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

”There’s plenty more in the pot,” she added softly, leaning over to scoop another generous portion of tender meat straight into my bowl. ”You’ve been working so hard lately. You need your strength.”

I took a slow bite, letting the warm food settle in my stomach as the twins continued to debate how they would have spent forty thousand dollars if Lady Luck had smiled on them instead.

Jayden slammed a fist lightheartedly on the table. ”First thing I’d do? Buy a proper sword. No, wait—pay off the loan sharks, then buy the sword!”

”Idiot,” Jordan snickered, shoving his brother’s shoulder. ”Pay the debt, buy food for six months, and get Dad a decent pair of boots so his feet don’t freeze this winter.”

Bradford let out a quiet, rumbling laugh, shaking his head. ”You boys should learn to take care of yourselves first. I can manage just fine.”

”Yeah, right,” Jordan muttered, rolling his eyes as he took another massive bite of bread.

They knew very well how poorly he was treated as a janitor at my academy, and they knew a new pair of boots wouldn’t magically erase the condescending sneers of noble students or the endless physical labor. But they couldn’t help it. To the man who had dragged himself through hell just to keep a roof over their heads, they wanted to repay him with only the best.

And somehow, though the emotion felt entirely foreign to my assassin soul, I understood that feeling all too well.

I had asked myself earlier why I hadn’t used the entire forty thousand dollars strictly for my own cultivation. Why hadn’t I just left them to drown in their own financial mess? I could lie to myself and claim it was purely strategic—just to keep loan sharks from disrupting my meditation, just to ensure I didn’t get dragged down by their chaotic baggage.

But the truth was right here, hammering quietly against my ribs.

Brianna’s feelings. I could feel her fierce, desperate love for them as clearly as I could recall the agonizing trauma embedded in her memories. The instincts weren’t originally mine, but it was as if I had lived under this rotting roof all my life. It was as if I, too, would tear the world apart to keep this fragile family safe.

Gosh, these stupid, persistent feelings.

It was no wonder my chest had been burning with that uncomfortable, terrifyingly gentle warmth all evening.