To ruin an Omega

Chapter 285: The Discovery

FIA

Maren moved with the kind of efficiency that came from habit and exhaustion. She slid open the drawer, pulled out her tools, and settled beside the bed like she had done this a thousand times before. The girl pushed herself upright, straighter than before, and her eyes followed every movement Maren made with unsettling focus.

“Look straight ahead for me,” Maren said.

The girl did not argue. She fixed her gaze forward, still and obedient. Maren flicked on a penlight and guided the beam into the girl’s left eye, then the right. She leaned so close that a strand of her hair slipped forward across her cheek. Her brow tightened as she studied what she saw.

“Pupillary response is normal,” she murmured. “No photophobia. No inflammation.”

The penlight clicked off and disappeared into the tray. She picked up the ophthalmoscope next, adjusting the lens with careful fingers before pressing it to her eye. The room fell quiet except for the faint rustle of fabric and the hum of electricity in the walls.

“The retina looks completely intact,” she said softly. “No scarring on the cornea. The optic nerve shows no signs of damage whatsoever.”

She lowered the instrument and stared at me. Then at the girl. Then back at me again, as if hoping one of us would contradict what she had just seen.

“This should be impossible,” she said. “Her medical chart said she had third-degree burns across both eyes. The corneas were completely opacified. There was thermal damage to the retinal tissue. I documented all of it myself less than an hour ago.”

Her hands hovered over the tray for a moment before she grabbed another tool, one with a curved mirror that caught the light and threw it back in a sharp white arc.

“Follow my finger.”

The girl’s eyes moved left, then right, then up and down with perfect coordination. Not a flicker of hesitation. Not a single delay.

Maren set the instrument down too carefully, like it might shatter if she moved too fast. Her hands trembled in a way she clearly did not want anyone to notice.

“There’s no residual damage,” she said. “Not even minor scarring. Her visual acuity appears completely normal. It’s like nothing ever happened to her at all.”

The words sat in the room and refused to move. They pressed against the walls and the ceiling until the air felt heavier than it should have.

Then someone knocked.

“Hey,” a male voice called through the door. “I want to check on my delicate.”

My body reacted before my brain could catch up. I crossed the room in quick strides and started tearing the curtains open one by one, letting the daylight pour in until the room no longer felt like a secret. When I pulled the last curtain aside and looked down, Ronan stood directly below the window.

He had a phone in his hand. His head tilted up as if he had felt my gaze. Our eyes met. For a second, surprise flickered across his face before it smoothed into something pleasant and harmless. He lifted the phone slightly, like he wanted me to notice it, like he wanted me to believe he had a reason to be standing there.

I smiled back, polite and empty, even though I knew exactly what he had been doing. Watching. Waiting. Listening for anything unusual.

I turned away from the window and walked back to the door. The sweater lay crumpled beneath the crack, and I bent to retrieve it, shaking it out before tugging it over my head. The fabric smelled faintly of dust and something sharper beneath it.

My hand closed around the door handle.

“Wait.”

The girl’s voice stopped me mid-motion. I turned.

She was already moving, reaching for the discarded bandages Maren had left behind. Her fingers worked quickly as she wrapped the cloth back over her eyes, careful and precise, covering every inch until the bandages sat exactly where they had been before.

“What are you doing?” Morrigan asked.

The girl adjusted the knot at the back of her head, testing the tightness like she had done it a hundred times.

“You can open the door now,” she said.

Something in her tone told me not to argue. I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The man from the hallway stepped inside immediately. Up close, he felt even larger, his shoulders filling the doorway and his presence swallowing the room. His gaze moved across everything in slow, deliberate sweeps. The curtains. The equipment. Maren’s shaking hands. My face. Morrigan. Finally, the girl.

He walked toward the bed, searching for something that did not belong.

“I was being examined,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “And I’m not yet done with those examinations. So is there a reason why you are bothering us?”

Mother-in-law stepped forward beside me, her chin lifting with quiet challenge.

“Who are you and why are you here?”

Ronan appeared in the doorway then, as if the moment had summoned him. The timing felt too neat to be coincidence, like threads pulling tight in a pattern I could almost see.

The man pointed at the girl.

“I’m her handler,” he said.

Ronan stepped inside like he owned the space, all easy confidence and false politeness.

“I apologize, Grand Luna,” he said, directing the words to Morrigan before glancing at the handler. “This is just how these brutes behave.”

The handler’s jaw flexed hard enough that I noticed the muscle jump beneath his skin.

“Who are you calling a brute?”

Ronan did not answer right away. He walked straight toward him, unhurried, until they were standing almost chest to chest. The air between them tightened in a way that made my shoulders stiffen without me meaning to.

“There is your delicate,” Ronan said, gesturing toward the bed. “Blinded and being treated. What now?”

The handler held his ground for a few seconds, long enough for the silence to start feeling sharp. Then he stepped around Ronan and moved to the bedside.

“Are you alright?”

The girl nodded.

“The pain is not as bad as before,” she said softly. “I do feel significantly better.”

Ronan turned back toward the handler, already shifting into something smoother.

“Come,” he said. “Let me write you the check so you can be out of our hair as soon as possible.”

He glanced at the girl, and for a moment his expression changed. It looked like pity. Or regret. Or maybe I only wanted it to be one of those things.

“Your eyes might be gone,” he said. “But I assure you, you will be paid in full.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

The handler watched her a moment longer before turning and following Ronan toward the door. Ronan paused at the threshold and let his gaze sweep the room one last time. When his eyes landed on me, they stayed there a beat too long to be accidental.

“I apologize,” he said. “You can continue your examination.”

“Thank you.”

They stepped out. The door shut.

I exhaled slowly, realizing only then that I had been holding my breath the entire time. My chest felt tight and my hands would not stop trembling. I crossed the room and locked the door again. The click sounded louder than it should have.

“It felt like you were hiding from Ronan,” Morrigan said.

“Well, I am.”

“What?” Maren blurted.

Morrigan turned toward me, eyes wide. “What?”

“Ronan is also not an ally of ours.”

“What?” Maren repeated, her voice rising.

I did not try to explain. There was too much happening, too many threads tangling together in my head. I walked back to the bed instead.

The girl was already unwrapping the bandages, fingers careful as the cloth loosened and fell away. She blinked, and her eyes looked impossibly clear.

“Is there a reason you’re pretending not to be fixed?” I asked.

She studied me in a way that made my skin prickle.

“When I touched you,” she said quietly, “I saw a lot of things.”

My stomach dropped.

“What things?”

“Your memories. Including how you feel about that Beta.”

I felt Morrigan’s gaze snap to me. Maren’s too.

“He didn’t want me to touch him when the Alpha wanted to test my capabilities,” she continued. “So I know how a sudden miracle would look, considering how interested he was in how you survived the accident.”

The words hit hard enough to steal my breath. She saw that much. Whatever gift she carried felt less like a gift and more like something dangerous.

“I promised the Alpha I would do something,” she said. “And before my handler comes back, I need to do it now. I need a pen and paper.”

I looked at Maren. She hesitated for a heartbeat before hurrying to the cabinet and returning with a notepad and pen. The girl took them and placed the pad on her lap.

Then she started drawing.

Her hand moved fast, sure, like she already knew every line before the pen touched the paper. There was no hesitation or second guessing. Just steady strokes building shape and shadow.

I moved closer without thinking. Morrigan stepped beside me.

A face began to form. I noticed the strong jaw. The high cheekbones. The eyes that seemed to stare even though they were only pencil lines.

My breath caught in my throat.

I knew that face. Not from real life. From the dream. The horrible one where I had been strapped down in that dark, freezing room, forced to watch things done to me that I never wanted to remember.

She kept going, adding detail after detail until the likeness felt undeniable.

It was him.

The man from my nightmare. The image that had clung to me after waking, leaving that sick weight in my stomach that never quite faded.

The girl set the pen down and looked up.

“Do you know who this is?”

My hands felt cold as I stared at the drawing.

“No,” I whispered. “But I’ve seen him before.”

Her expression darkened. “Yes. I saw him when you touched me as well. The thing is, I also saw this man when I connected to whoever tried to kill you.”

Morrigan and Maren spoke at the same time.

“Valentine?”