To ruin an Omega

Chapter 119: Fire Starter

ALDRIC

I made it to my quarters before the composure shattered.

The door clicked shut behind me and my hands went to the nearest shelf. I swept everything off in one motion. Books tumbled to the floor. The sound of them hitting was satisfying. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each one a punctuation mark to the rage building in my chest.

She had nothing. No recording. No proof. Nothing.

I had won.

So why did my hands shake?

I grabbed another stack of books and hurled them across the room. They hit the wall with a crash that echoed through the space. Papers scattered. One of the hardcovers left a dent in the plaster.

Good.

I turned to the wall next to my desk. Drew my fist back and slammed it forward. Pain exploded across my knuckles. The impact jarred up my arm but I pulled back and hit it again. Again. Again.

The skin split. Blood smeared across the white paint. My knuckles screamed but I didn’t stop. I needed to feel it. Needed something real and immediate to anchor me because my thoughts were spiraling out in directions I couldn’t control.

That Omega bitch.

I hit the wall harder. More blood. The pain felt clean. Sharp. Better than the churning mess in my head.

She had nothing. I had made sure of it. Deleted the recording right in front of her face. Watched her realize she had lost. Watched the color drain from her cheeks and the fear bloom in her eyes.

So why did I feel like this?

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest. It came out wrong. Too high. Too jagged. I couldn’t stop it. I laughed and laughed while blood dripped from my hand onto the floor.

Slow burn. That had been the plan. Subtle. Careful. Let her destroy herself through small mistakes. Let Cian see her for what she was over time. A liar. A manipulator. Someone who couldn’t be trusted.

But I didn’t want that anymore.

I wanted her dead.

The word pulsed through my skull like a heartbeat. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Not ruined. Not discredited. Not quietly removed from the picture.

Dead.

I wanted to watch the life leave her eyes. I wanted to see her realize in her final moments that she had been nothing. That all her little schemes and her stupid attempts at cleverness had amounted to exactly what they deserved.

Nothing.

My breathing came too fast. I forced myself to slow it down. In. Out. In. Out.

Think.

How could I do it? How could I make sure she ended up in the ground without it tracing back to me?

The problem was Cian.

I hadn’t accounted for that. I hadn’t even seen it coming. My nephew was supposed to use her and discard her. Maybe keep her around as a convenient body if he was that down bad. A warm hole to fuck when he needed release. Nothing more.

But he had gone soft for her.

The stupidity… To go soft on her.

The word tasted like ash in my mouth.

Cian looked at her the way his father used to look at Morrigan. With something that bordered on tenderness. On care. On feelings that had no place in arrangements like theirs.

Variables were changing. Shifting faster than I could track them.

What else would change? What other pieces of my carefully constructed plan would fall apart because people refused to behave the way they were supposed to?

I had built an image over years. Decades. The supportive uncle. The wise advisor. The man who stepped in when Cian’s father died and made sure the boy became the Alpha he needed to be for the time being.

Surely Cian wouldn’t throw that away for some Omega’s ramblings.

Right?

I waited for the certainty to come. For that solid foundation of knowing that I had done enough and been enough and secured enough loyalty that nothing could shake it.

It didn’t come.

For the first time in longer than I could remember, I didn’t have an answer.

The rage surged back. Hotter this time. More violent. I spun toward the mirror mounted on the far wall and drove my fist into it. Glass exploded outward. Shards rained down. Some embedded in my knuckles. I pulled back and punched again. The mirror spiderwebbed further. Blood mixed with glass and reflected light.

Again.

Again.

The pain was exquisite now. My hand was a mangled mess but I kept going. Kept destroying the image staring back at me. That face. That smile I wore like armor. All of it needed to break.

The door burst open.

Footsteps rushed across the floor. Hands grabbed my arm and yanked it back before I could hit the mirror again.

“What are you doing?”

I tried to pull free. Whoever had grabbed me was strong. They held on tight and spun me around.

My other hand shot out. Fingers closed around a throat. Soft. Delicate. Regardless, I squeezed.

The person made a choking sound. Tried to pry my fingers away but I was stronger. Always stronger. I could crush this windpipe. Feel the cartilage give way beneath my grip. Watch them realize they were about to die.

“Dad.”

The word cut through the red haze.

“It’s me. Elara.”

I blinked. Focused. My daughter’s face swam into view. Her eyes were wide. Scared. Her hands clawed at my wrist.

I let go.

She stumbled back. Gasped for air. One hand went to her throat. The skin there was already turning red. Finger-shaped marks blooming across her pale neck.

Horror crashed over me. Cold and sharp. “Sweetheart.” My voice came out hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

Elara didn’t run. She never ran. Just like her mother that way. Stubborn. Fierce. She rushed back toward me and grabbed my destroyed hand. “What the fuck happened?” Her eyes darted from my bloody knuckles to the shattered mirror to the books scattered across the floor. “It’s that Omega bitch, isn’t it?”

“No baby.”

“Don’t lie to me, father.” She looked up at me. Fire burned in her gaze. So much like her mother. “I was there when she was throwing weird jabs at you during breakfast.” Her grip on my hand tightened. “What did she say to you? Tell me.”

An opportunity.

It opened up in front of me like a door I hadn’t known was there. My brilliant, impulsive, protective daughter standing in front of me asking how she could help.

I could use this.

“You know how Luna Morrigan coded.”

Elara’s expression shifted. Understanding dawned. “Yeah.”

“I suspected that Thorne took the fall for something he didn’t do.” The lie came easily. I had been telling stories for so long they felt more natural than truth. “I suspected it was actually Fia.” I paused. Let that settle. “I might have been wrong.”

“You weren’t wrong.” Elara’s voice dropped lower. Harder.

“She made sure to let me know though.” I pulled my hand free from hers gently. Looked at the damage. Glass glinted between torn skin. “Said now that she’s closer to Cian, she can spin any story she wants against me.” I met my daughter’s eyes. “Said I better watch my mouth and my back.”

“That conniving bitch.”

I reached out and pulled Elara into my arms. Careful not to get blood on her dress. “Do not do anything.”

She stiffened against me. “But—”

“I’m telling you in confidence.” I held her tighter. “She’s just rattled, I guess. An Omega with sudden power.” I pulled back enough to look at her face. “It must be new. Addicting and scary. I understand that.”

“I don’t.” Elara’s jaw set in that stubborn line I knew so well. “Nobody fucks with my father.” She pulled away from me completely. “I’ll deal with that bitch.”

“Elara—”

But she was already moving. Already storming toward the door with purpose in every step.

The door slammed behind her.

I stood alone in the wreckage of my quarters. Blood dripped from my hand onto the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap.

My daughter would make Fia’s life hell. She had her mother’s temper and her mother’s inability to let slights go unanswered. She would be vicious. Creative. She would dig at Fia in ways that couldn’t be traced back to me.

After all, she had always been this way.

It was the perfect distraction.

I needed that. Needed something to occupy Fia’s attention and energy while I prepared for the real play. The introduction of Madeline.

That performance would require my full focus. Every detail needed to be perfect. Every word. Every gesture. Every manufactured emotion.

I couldn’t afford any more variables spinning out of control.

I looked down at my mangled hand. Glass caught the light. Blood still oozed from the deeper cuts. I should clean it. Bandage it. Take care of the damage.

But not yet.

I wanted to feel it a little longer. Wanted the pain to remind me what was at stake.

That Omega thought she could outmaneuver me. Thought she was clever enough to trap me with a recording and a few pointed questions.

She had no idea who she was dealing with.

I had survived worse than her. Had destroyed better than her. Had built an empire of influence and power on the backs of people who thought they could challenge me.

They were all gone now.

She would be gone too.

I just needed to be patient. Needed to let the pieces fall into place. Let Elara do her damage. Let Cian’s attachment fray under the weight of constant conflict. Let Fia realize that she had made an enemy she couldn’t defeat.

And when the moment came, when everything aligned perfectly, I would strike.

Not with poison this time. That had been too subtle. Too easy to miss or misattribute.

No. When I moved against her, it would be final. Absolute. There would be no coming back from it.

I walked to the window. Looked out at the grounds. Everything here was mine. The pack. The power. The legacy.

Some Omega with delusions of grandeur wasn’t going to take that from me. Neither was some pussy obsessed nephew.

I pressed my bloody hand against the glass. Left a perfect print there. Red and stark against the clear surface.

I let it stay. I let it remind me.

This was war now.

And I always won my wars.