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TRANSMIGRATED: I CAN HEAR THE PYSCHO ALPHA’S INNER VOICE

elochukwumoo
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
One minute, I was a medical doctor rushing to work. The next, I woke up as a lowly omega inside the pages of my favorite werewolf novel The Psycho Alpha. Alpha Zachary Black. The cruel, ruthless, dangerously sexy Alpha of the Redwood Pack. The same man who kills anyone who breathes wrong around him. Especially women. He hates them. Despises weakness. And he definitely doesn’t believe in love. And he chose me as his personal omega. But there’s something wrong with me. I can hear his thoughts. Not just random thoughts. Dirty thoughts. Dark, possessive, obsessive ones about me. His so-called “personal omega.” He thinks I’m weak, fragile, breakable… but he also wants to ruin me, claim me, devour me. Every time he looks at me, his inner voice screams things his lips would never dare say out loud. I should be afraid of him. I should run far, far away. But how do you escape someone who owns your body and now, wants your soul? Worse, he’s starting to suspect I’m not who I say I am. Because I’m not just Christy, the omega. I’m a stranger in this world, trying to survive a plot I already know ends in blood.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

 The shrill sound of my alarm clock sliced through my ears like a knife. Still half-asleep, I stretched out my hand, knocked it off the bedside table, and went back to sleep.

 BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The alarm clock went off again for the second time.

 "Please let me sleep a little more... damn fucking alarm," I murmured, opening my eyes and grabbing my phone from the floor where I had carelessly tossed it the night before after reading my favorite novel.

 8:27 a.m. "Shit! I'm late!" I jumped out of bed, nearly falling over. I ran into the bathroom and took a quick shower. Afterward, I grabbed whatever clothes I could lay my hands on, threw them on, and dashed out like a madwoman. I was scheduled to perform a very important surgery in less than an hour, and I had overslept again.

 "Oh God, this is the third time I've been late this week," I muttered. I had stayed up all night reading Alpha Psycho, my favorite novel. I'd become so obsessed with it that it had become part of my bedtime routine. I had read it over and over again. I knew every detail about the crazy Alpha he had somehow become my favorite character.

 I hurried toward the old Mazda I inherited from my grandmother—as her favorite granddaughter. I tried starting the car, but it wouldn't start. It was like the universe was against me today. I tried again, but it wouldn't budge.

 "Please, please, not today," I whispered, turning the key again. Nothing. The car was completely dead. It was as if it had conspired with my alarm clock to ruin me. Frustrated, I rushed to the roadside and flagged down a taxi.

 "City Clinic," I told the driver breathlessly.

 "That'll be 80 bucks," he said.

 "What? Eighty dollars for a thirty-minute drive? I'll pay fifty."

 "No, ma'am. It's eighty," he insisted.

 "Fine. But drive as fast as you can. I need to be at the hospital as soon as possible."

 "Sure, ma'am," he replied, pulling onto the busy road. Almost immediately, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen. Ethan. The Chief Medical Director. A very scary man in his late fifties.

 Oh God. I'm in trouble now. I quickly pressed the answer button.

 "Where the hell are you, Christy?" he yelled.

 "I'm almost at the hospital, Mr. Ethan. My car wouldn't start this morning. I'm in a taxi now I will be there in the next five minutes," I lied smoothly, knowing full well I still had about thirty minutes to go.

 "If you're not here in five minutes, you'll be suspended!" he barked before ending the call.

 "Oh shit. I'm definitely in trouble now," I muttered, then turned to the driver. "Sir, can you go faster?"

 "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm already driving as fast as I can," he replied calmly.

 "But not fast enough to get me to the hospital in five minutes and save my job," I groaned.

 Then, out of nowhere, I heard a loud sound 

 BANG! A loud explosion. And everything went black. I can hear Faint voices around me.

 "She's still breathing! Someone call 911!"

 I heard the voices as I slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

 

 Where am I? Why does it smell like dirt and rotten flesh? I opened my eyes slowly. I was lying on something hard—definitely not my bed. And certainly not a hospital bed. I sat up immediately.

 Shit. My head hurts. It felt like I'd been hit with a hammer. As a doctor, I knew what stress headaches felt like. But this? This was something else. The piece of cloth beneath me looked like a bedsheet that hadn't been washed in years. The doors in the room had metal bars—like something out of a prison cell.

 Wait… am I in prison? How did I end up here? The last thing I remembered was being in a taxi, begging the driver to go faster… and someone shouting for 911. Am I dreaming? I pinched my arm hard.

 

 The pain was real.

 

 This wasn't a dream.

 

 I looked around and saw ten other girls sleeping nearby.

 

 "Oh please… where am I?" I asked aloud.

 

 One of the girls turned to me with a bright smile.

 "Elie, you're awake! Thank the Moon Goddess! We thought you were dead!" she cried, rushing to hug me.

 

 One by one, the others stood up, each rushing toward me, hugging me, thanking the Moon Goddess.

 

 "I'm not Elie. I'm Christy. You're mistaken. Who are you people? What am I doing here? And who is this Moon Goddess you're all thanking?" I asked, utterly confused.

 

 The girls looked at each other.

 

 One of them whispered, "I think Elie's lost her mind… the hit must've affected her brain."

 

 "Who is Elie? Where am I? Someone please explain what's going on!" I pleaded.

 

 "Elie, calm down," one of the girls said gently. "You just woke up after three days of being unconscious."

 

 "Three days?" I echoed in disbelief. "But I was just on my way to work this morning. I had surgery scheduled! I need to call Ethan—the Chief Surgeon!"

 

 "Ethan?" one girl repeated. "Who's that?"

 

 "He's the Chief Medical Director where I work. Where's my phone?" I asked urgently.

 

 They exchanged glances again. Then one of them said softly, "Elie, we don't use phones here. The Alpha said omegas and servants aren't allowed to have phones."

 

 "Omegas? Servants?" I blinked. "I'm not an omega or a servant—I'm a surgeon. And who is this Alpha who makes such ridiculous rules?"

 

 "Elie… you're an omega. Just like us. And this is the Redwood Pack," the smallest girl explained.

 

 "The Alpha imprisoned us three days ago because the dinner we cooked was salty. He killed the cook on the spot after one bite and ordered the rest of us thrown into the dungeon."

 

 I stared at her in horror.

 

 "Wait… did you say Redwood Pack?"

 

 "Yes," she nodded.

 

 "You mean… a real werewolf pack?"

 

 "Yes, of course," she said, now looking concerned. "Elie, what's wrong with you?"

 

 Just then, the heavy dungeon gate creaked open. A tall, scarred man stepped in.

 

 "Elie, Joan, Rosella, Annabel, and Mitchell—you five will serve the Alpha from today. The rest of you, back to duty."

 

 One of the girls started crying.

 "I don't want to serve the Alpha! I don't want to die!" she sobbed. "What about my pup? What if I make a mistake and he kills me too?"

 

 I stood frozen.

 

 No. No. This can't be real.

 

 I just got here. I'm not going to die in here—not inside a damn novel.

 

 Yes—the name Redwood Pack. Alpha Zach. The ruthless Alpha who kills over the slightest mistake.

 

 This can't be. That's the same Alpha Zach I read about last night. How did I end up inside the book?"

 "Are you omegas moving?" the guard growled. "The Alpha will kill you all if you delay any longer."

 The girls rushed out of the cell, and I followed them, my heart pounding. Please God… I don't want to die. Not now. Not like this. Not inside a book