a heavy oak door at the very end of the hall.
The scent was coming from right behind this door, wrapping around my ankles like warm smoke.
My hands trembled as I stared at the brass nameplate mounted on the center of the door.
CALEB RIDGE - ALPHA HEIR.
My mouth flew open in absolute, unadulterated shock.
"No..." I whispered, my voice barely a squeak. "No, no, no... this is a mistake."
My wolf didn't care. She purred loudly inside my mind, pressing against the door mentally, begging to go inside and throw herself into the arms of the person resting on the other side.
Caleb is my mate?!
