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

”I don’t care about ’other Omegas,’” I replied coldly, stabbing a roasted potato with my fork. ”I’m not your babysitter, your soundproof wall, or your personal noise-canceling earplugs. I have my own things to take care of.”

”Like what? Bleeding your hands raw on a punching bag because you don’t know how to wrap your wrists?” he countered, leaning forward slightly. The faint trail of smoke from his cigarette curled between us. ”You don’t even have a wolf. In this world, a wolfless Omega with an attitude like yours gets crushed in a heartbeat. Being with me means no one touches you.”

”Nobody touches me anyway,” I snapped, setting my fork down against the porcelain. I locked my eyes straight into his. ”Because the next person who tries is going to end up with a severed trachea.”

Benjamin stared at me for three long seconds. Then, a low, quiet sound rumbled in his chest, expanding into a genuine, raspy laugh. He leaned back against the leather booth, covering his face with one hand as his shoulders shook.

”You really are unhinged,” he muttered through his fingers, his purple eyes gleaming under the dim amber lighting. ”A wolfless mutt talking about severing tracheas while covered in garlic butter.”

”Keep laughing, psycho. See if I don’t test my form on your throat next.”

”Fine, fine,” he lazily waved a hand, his laugh tapering off into a tired sigh. He reached out with his fork and casually stole a charred asparagus spear off my plate, popping it into his mouth. ”We’ll call it a temporary arrangement then.”

I immediately reached out and slapped his hand away with the flat of my butter knife. HARD.

”Touch my food again and you lose a finger,” I growled.

Benjamin winced, pulling his hand back and rubbing his reddened knuckles, looking more amused than hurt. ”Vicious. All I’m saying is, as long as I’m locked out of the vault, you’re going to let me hang around you when my head hurts. In exchange...” He reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out a sleek, obsidian-black card embossed with the silver crest of the Almond Pack, and tossed it onto the table right beside my plate.

”What’s this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the heavy metal card.

”An unrestricted High-Alpha pass,” Benjamin said, resting his head back against the booth and closing his eyes again. ”Gives you full access to the upper-floor medical pods, the high-density training grounds, and the private noble archives. Uncle’s pass gets you through the front door, but that card lets you walk anywhere in the territory without anyone asking questions.”

My eyes lingered on the black card.

Ah, they’ll ask questions alright.

”Where do you think an Omega with no connections can get an access pass like this?” I said, tapping the edge of the card against the table. ”I might as well walk into the academy with a sign on my forehead begging the Council to investigate me for theft.”

Benjamin didn’t even open his eyes. He just let out a slow, sleepy hum, leaning his head further into the plush leather cushion. ”Then tell them the truth. Tell them Benjamin Almond gave it to you.”

”Right. Because a wolfless Omega carrying an Alpha heir’s personal pass sounds so much more believable,” I scoffed as I rolled my eyes, though my fingers didn’t let go of the card.

”Then what do you want from me? Go with you whenever you want to use the pass?” he casually suggested, giving it no real thought at all.

But when I stayed completely silent, my eyes locked onto him with a slow, calculating gleam, he opened one sleepy eye to peek at me—and the realization of what he had just suggested hit him like a bucket of ice water.

”No way,” he said instantly.

I grinned. A cold, sharp, wicked little smile that made his eye twitch.

”Come on,” I purred, leaning forward with my chin resting on my palm. ”Aren’t you the one who said I needed to go around with you? It’s just a reverse situation when I need to use the card.”

”And compromise on my sleep? Never!” he declared, looking downright offended at the sheer audacity of my suggestion.

”Fine. Deal’s off,” I said casually, sliding the obsidian card right back across the table toward him.

Benjamin opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. He stared at the black card sitting between us, then up at my completely unbothered expression.

Right—he had zero bargaining chips. He needed me far more than I needed him.