The Last White Omega

THE LAST WHITE OMEGA

A Dark Erotic Werewolf Tale

by Mirela Dumbravă

Chapter 1 — Ashes and Snow

* * *

The Carpathians. Twenty-nine years ago.

That winter had smelled of blood before it smelled of snow.

The forest was silent — that heavy, unnatural silence animals sense before a storm. The firs stood frozen under the weight of ice, and the moon, full and pale, hung above the Carpathians like a cold eye, witness to everything that was about to happen.

Her pack was sleeping. They didn’t know it was the last night they ever would.

They came from three directions. Black wolves, massive, with eyes red as embers — a rival pack from the east, led by an Alpha hungry for territory. Their scent of iron and ash shattered the mountain’s clean air seconds before the first howls tore through the night.

Her mother died first. Her father, the Alpha of the Carpathians, fought until his neck snapped beneath the fangs of a wolf twice his size. Her brothers — four of them — fell one by one, bitten, torn apart, left to bleed in snow that reddened with every fading heartbeat.

She was five years old.

Her mother, in her last seconds of life, had pushed her into a deep hollow of a fir tree, covered her mouth with a bloodied palm, and whispered a single word in Romanian — the language of her blood:

— Hush.

And she hushed. For hours, with her green eyes wide open, watching the snow swallow her mother’s body, watching the moon sink slowly toward the treetops, watching the silence return over the mountain like a shroud.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t make a sound. She only trembled, her blue-black hair matted with someone else’s blood, the beauty mark above her lip quivering with every frozen breath.

She fainted sometime near dawn.

* * *

Eight thousand kilometers east. Three days later.

Yuna was descending the Korean mountain with a pouch of herbs at her waist and a bad dream in her bones. The Kim pack’s shaman had dreamed the same thing seven nights in a row — a girl white as the moon, buried in snow, with eyes green as forest emeralds, still breathing, but barely.

She was forty then, her black hair pulled back in a heavy braid, and she knew how to listen to what visions told her. Alpha Kim had laughed in her face when she asked permission to leave.

— A little girl? In the Carpathians? You’re insane, Yuna.

But he hadn’t stopped her. No one stopped Yuna when she wore that look.

She flew to Romania, climbed the mountain guided by something she couldn’t name — an invisible thread, a calling, a silent howl only she could hear. She found the hollow by the scent of old blood and fresh fear.

She pulled her out slowly, with her cold, gentle hands.

The child was nearly dead. Lips blue, skin translucent, pulse — a butterfly trapped beneath skin. But when Yuna placed her palm over the small heart, she felt something she had never felt in forty years of shamanism.

A light. White. Pure. Rare as snow in July.

— Oh, Moon. A White Omega. The last one.

Yuna whispered it in Korean, tears freezing on her cheeks.

She took her in her arms, wrapped her in her fur coat, and descended the mountain without looking back.

The child didn’t speak for three months. When she finally did, it was in Romanian, and she said a single word:

— Mirela.

Yuna smiled and repeated the name, slowly, learning it on her tongue.

— Mirela.

And so it stayed.

* * *

Korea. Mount Seoraksan. Present day. Three days before the Ceremony.

The mountain woke early.

The morning mist climbed slowly up the slopes covered in black pines, weaving among the curved rooftops of the Kim pack’s manor — a three-hundred-year-old structure hidden so deep in the heart of the forest that not even satellites knew of its existence. Dark wood, green tiles, long corridors opening onto gardens of river stones and ponds of red koi. A beautiful place. A dangerous one.

The bronze bells at the small temple in the inner courtyard rang three times — the waking signal for the entire pack. Over fifty werewolves lived here, plus human servants bound by ancient blood oaths, plus Beta guards who patrolled the perimeter day and night.

The tension had been thick in the air for days. Dense. Electric. Like the moment before a storm.

In three days, Alpha Kim would abdicate. Sick for over a year, his liver eaten by the ancient curse of his bloodline, the old Alpha had already announced his intention — the throne would be contested between his two sons. Eun and Linghe.

Brothers. By oath, by blood pact, though not by birth. Linghe had been adopted at nine, after Alpha Kim killed his father in a territorial fight and, per tradition, assumed responsibility for the child left behind. He had raised him alongside Eun as his own son. Taught them to fight, to hunt, to kill. Together.

Now they would fight each other. To the death, if necessary. That was what the pack’s traditions demanded.

And the one who won... had to choose his Luna.

* * *

Mirela had woken before the bells.

She sat on the veranda, wrapped in a thin wool shawl over a white silk robe, knees drawn to her chest, her green eyes lost in the mist dancing among the pines. Her blue-black hair fell loose down her back, reaching her waist, and the beauty mark above her lip moved slightly with each breath.

Twenty-nine years here. Twenty-nine years since Yuna had brought her to this foreign mountain, into this foreign pack, among people who smelled different, who spoke another language, who had black eyes instead of green and straight hair instead of wild curls.

She had never truly belonged. The only European. The only white one. The only Omega with skin like milk, full breasts and round hips of a Slavic woman, when all the other women in the pack were thin as reeds, delicate, with bird-like bones.

They always stared at her. The men — with hunger. The women — with hatred.

But this was her life. Her home. The only one she knew.

The sliding door behind her opened with a soft hiss. The familiar scent of dried herbs, incense, and old winter filled her nostrils before Yuna’s voice broke the silence.

— You didn’t sleep again. I told you to drink the tea I left you.

Yuna sat beside her, a steaming cup in her hands. She was sixty-nine now, her hair white as snow, her face carved with deep wrinkles, but her eyes still black and sharp as a young girl’s.

— Are you dreaming about them again? Your brothers from the Carpathians?

Silence. The mist wove among the pines. A crow called somewhere far away.

— Three days, Mirela. Three days, and everything changes. I feel it in my bones.

She paused. Then, in a low voice:

— Stay away from both of them. You hear me? From Eun. From Linghe. Especially from Linghe. In days like these... people become dangerous when they know power is within reach.

She placed an old hand over Mirela’s cold one.

— Promise me.

Mirela squeezed Yuna’s hand, her green eyes softening.

— Yes, mama Yuna... I’ll stay away from them... I promise!

She paused, her gaze drifting toward the mist.

— I’m so sorry that Alpha Kim is stepping down. Now whichever prince becomes Alpha, it will be bad... Eun is impulsive and he’ll choose Lu as Luna, and we’ll all be treated terribly... Linghe is a psychopath and he’ll choose Hana, and that would mean the enslavement of our pack in a more elegant, venomous way...

Yuna studied her for a long moment, those black eyes seeing more than they let on. Her old fingers tightened over Mirela’s hand, dry and warm, smelling of sage and damp earth.

— I know. I know what you feel. But listen to me carefully...

She leaned toward her, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper:

— It doesn’t matter who wins. What matters is who survives after. And you, my child, have survived things these boys cannot even dream of.

She withdrew her hand and sipped her tea, gazing at the mist thinning slowly under the first pale rays of sun.

— As for Lu and Hana... Those women are not Lunas. They’re mirrors. They reflect what men want to see. And that isn’t power — it’s the oldest slavery in the world.

She fell silent for a moment, as if weighing her words.

— A White Omega is something else, Mirela. But you won’t understand that until the moment comes.

She raised her palm, cutting off any question before it formed.

— Not now. Go, eat something, help Suzy in the kitchen. And... don’t go near the training hall. You hear me? Today they’re agitated. I can feel their blood from here.

* * *

As if the universe wanted to underline exactly what Yuna had said, a short, animalistic howl echoed from the lower courtyard. It wasn’t pain. It was dominance. The kind of sound a werewolf made when it wanted to say: I am here, and you are beneath me.

Then — a laugh. Deep, hoarse, lazy. Eun’s laugh.

Mirela recognized it without wanting to. She knew it the way you know thunder — you don’t need to see it for the hair on the back of your neck to rise.

* * *

Further on, in the training courtyard, the morning had already begun with blood.

Do-hwan was in the ring — a circle of packed sand surrounded by scorched wooden posts. Sweat covered his bare chest, the muscles of his broad shoulders contracting rhythmically as he blocked the strikes of a young Beta desperately trying to take him down. The pack’s boxer. The Beta warrior who didn’t talk much but hit like a typhoon.

It was over fast. A dodge, a short hook to the liver, and the young Beta fell into the sand, coughing.

Do-hwan didn’t celebrate. He just breathed deep, shook his bandaged fists, and retreated to the edge of the ring.

— Boring.

The voice came from the right. Eun sat on the wooden railing, his back against a post, a lit cigarette between his fingers. Shirtless. Black training pants hung low on his hips, revealing the sculpted abdomen and the deep V-line of muscle descending beneath the fabric. His black hair fell disheveled over his forehead, and his eyes — dark, cynical, always half-closed as if nothing in the world was interesting enough — wandered lazily over the courtyard full of training Betas.

Lu stood beside him. Naturally. Glued to his arm like a cat to its master, her thin fingers playing along his forearm, her red lips inches from his ear.

— Why don’t you step into the ring?

Lu purred, in that honeyed voice she saved only for him.

Eun drew on his cigarette, exhaled slowly, then turned his head toward her. His smile was slow. Dangerous.

— Why would I train with dogs when in three days I’m fighting a wolf?

* * *

On the opposite side of the courtyard, in the shadow of the temple’s curved roof, Linghe stood motionless.

Alone. As he always stood.

Tall, straight, arms crossed over a chest covered by a simple black hanbok, his long hair pulled back in a tight knot. His face was a sculpture — high cheekbones, sharp jaw, black eyes that never blinked often enough. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak to anyone. He only watched.

Hana appeared beside him like a shadow, silent, holding a cup of tea she extended without a word.

Linghe didn’t look at her. Didn’t take the cup. But he didn’t tell her to leave either.

His eyes were fixed on the railing where Eun sat. Or perhaps on Lu. Or perhaps on something entirely invisible to everyone else.

Hard to tell what Linghe was thinking. It always had been.

* * *

The kitchen was warm and smelled of fresh rice and ginger. Suzy stood at the wooden counter, chopping vegetables, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, an oversized apron hanging off her thin shoulders.

Mirela stepped inside, leaning against the doorframe.

— Suzy... do you need my help?

Suzy looked up, a warm smile breaking across her face.

— Mirela! Yes, come, come — I was just about to ask for help. Look at how much rice we need to prepare...

She nodded toward a huge sack propped against the wall.

— Fifty hungry mouths, and that’s just for breakfast. Since the ceremony was announced, everyone eats double. It’s like even their hunger is nervous.

She laughed briefly, but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as though something heavier than the morning pressed on her.

— Mirela... did you hear what happened last night?

She leaned closer, the knife forgotten on the counter.

— Do-hwan challenged one of the Betas at the training hall. At night. In the dark. Beat him until his brow split open. Nobody’s saying anything, but... he’s restless. They’re all restless. Like they can feel the fight coming and can’t hold themselves back.

She bit her lip, then added more quietly:

— And Lu... Lu’s been at Eun’s door day and night. Sleeping outside his room like a guard dog. And Hana... Hana’s stopped talking entirely. She just stands next to Linghe like a shadow and says nothing. And when Hana goes silent, Mirela... it’s worse than when she speaks.

She looked at Mirela with those wide, warm eyes full of worry.

— How are you? Did you sleep? You have dark circles again...

Mirela’s gaze dropped. Her voice came out quiet, fragile.

— I had nightmares all night... I dreamed about my family... the dream felt like... a warning that something bad is coming...

Suzy set the knife down completely. She turned toward Mirela with her full attention, wiping her palms on her apron.

— Again? Mirela, every time you dream about your family... something happens. Always. Remember two years ago? You dreamed about your mother three nights before the southern pack’s attack.

She moved closer, placing a small, warm hand on Mirela’s arm.

— Did you tell Yuna? You need to. Yuna knows how to read dreams — you know that better than I do.

Mirela shook her head.

— I won’t tell Yuna... I don’t want to worry her... Ugh... if Eun wins... Lu will make us her slaves... we’ll be her servants... If Linghe wins... Hana will throw us out of the pack because Omegas are weak, and she’ll want a strong pack...

Suzy went pale. Those words, spoken aloud, carried a weight her thoughts never had.

— Don’t... don’t say that. Please. If they throw us out of the pack...

She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. They both knew what an Omega without a pack meant. A wolf without territory. Prey. Living meat for any wild pack that caught the scent.

— Mirela, I have nowhere to go. You at least have... the Carpathians. You have somewhere you came from. I’m from here. This is all I have.

She bit her lip until it went white.

Then — footsteps.

They both froze.

Lu.

She entered without knocking, without announcing herself, with a sharp smile on her red lips and her black hair slicked back in a low, elegant ponytail. She wore a simple grey silk dress that contoured her thin body, and she moved through the kitchen as if she already owned it.

Her eyes landed on Mirela. They always landed on Mirela.

— Ohhh. How sweet. Two little Omegas, chopping onions at this hour. Touching.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

— Suzy, darling, be careful with that rice. Last time you burned it, and Eun said the whole house stank. We wouldn’t want to upset the future Alpha, would we?

Suzy swallowed and turned back to the counter without a word, her hands trembling slightly on the knife.

Lu’s gaze slid back to Mirela. Slowly. Top to bottom. From the loose blue-black hair on her shoulders, over the full breasts beneath the silk robe, past the round hips, down to her bare feet on the wooden floor.

Her smile widened.

— Mirela... darling. You’re a bit... undressed, don’t you think? Walking around the house like this? Or maybe that’s your strategy. Parading around half-naked hoping one of the princes glances down long enough to notice you.

A short laugh. Cold. Crystalline.

— Adorable. But between us... you’re an Omega. A white, foreign Omega with no Korean blood, no family, no rank. You can have that body the men devour with their eyes all you want... but you’ll never be one of us.

She pulled back, smiling broadly.

— Good morning, girls!

And she left. Light as she’d come. Leaving behind that sweet-poison scent and a silence heavy as lead.

* * *

Mirela’s eyes flickered — green to phosphorescent green. Elegant white stiletto-claws slid from her fingertips. Two white streaks appeared in her hair, framing her face. A partial shift, raw and involuntary.

Her voice came out low, trembling with rage:

— I hate her... she is cruelty incarnate...

Suzy spun from the counter and saw her. The knife clattered to the wood.

— Mirela! No! Not now! Pull it back, please!

Her small hands gripped Mirela’s shoulders, squeezing, anchoring her.

— If anyone senses you... if Lu comes back and sees you like this... Mirela, nobody knows what you truly are. Nobody can find out. Not now. Not three days before the ceremony!

She was right. And Mirela knew it.

A White Omega who partially shifted from fury? White claws? Phosphorescent eyes? White streaks like moonlight?

If anyone saw this... the news would reach the brothers in less than an hour. And then Mirela would no longer be the invisible adopted Omega from the Carpathians.

She would be prey.

Or worse — a trophy.

Suzy took her face in her palms, forcing eye contact.

— Breathe. Look at me. Breathe with me.

The kitchen air smelled of steamed rice, cut onions, and fear. Suzy held her tight, fingers trembling on her cheeks, waiting for the phosphorescent green to fade, for the white claws to retract, for the white streaks to vanish back into the blue-black of her hair.

* * *

Mirela grabbed a piece of raw onion and bit into it, chewing fast, eyes watering instantly. She spoke through the tears, voice forcefully bright:

— Mmm... yeah Suzy... this stew is going to be delicious!

Suzy blinked, watching her devour the raw onion as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Tears flooded Suzy’s eyes too — not from emotion, but from the onion — and she began to cough.

— Mirela... you’re eating the onion... raw?! Are you... insane... who does that...

But she understood. Mirela saw it in her eyes. The onion covered every scent. Every trace of transformation. Every residual energy still floating in the air.

Clever.

* * *

But on the corridor, Eun’s footsteps had stopped again.

He didn’t turn back. He stood with his back to the kitchen, one hand on the wooden wall, the spent cigarette between his fingers. His right nostril flared a fraction.

Onion.

The smell of raw onion. Strong. Too strong. The kind of smell that covers something else.

The corner of his mouth lifted. It wasn’t a smile. It was a promise.

And he left.

* * *

The morning passed slowly, full of steam and labor. Mirela and Suzy prepared breakfast for the entire pack — rice, seaweed soup, fresh kimchi, grilled fish, eggs simmered in soy sauce. Plates lined the long table in the main hall, and the wolves entered in small groups, quiet or loud depending on rank.

Omegas served. That was tradition. Betas and warriors ate. Omegas brought, cleaned, disappeared.

Do-hwan entered among the last, towel still on his shoulder, hair wet, a fresh bruise on his jaw from the morning’s training. He sat at the corner table and ate in silence, but when Mirela passed with a bowl of soup, he looked up.

— You alright?

He muttered it without moving anything but his lips.

His eyes — warm, grey, direct — fixed on her for a second. It wasn’t curiosity. It was a scan. Do-hwan never asked out of politeness. Do-hwan sensed things.

But he didn’t press. He just watched her pass and turned his attention back to the soup.

* * *

Then Eun entered the hall.

And the air changed. Literally.

Conversations dropped. Backs straightened. Several young Betas lowered their gazes automatically — pack instinct, involuntary submission before a potential Alpha.

Eun crossed the hall with slow, deliberate steps, carrying a heavy energy, like a lion crossing a plain knowing everything around him was either food or scenery. He wore a simple black t-shirt that clung to his chest and shoulders, still in his training pants, hair disheveled, and that half-absent smile that said I couldn’t care less about anything here.

Lu materialized beside him instantly. Like a magnet. Pulled his chair, set his plate, poured his water. Eun didn’t thank her. Didn’t even look at her.

He sat, picked up his chopsticks, and began to eat.

Then — without lifting his head — he spoke. Loud. Loud enough for the entire hall to hear:

— Omega.

A single word. He didn’t say a name. Didn’t look in any direction. Just chewed, eyes on his plate.

— Soup.

Suzy froze beside Mirela, bowl in hand. Her eyes flew to Mirela with a clear message: not you, let me, stay away from him.

But Lu raised her gaze from beside Eun and smiled — that venomous, calculated smile — fixing directly on Mirela.

— Mirela, can’t you hear? The future Alpha wants soup. Or are your ears as slow as the rest of you?

* * *

Her hands trembled as she lifted the soup bowl. Her eyes flickered — normal green to phosphorescent green and back again. She rubbed her eyes quickly. Suzy touched her elbow — brief, desperate — but Mirela pulled away and walked toward Eun’s table.

Every step was an effort.

Not because the bowl was heavy. But because she felt the dangerous green pulsing beneath her eyelids, threatening to ignite with every heartbeat. She kept her eyes down. Fixed on the soup. On the steam rising gently. On anything other than him.

She reached his chair. Extended the bowl, trembling. Her voice came out quiet, controlled:

— Of course... my prince...

Her hands were visibly shaking.

Eun didn’t move immediately.

He let one second pass. Two. Three. The kind of silence he used as a weapon — letting you stand there, waiting, feeling how small you were before him.

Then he raised his gaze. Slowly.

His black eyes hit her like a slap. They weren’t looking at the bowl. They were looking at her. At the hands that trembled. At the white throat where her pulse was visible, beating beneath the skin. At the eyes she kept desperately cast down.

— You’re trembling.

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. His voice — low, deep, with a lazy coldness — had the texture of cigarette smoke.

He took the bowl from her hands. His fingers brushed hers intentionally. A fraction of a second. Skin on skin. Hot on cold.

Mirela felt the phosphorescent green explode behind her eyelids and shut them tight, masking everything in a long blink.

— Look at me when I’m speaking to you, Omega.

His voice had dropped a degree. Lu, beside him, had frozen with her smile cut short, staring at his fingers still touching Mirela’s.

Eun released her hands. Set the bowl down. Turned back to his food as if nothing had happened.

— You may leave.

But just before Mirela turned, he murmured — so quietly that only she could hear:

— You smell like onion. Why?

He didn’t wait for an answer. He put a bite of rice in his mouth and chewed slowly, eyes on his plate.

But the corner of his mouth lifted. Barely visible.

* * *

Lu exploded the second Mirela’s back was turned.

— What was that?! Why did you touch her hands?! Why are you speaking to her?! She’s an Omega, Eun! AN OMEGA!

Her nails dug into his arm. Eun continued eating. Calm. Unmoved.

— Lu. If you don’t take your hand off me in three seconds, I’ll break it.

Lu released him as if burned. Her mouth trembled with rage, but she didn’t say another word.

* * *

Across the hall, Do-hwan had watched everything over the rim of his soup bowl. His jaw clenched. He said nothing. But his eyes followed Mirela’s back until she disappeared through the door.

And from the darkest corner of the hall, from the table he shared with no one, Linghe looked up from his book.

One single moment. Black eyes, expressionless, fixed on the spot where Mirela had stood.

Then he returned to his book.

But the page didn’t turn.

* * *

The cold mountain air hit her like a slap.

Mirela leaned against the railing of the back veranda, the one where nobody came — her corner, her secret place, hidden behind a bush of wild camellias. She breathed deep. Once. Twice. Three times.

Her fingers were still trembling. The spot where Eun had touched her — those few millimeters of skin — burned like a brand of hot iron.

The morning mist had cleared, leaving behind a sky of cold, sharp blue, with the tips of the pines piercing it like black lances. Somewhere in the valley, a wolf howled briefly — one of the perimeter guards, announcing his shift.

Three days.

Three days and everything changes.

She looked at her palms — white, clean, no claws, no trace of transformation. Just thin skin, translucent, blue veins beneath. Omega hands. Hands that serve soup and chop onions.

But beneath them...

Beneath them was something no one in this pack understood. Something she didn’t fully understand herself. Something Yuna had been protecting with silence for twenty-nine years.

A crow passed overhead, descending toward the valley.

The air smelled of pine, wet stone, and an oncoming storm.

* * *

Mount Seoraksan was silent.

But it wasn’t quiet. It was patience.

The mountain was waiting.

* * *

— End of Chapter 1 —