The Shadow Wolf's Second Life: They Bullied The Wrong Omega

​I walked over to the small wall mirror hanging beside the closet and finally looked.

​Dark hair clung to my forehead, matted with the dried. I could even see the crusty remains of tomato paste. The pale skin underneath was unblemished, free of the deep, jagged scars that had carved up my face in my previous life.

And these eyes—Brianna’s eyes—were wide, soft, and unaccustomed to bloodshed.

​I raised a hand, tracing the smooth line of my jaw.

​Weak.

​This body had no muscle memory for a blade. It had no speed, no raw power, and an internal warmth that threatened to soften the edge I needed to survive. Worst of all, it had no wolf.

​One week.

​I lowered my hand and turned toward the bathroom, my eyes narrowing in the dim light of the bedroom.

I had seven days before I walked back into that school. Seven days to purge the softness, force this frail body to adapt, and figure out how to build a weapon out of someone who was born to be prey.

Just my cup of tea.