The Cursed Alpha's Omega

Chapter 5

Elle’s POV



Pain. That was the first thing I felt. A heavy, sharp pounding in my head, like someone had hit me with a rock. I groaned softly and blinked my eyes open, even though my eyelids felt too heavy to lift.

Everything was blurry at first.

The ceiling above me wasn’t familiar. It was made of smooth wood with black beams across it, like something from an old cabin. I turned my head slowly, wincing at the ache in my neck. My body was sore, and I felt like I had been hit by a truck.

Where was I?

I sat up slowly. My head spun, but I managed to stay upright. I was on a large bed, with thick, soft blankets tucked around me. The sheets smelled faintly like pine trees and something musky, almost like a man’s cologne. The room was warm, with low light coming from a fireplace in the corner. The walls were stone and wood, and the windows were covered with thick dark curtains.

I had never seen this place before.

Panic rushed into my chest.

I wasn’t home. I wasn’t in the Red Woods Pack house. I wasn’t in the dungeons either.

Then the memories came flooding in like a tidal wave crashing into me.

The cold forest. The ropes around my wrists. The pack members glaring at me with hate. John’s face as he sentenced me to death. The guards who dragged me to the border. The fear.

And then… him.

That man. The one with the white hair and blood all over his face. His eyes were dark, intense, and filled with something I couldn’t name. He killed the guards like they were nothing. His hands were soaked in blood. His clothes stained red. He looked like a demon straight out of a horror story.

My heart thumped in my chest just remembering it. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked around the room again. There was a chair, a small table with a glass of water, and a thick door made of old wood.

Suddenly, that door creaked open.

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat.

Footsteps echoed into the room, slow and steady.

And then he appeared.

The man from the forest.

I stared at him, not sure if I should feel relieved or terrified. Maybe both.

He looked different now. There was no blood on him. His white hair, which had looked wild and sticky with blood before, now fell neatly around his shoulders, smooth and shining like fresh snow. It looked soft, but I wasn’t stupid enough to want to touch it. His face was clean, sharp, and serious.

He was wearing a plain black t-shirt that stretched tight across his chest and arms, and black jeans that fit snug around his tall frame. But what caught my eyes the most were the tattoos.

His arms—both of them—were covered from his shoulders to his wrists with tattoos. Not the pretty kind. These were messy, like someone had written words, phrases, symbols, and even names all over his skin in black ink. Some were in languages I couldn’t read. Others looked like marks from some kind of spellbook.

I couldn’t look away.

This man… he wasn’t just dangerous. He was cursed.

That’s when it hit me.

White hair. Tattooed arms. Tall, deadly, feared by everyone.

Ethan Quin.

My blood turned cold.

The cursed Alpha. The rogue whose name made even strong warriors nervous. The man no pack dared to cross. People said he came from a cursed bloodline. That anyone who got too close to him died. That he brought misfortune and death wherever he went.

They said his tattoos were the names of every person he’d killed.

And now he was here. With me. In this room.

I suddenly remembered something else—something heavy and dark that settled over my chest like a stone.

After my dad—Alpha George—died in that so-called “accident,” I’d heard whispers. I hadn’t wanted to believe them back then. I was too busy grieving. Too lost in my own heartbreak to think about rumors. But now, with him standing right in front of me, the memories rushed back like a tidal wave crashing into me.

People had said Ethan Quin might’ve been involved.

Some claimed he hated my father. Others said he wanted something from him and didn’t get it. There were even those who believed the accident wasn’t an accident at all—that my dad had been silenced. But no one ever had proof. There were no investigations. No one questioned anything out loud, because Ethan Quin was a name that made people drop their voices and glance over their shoulders.

He was feared.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

And now… he was standing in the same room as me.

I stared at him, my throat dry, my hands trembling slightly at my sides. My body felt like it wasn’t mine anymore, like it had gone cold all over.

Why had he saved me?

What did he want from me?

He stood there like he owned the place. Tall and broad-shouldered, with that white hair that brushed past his shoulders. His tattoos were even more striking up close, winding down his arms in dark lines and strange symbols I couldn’t read. They looked like runes or maybe words in a language I didn’t understand. His black shirt clung to him, showing off a lean, muscular build. He looked calm, unreadable, but there was something about him that felt… coiled. Like a predator waiting to pounce.

His eyes met mine—dark, sharp, cold—and didn’t look away.

I felt seen, and not in a good way. It was like he was looking right into my soul and trying to figure out what pieces he could tear apart.

“You’re… Ethan Quin,” I whispered, my voice barely coming out. It was like saying the name out loud made everything real.

He smirked in that arrogant, self-satisfied way that made me instantly irritated. “At your service, little wolf.”

I frowned, my heart still pounding in my chest. “Don’t call me that,” I snapped, my voice louder this time.

His smirk grew, like he found my anger amusing.

I kicked the blanket off and forced myself to stand. My legs felt wobbly, but I kept my chin high. I refused to look weak in front of him, even though I felt like I was shaking on the inside. He was so much taller than me, and the way he looked at me—like he was analyzing me—made me feel even smaller.

He let his eyes travel over me again, and I saw the way his brows twitched like he was surprised by something. “Didn’t expect you to be this…” he said, then trailed off, his lips pressing together.

“This what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He shrugged, turning away slightly. “Forget it,” he said casually, like it didn’t matter. But it did matter. I hated how dismissive he was.

“Don’t do that,” I snapped. “Say what you were going to say.”

He glanced back at me, his expression still unreadable. “It’s not important,” he said, voice flat.

I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling under my skin. I was tired of being talked down to. Tired of being treated like I was nothing just because I was an omega. I had lost my father, my pack, my home—and now I was here, stuck in some unknown place with a man people said might’ve had a hand in killing him.

I didn’t care how dangerous he was.

I wanted answers.

“Why did you kill those soldiers?” I demanded. “Why did you save me? Why did you bring me here? Where even is here?”

All the questions tumbled out in one breath. My voice was shaking by the end, and I hated how desperate I sounded.

Ethan didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped closer.

My body went stiff. I didn’t move. I didn’t back away. I refused to.

He raised his hand slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers were calloused and warm, and the touch was so gentle it caught me off guard. I stared up at him, not breathing.

He didn’t pull away right away. His hand lingered, and then dropped to his side.

“I’ll only answer one of your questions,” he said calmly.

I blinked. “One?”

He nodded. “The rest will come later. Maybe.”

I stared at him. I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or cry or punch him. “Fine,” I muttered. “Then answer this—why did you save me?”

He tilted his head, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Because,” he said, voice low and serious, “you’re the key.”

I blinked again, heart skipping. “The key?” I echoed. “What are you talking about? What key?”

He held my gaze, not blinking. “The key to breaking my family’s curse.”