To ruin an Omega

Chapter 338: The Pulley

ALDRIC

I needed to see that room.

I pushed off the desk and crossed the room in four strides. My hand closed around the door handle and I yanked it open. The hallway was empty. Good. I didn’t need anyone else stopping me right now. I didn’t need more questions or more wounded looks or more people trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

I walked fast. My footsteps echoed down the corridor and I didn’t care. Let them hear me. Let them wonder where I was going and why I was moving like this.

The guest wing was at the far end of the second floor. I took the stairs two at a time and turned left at the landing. The carpet muffled my steps here but I could still hear my own breathing.

It was sharp. Too fast.

I forced myself to slow down. I forced myself to look calm even though no one was watching.

The door to Madeline’s room was closed. I stopped in front of it and stared at the wood grain. My hand hovered over the handle. I didn’t know what I expected to find. Maybe nothing. Maybe something. It still wouldn’t stop me from looking like a paranoid fool though.

I pushed the door open.

The room was empty.

Not just empty. It was clean. It was stripped. Like no one had ever been there at all.

I stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind me. The bed was made. The pillows were fluffed and sitting perfectly against the headboard. The nightstand was bare. There was no phone charger. No book. No glass of water. Nothing.

“No fucking way.”

I crossed to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. It was empty. I pulled open the second one. Empty. The third. The fourth. That too also had nothing. Not a scrap of fabric or a forgotten earring or even a receipt. Just bare wood and the faint smell of the cedar lining.

I turned to the wardrobe and threw the doors open. Hangers. That was it. A row of empty hangers hanging perfectly spaced on the bar. I shoved them aside and they clattered against each other. I looked at the floor of the wardrobe. Nothing. I looked at the shelf above. Nothing.

I stepped back and looked at the room again. My chest was tight. My hands were clenched into fists at my sides.

“How the fuck is this even possible?”

I walked to the bathroom and flipped the light on. The counter was spotless. The towels were folded and stacked neatly on the rack. The mirror was clean. I pulled open the medicine cabinet. Empty. I yanked open the drawers under the sink. Empty.

She was gone. Every trace of her was gone. Like she had never existed here at all.

I walked back into the bedroom and stood in the middle of the floor. I turned in a slow circle. I looked at the walls. The windows. The corners. There had to be something. Some sign. Some clue.

I stepped back into the hallway and looked both ways. No one. I walked toward the corner and stopped when I saw movement. Through my peripheral vision, I made out a sentinel. He was standing at the far end near the stairwell. Young. Maybe mid twenties. I didn’t recognize him.

“You,” I said. My voice carried down the hall. “Come here.”

He turned and walked toward me without hesitation. He stopped a few feet away and straightened his posture. His face was neutral. Respectful.

“Yes, Alpha?”

“How long have you been here?”

“This morning, sir. I started my shift at dawn.”

“Did you see the witch guest? Madeline. Did you see her leave?”

He shook his head. “No, sir. I have not seen her.”

I stared at him. “You are certain?”

“Yes, sir. But she could have left much earlier than that though. I had breakfast before stationing myself here. So I don’t know.”

Useless.

I didn’t respond. I just turned and walked back into the room. The door clicked shut behind me and I stood there breathing. My hand went to my pocket and I pulled out my phone. The screen was cracked on one corner from where I had slammed it onto the desk earlier. I stared at Ronan’s name in my contacts. I pressed call.

It rang once. Twice. I held my breath.

He picked up.

“Hello?”

Relief hit me so hard I almost laughed. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. Then Ronan’s voice came through. Quiet. Careful. “I understand.”

“No.” I ran a hand through my hair and turned to face the window. “I know how those words would have hurt you. You never really had a father figure. Not after your mother’s affair with me was discovered.”

“Father, it is—”

“I know I’m supposed to be there for you and show you to the world proudly.” I cut him off. I had to say this. I had to get it out and let him here it. His commitment to me needed to be tightened before it coul loosen. “And I will. In due time. But for now, you have to understand.”

“I do,” Ronan said. His voice was steady now. “I do.”

“That is good.”

I swallowed and looked at the floor. The carpet was a pale beige. Boring. Forgettable. Like everything else in this fucking room.

“I need you to do something for me,” I said.

“Of course.”

“The sentinels at the gate. I need to know when they saw Madeline leave.”

“I have been on that,” Ronan said. There was a rustling sound on his end like he was moving papers or flipping through notes. “Only one sentinel was at the gate that time and the sentinel claims that he did see Madeline leave.”

I froze. “Who?”

“The sentinel Garrett.”

My eyes had been scanning the room while he talked. Just moving over surfaces and furniture without really seeing anything. But they stopped now. The lowest part of the dresser. The knob. There were tracks on it. Light brown smudges. I moved closer and crouched down. Fingerprints. Or something like them.

I reached out and touched the knob. The smudges came off on my fingers. I rubbed them together and the texture was wrong. Too fine. Too soft. I brought my hand to my nose and inhaled.

Damp. Earthy. Like dust that had been buried deep underground and hadn’t seen sunlight in years.

I stared at my fingers. This wasn’t dirt from the garden. This wasn’t mud tracked in from outside. This was something else.

“Ronan,” I said. My voice sounded far away. “I want to talk to that sentinel.”

There was a pause. Then Ronan said, “I don’t know.”

I stood up. “What?”

“If it feels like you are digging, the sentinel might start to suspect something.” His tone was careful. Like he was trying not to push but also trying to make me understand. “That sentinel is one of the most deadly loyal ones to Cian. It’s better he stays in the dark and not think something is off with your questions.”

Heat flared in my chest. “You know how much I hate people who lord their ideas over me.”

“I am not—”

“I have made up my mind and that is final. I want to talk to the sentinel.”

There was silence. Then a sigh. “I will do that.”

The call ended.

I looked at the phone in my hand. The cracked screen reflected the light from the window and split it into fractured lines. I shoved it back into my pocket and turned toward the wardrobe. The doors were still open. The hangers were still hanging there like they were mocking me.

I started to walk away. Then something caught my eye. I stopped and turned back. The floor inside the wardrobe. There was something there. A shape. Faint. Like a shadow that didn’t belong.

I walked back and crouched down again. I pulled my phone out and turned on the flashlight. I pointed it at the floor of the wardrobe and leaned in.

It was a track. A shoe print. Or part of one. Most of it had been wiped away but there was a piece left. Just a fragment. The outline of a heel and part of the sole. The pattern was distinct. Geometric. Sharp edges and clean lines.

I stared at it. My brain was turning. Churning. Trying to make sense of what I was seeing. This wasn’t random. This wasn’t an accident. It was almost like someone had cleaned this room but they had missed this. They had missed this one tiny piece.

And then I remembered.

A memory from childhood. Sharp and clear like it had just happened yesterday. My father showing me the old passages in the estate. The hidden doors and secret routes that had been built into the walls generations ago. He had shown me this one too. The wardrobe in one of the guest rooms that he had pushed the back panel and it had swung open to reveal a narrow corridor behind it.

I had asked him why they existed. He had said they were escape routes. In case of attack or siege. In case the family needed to disappear.

I stood up and stepped into the wardrobe. My hands went to the back panel and I pushed. At first, there was nothing. So I pushed harder. But there was still nothing. I braced my feet and shoved with everything I had.

The panel moved.

It was slow. The hinges groaned and the wood scraped against the frame. But it moved. An inch. Then another. Then it swung open just enough for me to see what was behind it.

A passage. Dark and narrow. The walls were rough stone and the air smelled stale. Old. Like it hadn’t been disturbed in years.

I smiled.

It started small. Just a twitch at the corner of my mouth. Then it spread. Wide and sharp and full of something I couldn’t name. Relief. Anger. Satisfaction. Maybe all three.

“Well, this was interesting.”