To ruin an Omega

Chapter 159: Blood to Blood

ALDRIC

The bathroom door on the second floor clicked shut behind me. I stood there for a moment, letting the silence settle over my shoulders like a familiar coat. The chaos was contained now. Cian had his bleeding omega. Her sister, Hazel had her broken hands, her shattered pride and a new ally in me.

And I had what I came for.

I reached into my chest pocket. My fingers found the handkerchief first. The outer one was white. Pristine. I pulled it out slowly, feeling the weight of what was wrapped inside. The second handkerchief was crimson. Not by design. By opportunity.

I unwrapped it carefully. The fabric was still damp. Still fresh. Blood had a particular smell when it was this new. Metallic. Sharp. Almost sweet if you knew what to look for.

Fia’s blood.

I hummed under my breath. A tune I couldn’t name but had been stuck in my head since yesterday. My fingers traced the edge of the stained fabric. It was more than I’d hoped for. Much more. I’d expected to have to manufacture an opportunity. Create some elaborate scenario where I could get close enough to take what I needed.

But the universe had delivered it right into my lap.

Well. Technically onto the bathroom floor where I’d knelt beside her while everyone else was distracted. A quick press of the handkerchief against the pooling blood while I pretended to check her pulse. Nobody had noticed. Nobody ever noticed the helpful uncle doing his due diligence.

I pulled the small bottle of sanitizer on the sink. Clear liquid sloshed inside as I unscrewed the cap. The sharp scent of alcohol filled my nostrils. I poured all of it into the sinkhole and watched it slowly drain down the pipes.

Then I washed the bottle clean with water and dapped a generous amount of the water over the bloodied handkerchief, watching as the water mixed with the blood. Red swirled into clear. The liquid dripped down in thin streams.

I held the container beneath it. A makeshift vial I’d made specifically for this purpose. The blood and water mixture collected at the bottom. Diluted. But viable. More than viable.

When the last drop fell I screwed the cap back on the vial. Held it up to the light. The contents caught the fluorescent glow from above. Rudy red. Almost innocent looking.

I allowed myself a small smile.

Then I tossed both handkerchiefs into the waste bin. The white one landed on top. Covering the evidence.

The vial went into my inner pocket. Right next to my heart. I could feel its weight there. Insignificant in terms of mass. Significant in every other way that mattered.

I moved to the sink and turned on the tap again. Water rushed out. Cold first, then gradually warming as I held my hands beneath the stream. I pumped soap from the dispenser. Lathered. Scrubbed between each finger. Under my nails. The water ran clear almost immediately but I kept washing. Thirty seconds. Forty. Until my hands were raw and pink.

I dried them on a paper towel. Tossed it in the bin with the handkerchiefs.

Then I looked up at the mirror.

The bruise was already forming on the left side of my neck. Purple spreading beneath the skin like spilled ink. I touched it gently. Pressed. The pain was immediate and sharp. Cian’s elbow had caught me there when I’d tackled him away from Hazel. Not intentionally. Or maybe it was. Hard to say in that moment when my nephew had been fully committed to murder.

That bothered me.

Not the bruise. I’d had worse. Would have worse again. The physical pain was irrelevant. Temporary.

What bothered me was the look in Cian’s eyes. The complete and total absence of anything resembling control. There were always limits with Cian. Lines he wouldn’t cross no matter how angry he got. Boundaries built from years of careful cultivation. I’d helped shape those boundaries myself. Reinforced them. Made sure they held.

But in that bathroom he’d forgotten they existed.

He’d forgotten I existed.

All that rage. All that violence. All that desperate, clawing need. It had been directed at one thing and one thing only. Protecting her. Saving her. Destroying anything that threatened her.

I’d never seen him like that before. Not even with his mother. Not even when his father had died. There had always been a part of Cian that remained mine. Tethered to me. Listening to me.

But today he’d tried to kill Hazel with me standing right there. Had thrown me off like I was nothing more than an obstacle. Had broken that girl’s hand with a viciousness that made even me pause.

And all of it for the omega.

I looked at my reflection. Studied the bruise. Traced the edge of it with my fingertips.

I was losing my hold on Cian. The realization sat heavy in my chest. Uncomfortable. Unacceptable. He was supposed to be mine. My nephew. My protégé. My carefully constructed masterpiece of manipulation and control.

But that girl was unraveling everything.

Thread by thread. Moment by moment. She was pulling him away from me and toward something I couldn’t predict. Couldn’t control. That made her dangerous in ways Madeline could never be.

Madeline was obvious. Clumsy. A blunt instrument that thought itself a scalpel. But Fia?

Fia was something else entirely.

I pulled the vial back out of my pocket. Held it between thumb and forefinger. The contents shifted. Settled. I’d thought it would take months of plotting to get this. To get what I needed for the tests. For the confirmation.

But she’d handed it to me tonight. Not intentionally of course. But handed it to me all the same.

That bathroom scene. The recording she’d mentioned. The way she’d positioned herself as the victim while Hazel had played perfectly into the villain role. It had been almost too neat. Too convenient.

She’d planned it. I was certain of that now. The shattered glass. The cut throat. Just deep enough to bleed impressively but not deep enough to actually endanger herself. She’d known exactly where to place the shard. Exactly how much pressure to apply.

She’d set a trap and Hazel had walked right into it.

More than that. She’d set a trap knowing I would be there. Knowing Cian would lose control. Knowing the bond would lead him straight to her at exactly the right moment for maximum impact.

It was a message. Crimson clear as the blood I now held in my hand. She was telling me she understood the game we were playing. That she was willing to match me move for move. That she’d drag herself through hell if it meant dragging me down with her.

Poetic. Really.

If she wasn’t such a massive thorn in my side I might have appreciated the artistry of it.

But appreciation didn’t change the reality. She was becoming a problem. A variable I hadn’t fully accounted for. I’d underestimated her. That much was obvious now. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

I tucked the vial back into my pocket and pulled out my phone. The screen lit up. I scrolled through my contacts until I found the name I needed.

Madeline.

My thumb hovered over her name. Madeline was supposed to be a slow burn. A gradual reintroduction into Cian’s life. A familiar face. A comfortable presence. Someone who could remind him of who he was before the omega. Before the bond. Before everything got so complicated.

But slow wasn’t going to work anymore. Not with Cian spiraling this fast. Not with Fia gaining ground.

I needed to accelerate the timeline. Push Madeline forward even harder. Use tonight’s chaos as the opening I needed.

I typed quickly. My thumbs moved across the screen with practiced efficiency.

Find Cian. Use this opportunity to get closer to him. Be there for him. Help the omega if you must. Build trust. I need you in position before Morrigan.

I read it over once. Twice. Then hit send.

The message delivered immediately. Read receipt showed up seconds later. Madeline was alert and ready which was good.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and let my hand rest there. Feeling the shape of the vial through the fabric. Such a small thing. Such enormous implications.

The tests would tell me what I needed to know. Confirm what I suspected. And once I had that confirmation I could move forward with the next phase. The necessary phase.

But that was later. First I needed to deal with the Cian situation. Needed to pull him back from the edge before he fell completely into whatever this thing with Fia was becoming. There were other options. Bloodier options. Permanent solutions to temporary problems.

But those were last resorts. I preferred cleaner methods. Surgical strikes rather than butchery. Madeline would work. She had to work. Because if she didn’t…

Well. I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

I looked at myself in the mirror one more time. The bruise stared back at me. A reminder. A warning. Cian had hurt me tonight. Not badly. Not seriously. But he’d done it without hesitation. Without thought.

That couldn’t happen again.

I smoothed down my jacket and adjusted my collar to hide most of the bruising. Ran a hand through my hair. Composed myself back into the concerned uncle. The helpful family member. The man everyone trusted.

The mask settled into place like it always did.

I smiled at my reflection.

Fia thought she was clever. Thought she’d won some sort of victory tonight by surviving. By getting her evidence. By turning everyone against Hazel.

But she’d also given me exactly what I needed. Her blood. Her old enemies. Her confidence that she could play this game and win.

She was about to learn something important. Something fundamental about the difference between us.

I’d been playing games like this since before she was born. Had perfected the art of manipulation while she was still learning to walk. Had buried bodies she didn’t even know existed.

She wanted to match my madness? Fine. I’d show her exactly how deep it ran. How far I was willing to go. How little I cared about collateral damage.

Starting with that vial in my pocket.