To ruin an Omega

Chapter 386: The Healing Factor 1

FIA

We moved quickly through the corridors.

Thorne and Maren carried Gabriel between them. His body hung limp and heavy. His head lolled forward with each step they took.

I walked beside them with my hand hovering near Gabriel’s shoulder. Not touching per se. I was, however, ready in case they needed help.

Mother-in-law, Morrigan, followed close behind. Her footsteps were slower than they should have been. Uneven.

I glanced back at her.

Her face had gone pale again. The color that had returned after she woke from the poison had started to fade. She pressed one hand against the wall to steady herself.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

She waved me off with her free hand.

“I am fine. Just tired.”

But she did not look fine.

We reached the infirmary, and Thorne pushed the door open with his shoulder. They carried Gabriel inside and lowered him carefully onto one of the cots.

His breathing was still shallow. Still uneven.

I moved to stand beside the bed while Maren began checking his vitals. Her fingers pressed against his wrist. Then his neck. Her brow furrowed.

“His pulse is weak,” she said quietly.

Thorne moved to the other side of the bed and started checking the stitches on Gabriel’s throat. They were holding. No fresh blood seeped through.

Behind us, Morrigan swayed where she stood.

I turned just in time to see her grab the edge of a nearby table to keep from falling.

“Grand Luna,” I said sharply.

Maren looked up immediately. She abandoned Gabriel and crossed to the grand Luna in three quick steps.

“You need to sit down,” Maren said.

“I am fine.”

“You are not fine. You are about to collapse.”

Maren guided her toward a chair and helped her sit. Morrigan sank into it with a soft exhale. Her eyes closed briefly.

“I will make you something,” Maren said. “It will help you rest properly. The moss is losing its power.”

“I do not need to rest.”

“You do. Your body has been through too much today. The white moss only delayed the strain. It did not remove it.”

Morrigan opened her eyes and looked at Maren.

“How long will I be out?”

“Hours. Maybe longer.”

Morrigan’s jaw tightened, but she nodded.

“Fine. But make it quick.”

Maren moved toward the cabinets and began pulling out various bottles and jars. She worked quickly. Measuring. Mixing. Her hands moved with practiced precision.

I turned back to Gabriel.

Thorne had finished checking the stitches and was now examining the rest of him. Looking for other injuries we might have missed.

I stood at the foot of the bed and stared at Gabriel’s face.

He looked so different from Aldric, even though they did share similarities.

It was strange how my mind kept trying to place Aldric over his face, like it could force the resemblance into something clearer. As I said, there were similarities, yes. The line of the jaw. The shape of his brow. But where Aldric carried a kind of sharp, controlled presence, Gabriel looked… worn.

Hollowed out.

His skin had a dull cast to it, stretched faintly over his cheekbones as if something beneath had been slowly taken from him over time. Not starved in the obvious sense, but drained. His lips were dry, faintly cracked, and there was a tension in his face even in unconsciousness, like rest wasn’t something his body knew how to hold onto.

Hungry.

Not just for food.

Something deeper sat under it, something that made my chest tighten the longer I looked. Like whatever kept him going was running low, and had been for a while.

Years of imprisonment must have stripped him down to almost nothing. His cheeks were hollow. His skin was stretched too tight over his bones. His hair was a mess of tangles and gray.

“It must have been nerve-wracking,” I said quietly.

Thorne looked up at me.

“What?”

“Being imprisoned for years. Not knowing if anyone would find you. Not knowing if you would ever get out.”

I paused.

“It is insane that someone you love can just do that to you.”

The words settled in the air between us.

I thought about my mother.

About my grandmother.

About what they had suffered at the hands of Valentine Blossom.

The experiments. The pain. The way he had used them and would have eventually discarded them like they were nothing.

My hand curled into a fist at my side.

Valentine.

I had to tell Cian about him. About what he had done. About what he was capable of.

Cian needed to know so he could avoid all and any more contact with that cruel man.

Though honestly, Cian killing him would be more than favorable.

The man had broken the tenets of supernatural society. He had harmed people. Werewolves especially. He had destroyed lives.

He deserved whatever justice came for him.

Behind me, I heard Maren moving. The soft clink of glass against glass. The quiet murmur of her voice as she spoke to Morrigan.

Then Morrigan’s voice came softer.

“Thank you.”

I glanced back and saw Maren handing her a small cup. Morrigan drank it quickly. Her face twisted at the taste, but she finished it.

Within moments, her eyes started to droop.

Maren helped her stand and guided her toward one of the other cots. Morrigan lay down without protest. Her eyes closed almost immediately.

Her breathing evened out.

She was asleep.

Maren pulled a blanket over her and then returned to where Thorne and I stood beside Gabriel.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Stable,” Thorne said. “For now.”

I looked down at Gabriel again.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Too shallow.

Then his body jerked.

It was small at first. Just a twitch in his shoulder.

Then it happened again. Harder this time.

His whole body started shaking.

“What the fuck is happening?” Thorne asked.

Maren moved immediately. She grabbed Gabriel’s shoulders and tried to hold him still but the convulsions were too strong.

His back arched off the bed. His limbs thrashed. His head snapped to the side.

“Help me hold him down,” Maren said.

I moved to the other side of the bed and grabbed his legs. Thorne took his arms.

We tried to keep him still, but his body fought against us. The shaking grew more violent. More erratic.

Foam started forming at the corners of his mouth.

“Goddess,” I whispered.

Maren’s eyes were wide. She looked at Thorne.

“Get the restraints.”

Thorne released Gabriel’s arms and ran toward the far cabinet. He pulled out leather straps and brought them back quickly.

We worked together to secure Gabriel’s wrists and ankles to the bed. The restraints held but his body still convulsed against them.

The foam at his mouth turned pink.

Blood.

“I am confused,” I said. My voice came out shaky. “What is happening to him? It does not make sense for him to be going into shock when the wound was covered up. He should be healing now.”

He was an Alpha after all. Malnutrition or worse, their healing factor was ten times greater than that of most wolves.

Maren pressed her fingers against his neck as she checked his pulse.

Her face went pale.

“I do not think he is healing.”

“What do you mean?”

“His immune system and healing factor must be in shambles right now. Years of malnutrition. Years of being cut off from his wolf. His body does not know how to heal itself anymore. Not fast enough.”