To ruin an Omega

Chapter 142: Two steps ahead 3

FIA

I watched Cian’s face crumble before he could catch it, and something in my chest twisted hard. His eyes were glassy. Red-rimmed. The kind of look that came from holding everything in too long until your body betrayed you anyway.

“Cian, are you alright?”

He crossed the space between us in two strides and pulled me against him. His arms locked around me, tight enough that I could feel the tremor running through his shoulders. I wrapped my arms around his back and held on, not saying anything, not asking for anything. I just had to be there while he fell apart in the only way he’d allow himself to.

Over his shoulder, I caught movement. Aldric walked past us, and when our eyes met, his expression shifted. I saw something smug and cunningly knowing. It was that same sharp smile from the courtyard. He kept walking, disappearing around the corner without a word.

My blood went cold, but I kept my grip steady on Cian.

“The witch bailed on us,” Cian said into my hair. His voice was rough and scraped raw.

I pulled back just enough to look at him. “Maybe try getting a witch on your own. It can’t be that hard.”

He had to see he didn’t need to rely on Aldric. I wanted him to see the results that would come out from it if he just tried.

But Cian sighed.

“I asked my uncle for help because a lot of them seem to believe I killed Ophelia Cottonwood.” He drew in another breath that sounded painful. “But they’ve fortified their edges. Anyone connected to me will fail.”

The weight of it settled between us. Every door closing. Every ally turning away. And Aldric’s voice in the courtyard echoed in my head.

I have eyes and ears everywhere, Omega.

Cian’s hands moved to my shoulders, and he stepped back slightly to look at me. His jaw was tight. “Let’s just enjoy today. Let’s go to the ballroom, drink our fill, dance, forget our worries.”

The words sounded hollow… desperate. I could feel the disappointment radiating off him in waves, mixing with something darker. Rage, maybe. Or hopelessness dressed up as the defiance he wore so well.

“Cian, you don’t have to keep up appearances.” I kept my voice gentle. “We can just go. We can leave.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

His eyes locked onto mine. “I am now. You’re here.”

“That’s not enough.” I shook my head. “It’s okay that you’re disappointed. It is okay that you are at wits end. You don’t have to bottle it or pretend to be okay.”

“I swear I’m okay now.” But his voice cracked on the words.

“You need an outlet.”

“Yeah. Dancing.”

He grabbed my hand before I could argue, his fingers threading through mine. “Let’s go.”

I tried to pull back, but his grip tightened. Not painfully. No, he wouldn’t. But it was insistent. “Even if we pretend, we cannot run away from reality, Cian. This doesn’t mean escape.”

“I know and I plan to do things my way. The way I should have once those unsavoury rumors started being spread by Gabriel’s machinations.”

The way he said it made my stomach drop. There was something final in those words. Something that sounded like a decision already made.

“What do you mean by that?”

He sighed and started walking, tugging me along. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Cian—”

But he was already moving faster, half running toward the ballroom. I let him pull me because I could tell he needed me. Because stopping him now would just make everything worse. Because sometimes all you could do was stay close and hope they didn’t destroy themselves in the process.

Music spilled out into the hallway before we even reached the doors. Live instruments. Something classical and bright. The kind of music meant for celebration, for joy. It felt wrong.

We stepped inside, and the space opened up around us. High ceilings. Crystal chandeliers throwing fractured light across the polished floor. People everywhere, dressed in their finest, glasses in hand, laughter echoing off the walls.

Cian waved at a bartender who was weaving through the crowd with a tray. The man came over immediately, and Cian grabbed two glasses of something amber and strong-looking. He handed one to me and downed his in three long swallows.

I held mine without drinking, while I watched him. I watched the way his throat worked. The way his eyes squeezed shut for just a second.

“Are you drinking?” he asked.

“I don’t want to.”

He reached over and took the glass from my hand. Before I could stop him, before I could say anything, he tilted his head back and drank that one too. Both empty glasses went back on the tray with a clink that sounded too loud.

He laughed. It came out wild and goddamn unhinged. A new song started, something faster, and he grabbed my hand again.

“Oh, let’s dance.”

I followed him onto the floor because refusing felt worse. Because I could see the cracks spreading through him, and maybe this was the only way he knew how to hold himself together. Maybe dancing was somehow better than breaking.

Other couples moved around us. Julius and his new bride swept past, her dress a waterfall of fabric, his hand steady at her waist. They looked happy. Content. Like people who had everything figured out.

Cian’s hand found my waist, and I placed mine on his shoulder. We started moving, but his steps were too sharp. Too fast. Like he was trying to outrun something that was following him anyway.

But then the music shifted and the new number came as something slow and softer, something sweeping and melancholy, Cian’s movements gentled with it. His grip on my waist relaxed. His shoulders dropped just slightly.

I moved closer, closing the space between us until I could feel his heartbeat against my chest.

“You’re trying your best,” I said quietly.

“My best is not enough.”

“Your pack has kept power even after you took over. If you are a horrible leader, it would have fallen apart a long time ago.”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I come to learn every day that must be because of how strong my father was.”

“That’s not fair to yourself.”

“Perhaps not.” His voice went quieter. “But my mother never got poisoned while he was alive. Everyone that was for us was for us.”

The words hit me harder than they should have. Because he was certain that he was right. Because in his eyes, everything had fallen apart the moment his father died, and Cian had been left holding pieces he didn’t know how to put back together.

“I don’t know how to fix this for you,” I admitted.

“Well, you aren’t a fixer.” He pulled me a fraction closer. “You’re you. And your presence and concern is more than enough. I’ll be fine tomorrow. I just need time.”

I could feel him starting to shield. That familiar pull at the bond, the way he tried to close himself off when he was planning something he didn’t want me to know about.

“You almost shielded right then.” I looked up at him. “You didn’t tell me before. But I have to ask again. What do you plan to do?”

His eyes met mine, and for just a second, something mischievous flickered there. Something that looked almost like the Cian I knew before everything got so heavy.

Then his gaze shifted past me. To something over my shoulder.

Everything changed in a millisecond.

It was like watching ice form over water. Instant and complete. Cian froze mid-step, his hand going rigid at my waist. His face drained of color. His eyes went wide with shock so profound it looked physical.

I turned my head, following his stare.

I saw Blonde hair.

Long and perfectly styled, catching the light from the chandeliers. And eyes… Cornflower blue irises that are the kind of blue that looked like summer sky, clear and bright and impossible to look away from.

The woman stood near the edge of the dance floor. She was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made everything around her seem duller by comparison. Her dress was white, simple but elegant, and she wore it like she knew exactly what she looked like.

I recognized her.

She was looking directly at Cian.

His hand fell away from my waist. He stepped back, still staring, his mouth slightly open.

I’d never seen him look at anyone like that before.

The music kept playing around us. Other couples kept dancing. But we’d stopped completely, standing frozen in the middle of the floor while everything else moved on.

“Cian?” My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even seem to hear me. His entire world had narrowed to that woman with the blonde hair and those impossible blue eyes.

And she was smiling at him. A small, knowing smile. Like she’d been waiting for this exact moment. Like she’d known exactly what would happen when she walked into this room.

My hands felt cold. My chest felt tight. I wanted to reach for the bond, to feel what he was feeling, but I already knew. I could see it written across his face clear as daylight.

Recognition. Disbelief. Something deeper that I didn’t want to name.

Someone bumped into us, muttering an apology as they danced past. Cian didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stood there staring like he’d seen a ghost.

But it was worse than that. This was something worse after all. This was his old flame.