Omega's Christmas Ball

Panic Attack

River froze, every muscle in her body locking in place as if the earth itself had stopped spinning. Damon was pressed against Isabelle, his hands gripping her waist possessively, his lips moving feverishly against hers. Isabelle, her sister, giggled softly, a sound that cut through River’s chest like a blade. The elegant red dress her sister wore now looked rumpled, and her hands clutched at Damon’s broad shoulders as if pulling him closer was the only thing that mattered.

River’s breath hitched painfully in her chest. No. No, this can’t be happening!

She didn’t want to look anymore, but her body betrayed her, keeping her rooted to the spot. As Damon’s hands slid lower, gripping Isabelle’s hips, and her sister arched into him, a flood of tears spilled from River’s eyes. Her vision blurred, but the scene before her remained painfully vivid.

But everything shattered when Damon turned Isabelle around and bent her, lifting her dress from behind. Releasing his member from the trousers, he plunged inside her, making her let a sharp scream.

“Shhtt! Keep it quiet!” Damon spoke, as he started to pump inside her fast and hard, as the sound of their skin slapping echoed around.

Along Damon’s groan and Isabelle’s sighs, it felt like knives slicing through her. Each one pierced her chest, stealing the air from her lungs. Her breath came quick and shallow, and her tight dress only made the sensation worse. She clutched at the fabric, clawing at her neckline as if loosening it would let her breath again, but it didn’t help. The suffocating betrayal pressed down on her like a crushing weight.

From the tears she could not see them anymore, but she could hear them, mating with each other.

River stumbled back a step, her feet crunching on the gravel path beneath her. She slapped a hand over her mouth, terrified they might hear her. But they were lost in their own world, oblivious to anything but each other.

Her mind raced. Why? Why is this happening? How could they do this to me?!

The pain of betrayal burned so fiercely inside her, it was hard to think. Isabelle was her sister. Damon… Damon was supposed to be hers, wasn’t he? Her thoughts spiraled as she tried to make sense of the scene before her. Her promised mate f*****g her sister wide in the open behind some bushes, while his chosen mate was at the same event.

And his hypocrisy when he commanded her practically not to attend the ball and defy the Alpha and Royal orders, irrespective of the consequences for her or her family. Her saving grace was Luna Cara, who opened her eyes and helped her attend the ball.

But everything was rotating around her.

Suddenly, her body gave way to trembling. She reached for a nearby tree to steady herself, but the rough bark bit into her palm. She didn’t care. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the storm tearing through her heart.

She turned and stumbled away, her legs weak beneath her, desperate to escape the cruel sight. But every step she took only seemed to echo the sounds she had overheard, the whispered words, the shared laughter, the moans of passion. She thought of herself as being courageous to confront him, but after what she just saw, she could barely stand.

Whom she was lying… she was a weak omega that was just a temporary plaything for a Delta. She would not be the first or the last in this situation, as this was the fate of some omega she-wolves who dared of dreaming for more.

By the time she found herself on the edge of the gardens, she could barely see through her tears. She clutched at her chest, where her heart felt like it had been shattered into jagged pieces. Each beat sent a fresh wave of pain through her, her wolf whimpering weakly in the back of her mind.

For the first time in her life, River truly felt as though she might break down completely. The betrayal wasn’t just Damon’s, and it wasn’t just Isabelle’s. It was the world’s, the universe’s. The Moon Goddess, fate, life itself, all of it had turned against her, when she had been so close to getting herself on the right track, or so she thought, but it seemed that all was a lie.

She fell to her knees, the cold ground pressing into her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. Silent sobs wracked her body as she buried her face in her hands, unable to stop the flood of emotions. The pain. The anger. The humiliation.

And through it all, one question burned in her mind: Why wasn’t I enough?

Minutes felt like hours as she knelt there, trembling and broken. She tried to pull herself together, to breathe deeply and quiet the storm raging inside her, but it was no use. Her wolf stirred weakly again, the connection between them strained and fragile.

Her breath came in shallow gasps, and her chest heaved, but no air seemed to reach her lungs. She clutched at her neck, the relentless tightness of her dress cutting into her ribs and making her feel like she was suffocating.

Realising that she was having a panic attack, panic surged through her veins, hot and unrelenting, as her vision blurred with fresh tears. Her head throbbed, and each desperate gasp felt like a knife slicing through her throat.

I have to get out of this dress, her mind screamed. She clawed at the delicate fabric, her trembling fingers fumbling at the buttons on the side under her right arm. Her nails caught on the smooth silk, but the buttons wouldn’t budge. Tears blurred her vision further, and her shaking hands made every attempt feel more hopeless than the last.

Her breaths turned into sharp wheezes as she convulsed, her body doubling over in an instinctive attempt to pull in air. She coughed violently, her chest heaving, but still, the oxygen wouldn’t come. She tried again to undo the buttons, tugging desperately, but her strength was fading.

Her surroundings began to melt into shadows and spinning lights. Just when she thought she couldn’t hold on any longer, a deep, commanding voice cut through the chaos.

“Are you okay?”

River’s head snapped up, her blurred gaze searching for the source of the voice. She swayed unsteadily, her legs trembling beneath her, and blinked rapidly to clear her tears, but all she could see was a tall, dark figure approaching her.

“I... I can’t breathe,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. The tightness in her chest worsened, and her panic climbed higher. “My dress...”

Her hands fumbled once more with the stubborn buttons as she gasped, her breath turning into soft, pitiful whimpers. Her body screamed for relief, but her vision darkened, her strength ebbing with every passing second.

The figure moved closer, and River tried to focus on his face, but her dizziness made it impossible. “Stay still,” the voice commanded, calm but firm.

She wanted to protest, to say she didn’t need help, but her body had other plans. Her knees buckled, and she began to collapse, but strong hands caught her before she hit the ground.

“Hold on,” the voice murmured.

River could barely register the words. Her trembling fingers fell away from the buttons as she let out one last shuddering gasp, her head lolling back against the stranger’s chest. Then, everything went black.

--

When River awoke, the first sensation she noticed was relief, an almost shocking absence of the suffocating pressure that had gripped her chest moments ago. She blinked groggily, her vision slowly coming into focus. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the room, and she realized she was lying on a plush chaise lounge in what appeared to be a study.

Her hand instinctively went to her chest, where she found that the top few buttons of her dress had been undone. The release of tension made it easier to breathe, but a surge of embarrassment flooded her as the memories of what had happened came rushing back.

“You’re awake.”

The deep voice startled her, and she sat up abruptly, her head spinning from the sudden movement. She turned toward the sound and saw him, the same imposing figure from the room earlier. The stranger who insulted her! He stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the moonlight, but now she could see his face more clearly. His mask was gone, revealing chiseled features and a sharp jawline. His dark eyes locked onto hers with a mix of intensity and concern.

“You fainted,” he said simply, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

River flushed deeply, her humiliation growing by the second. “I... I didn’t mean to…”

“You couldn’t breathe,” he interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact. “That dress is too tight for someone who clearly doesn’t know how to wear it.”

His bluntness stung, and River’s embarrassment quickly turned to indignation. “Excuse me?” she snapped, her voice still hoarse.

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not an insult. It’s an observation. That dress was suffocating you, and you were too stubborn to ask for help.”

River glared at him, her fists clenching the fabric of her skirt. “I didn’t need help from you.”

He stepped closer, his presence filling the room with an air of authority that was impossible to ignore. “If I hadn’t stepped in, you might have choked yourself unconscious, or worse. You should be thanking me.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words died on her lips. Deep down, she knew he was right. She had been seconds away from completely losing control, and his intervention had saved her.

“Fine,” she muttered, looking away. “Thank you.”

He studied her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. “You should go back to the ballroom.”

River hesitated, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. The thought of returning to the glittering chaos of the ballroom, where Damon, Isabelle, the chosen mate, were likely still entangled in their deceit, filled her with dread.

“I don’t think I can,” she admitted quietly.

River tensed as the stranger turned to face her fully, his dark eyes probing hers with a mix of curiosity and challenge. His commanding presence made her feel small, but she was past caring about propriety or appearances. The weight of everything, her heartbreak, her panic, and the suffocating pretense of the evening, had stripped her of any caution.

"I can't go back to the ballroom," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and despair.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, his posture casual but his tone sharp. "And why not? You’ll lose your chance of finding yourself a mate. Or perhaps even catch the eye of the Crown Prince."

River let out a bitter laugh, one that carried all the pain she'd bottled up inside. "A mate? The Crown Prince?" She shook her head, the corners of her lips curling into a sardonic smile. "I’m here because my Luna dragged me along, but let’s stop pretending. You can sense it, can’t you? I’m an omega, and not even a strong one."

The stranger's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, letting her continue.

"This ball is beautiful, yes, but it’s just a power play, smoke and mirrors" River said, gesturing vaguely toward the door leading to the grand festivities.

The man tilted his head slightly, intrigued. "Why do you say that?"

River folded her arms, her shoulders slumping slightly. She looked down at her feet, her voice quieter but no less determined. "Who are we trying to fool? Prince Thas would never take a lower-rank wolf as his mate. I’d bet his so-called ‘fated mate’ was decided long before this ball even began. Probably someone high-ranking, with enough wealth and alliances to make the union worthwhile."

The stranger regarded her with a piercing gaze, as though trying to read her mind. "Then why the ball?" he asked after a moment, his voice careful, almost testing.

River lifted her shoulder, her mouth curling into a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "No idea. Maybe it’s a show for the packs, a way to keep everyone entertained and distracted. Maybe it's to secure alliances behind closed doors. But I don’t think it has anything to do with helping Prince Thas find his fated mate."

Her tone was blunt, almost scornful, but beneath her words was a deep sadness, a weariness born of countless disappointments.

The stranger didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he studied her with a level of intensity that made her feel exposed, as though he were peeling back the layers of her defenses to uncover the raw truth beneath. For a fleeting moment, River wondered if she’d said too much, if she’d overstepped in speaking so cynically about the royal family. But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

"You’re a weird one," he finally said, his voice softer but no less commanding.

River frowned, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means you’re not afraid to speak the truth, even when it’s inconvenient or risky," he replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Most wolves wouldn’t dare question the purpose of the ball, let alone voice their doubts so openly."

River’s cheeks flushed, but she refused to back down. "I’ve learned that pretending things are perfect doesn’t make them so. And I’m not afraid to see things for what they are."

The stranger stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over her.

"Perhaps you should be afraid," he said quietly, his voice low and resonant. "Speaking out of turn can have consequences, especially when it comes to the crown."