To ruin an Omega

Chapter 156: Resist

MADELINE

I walked straight out of the ballroom and into a corner of the corridor because I was bothered. Deeply, uncomfortably bothered, the kind that sits under your skin and refuses to be ignored. It was about the Omega. About Fia.

I had told myself I was above it. That I would not be the villain in anyone’s story, least of all hers. You could not fight what the heart wanted, that was always the excuse, the clean and reasonable one. If Cian still chosen me, then so be it. Fate, instinct, all of those things people liked to blame when choices became inconvenient.

But tonight was doing a very good job of proving just how wrong Aldric’s careful assumptions had been.

I had seen it. The moment Cian realized she was gone. The way he had charged out of the ballroom, barely contained, his control slipping in that unmistakable way that meant his wolf was right there, clawing at the surface. That was not concern out of obligation. That was not duty to a bond he tolerated.

He loved her.

The realization landed hard and stayed there.

It bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

Because even though there was still something in his eyes when he looked at me, something familiar and unresolved that he could deny all he wanted, it did not change the truth. Whatever had once been mine now belonged, at least in part, to that Omega. Maybe more than part. Maybe most of it.

I did not understand how that was even possible.

I pulled out my powder mirror and stared at my reflection longer than necessary. My ears were red, flushed in a way no amount of makeup could hide. That was how unsettled I was. I adjusted my earring just to give my hands something to do, even though it was already sitting perfectly.

My phone buzzed against the side of my clutch.

I did not need to look to know who it was, but I did anyway. Aldric’s name glowed on the screen, neat and unyielding. The message was short, as his instructions always were when he expected obedience rather than discussion.

Find Cian. Use this opportunity as an aperitif to get even closer to Cian before Morrigan. Help the Omega if you must.

I stared at the words. Once. Then again. By the third time, my mouth had gone dry.

Help the Omega if I must.

What did that even mean in Aldric’s world?

I slid the phone back into my clutch and smoothed my hands down the front of my dress. The silk was cool, grounding, a small mercy against the heat crawling up my neck. I took a steadying breath, then another, trying to shake the feeling that I was being nudged into something I did not fully understand yet.

Aldric’s message lingered anyway, needling at the back of my mind.

I snapped the powder mirror shut and turned back toward the ballroom.

Something had changed while I was gone. The air felt different, thicker somehow. People were gathered in tight little knots, their voices low but animated, the kind of hushed excitement that only ever came from witnessing drama you were not directly involved in. Eyes flicked toward doorways. Heads leaned together. Information was already spreading.

I searched the room for Cian again, hoping foolishly that he had returned. He had been there earlier, standing near Alpha Joseph Hughes with that carefully neutral expression he wore when he was holding himself together by sheer will. Now there was no sign of him.

Fia was gone too.

The space she should have occupied felt conspicuously empty, like a missing note in a song that refused to resolve.

I moved through the crowd slowly. Deliberately. My heels clicked against the marble floor but the sound was swallowed by the whispers around me.

“Did you see what happened?”

“I heard it was quite the scene.”

“Coming to this party was really a smart choice.”

I paused near a group of women. They were huddled together, their faces animated with gossip. One of them was practically vibrating with the need to share what she knew.

“All the tea that came out today alone,” she said. Her voice carried despite her attempt to whisper. “Turns out the Omega isn’t a bitch after all. She’s been surrounded by a snake for a sister all along.”

Another woman nodded eagerly. “I just came back from the bathroom by the hallway and let me tell you, Hazel Hughes is such a snake. The things she said, the recording Fia played. It was insane.”

Hughes.

The name caught my attention. I turned toward them and took a few steps closer. They noticed me immediately. Their conversation faltered.

“Hughes,” I said. Kept my voice light. Curious. “Isn’t that Silvercreek?”

The first woman blinked. Then nodded. “Yes. Alpha Joseph Hughes’s daughters.”

“You said something about her sister.” I tilted my head slightly. “That’s Cian’s mate, right?”

“Yes.” The woman leaned in like she was sharing a secret even though half the party probably knew by now. “Hazel tried to kill her own sister. Can you believe it? There was a recording. Proof of everything. She framed Fia into a marriage with Alpha Cian with help from the poor girl’s ex and then murdered him when his guilt came to roost. It’s insane.”

The pieces clicked into place.

Aldric’s message. Find Cian. Help the Omega if you must.

He was positioning me once more.

“Where did this happen?” I asked.

“The bathroom near the west wing.” The woman gestured vaguely. “But I think people are dispersing now. The show’s over.”

I didn’t wait to hear more. I turned and walked toward the west wing. My pace was measured. Controlled. I couldn’t run. Couldn’t draw attention. But inside my chest my heart was beating faster.

The hallway opened up ahead of me. People were streaming out of an area near the bathrooms. They talked in low voices. Some looked shocked. Others looked thrilled by what they’d witnessed.

I caught sight of Alpha Joseph Hughes. He was walking toward a woman who must have been his wife. His face was red. Mottled with anger or shame. Maybe both. His daughter, the one who wasn’t Fia, was on her knees absolutely looking like she had lost it.

But Cian wasn’t there.

Neither was Fia.

I stopped one of the passing guests. A young man who looked like he’d had too much champagne.

“Excuse me,” I said. Kept my voice pleasant. “Do you know where Alpha Cian went?”

He blinked at me. Processed the question slowly. “Oh. Yeah. He carried his mate out. They went to one of the guest rooms I think. The healer followed them.”

“Which direction?”

He pointed down the hall. “That way. Not too far from here.”

I thanked him and moved in the direction he’d indicated. The guest rooms weren’t far. There were several doors along this corridor. I checked each one quickly. Listened at the door for voices.

The third door was different. I could hear movement inside. The soft murmur of voices.

I knocked once. Then pushed the door open.

The scene inside made me pause.

Fia lay on the bed. Her body was too still. Too pale. A healer stood beside her, gathering supplies from a medical bag. And Cian sat in a chair pulled close to the bed. His hand wrapped around Fia’s. His shoulders were tense. His jaw was tight.

He looked up when I entered.

“Seems like I’m late to the ruckus.” I let a soft smile touch my lips. Tried to convey sympathy. Concern. “I heard what happened. Is she okay?”

“Yes.” His voice was rough. Strained. He cleared his throat. “Yes. She is.”

But he didn’t look convinced. He looked like he was barely holding himself together.

I moved closer. Took in Fia’s appearance more carefully. Her throat was bandaged but blood had soaked through the white cotton. It looked dark. Wet. Fresh.

The healer glanced at me but didn’t speak. She was focused on her work.

I looked at Fia’s face. She was unconscious. Her features were slack. Peaceful in a way that felt wrong given the blood and the bandages and the obvious trauma she’d just experienced.

“I can help,” I said.

Cian looked up. “What?”

I took another step toward the bed. “Her injuries. They won’t heal well on their own. She’s not a Sentinel. Not a Delta. Not a Luna by birth.” I gestured toward her throat. “There will be plenty of events in her future. High society functions. Gatherings where appearances matter whether we like it or not. Scarring tells a story. People will ask questions. They’ll stare. What she survived… it’s brave. But if we can avoid a scar, we should.”

The healer had paused in her work. She was looking at me now. Assessing.

“You’re good with healing magics?” she asked.

I nodded. “It’s rare and hard but yes. I’m good at performing healing magic. Not many can do it properly. But it would be a significant advantage for Luna Fia. For her comfort and confidence.”

The healer turned to Cian. “Alpha Cian, the witch is not wrong.”

Cian didn’t respond immediately. He looked at Fia. Really looked at her. His thumb brushed across her knuckles in a gesture so tender it made something twist in my chest.

Then he nodded. Looked at me. “Do it.”

I smiled, small and practiced, the kind that came automatically after years of being useful. Then I moved to the other side of the bed and reached for the bandage at Fia’s throat.

It was damp when my fingers touched it. Sticky. Warm. I peeled it back slowly, careful not to tug too hard, though the fabric still pulled away with a wet sound that turned my stomach despite myself. Blood had soaked through completely, the white long gone, and beneath it the wound gaped ugly and raw.

The cut was deep. Not clean. The edges were torn, as if whoever had done this had wanted it to hurt. Fresh blood welled up almost immediately and slipped down the side of her neck in a thin line.

I placed my hands on either side of the wound and let my fingers hover just above her skin. Close enough to feel her warmth, close enough to feel the tremor of her pulse. I took a breath and began to whisper the incantation.

The words were old. Older than most of what I used day to day. They came from somewhere buried deep, a place I did not like to visit too often. They sat heavy on my tongue, dense with intention, with weight. This was not decorative magic. This was work.

I felt the spell stir inside me, familiar and not at the same time. Power rose slowly, then all at once, flooding my chest and moving down my arms until it pooled in my hands. I guided it forward, into her flesh, into the torn places that needed mending.

That was when something pushed back.

At first it was subtle, just a faint resistance brushing against my magic, like running into a current you had not expected. I frowned but kept going, tightening my focus, assuming it would give way.

It did not.

The resistance grew sharper, more defined. It felt intentional, not like damaged tissue or lingering poison, but like something aware of me. A presence that noticed what I was doing and objected to it.

Pain flared behind my eyes, sudden and sharp, making my vision blur for a second. This was not physical resistance. It felt mental, invasive in a way that set my teeth on edge. Not violent, not chaotic, just there. Watching me. Measuring me.

I pushed harder.

I fed more magic into the spell, ignoring the throb in my head, refusing to let go now that I had started. The wound responded, slowly at first, then with that familiar sensation of flesh reaching for itself. Torn edges drew together. Skin knitted closed, smooth and seamless, like water filling a crack in stone.

The resistance never left. It stayed with me the entire time, coiled at the back of my mind, present and patient, as if it were waiting to see how far I would go.

Then it was over.

In less than a minute the wound was gone, the skin at her throat perfect and unmarked, as if nothing had ever touched her. I pulled my hands away and the pressure vanished instantly, the ache behind my eyes releasing so fast it left me lightheaded.

I stared down at Fia’s throat.

What was that?

I had healed hundreds of wounds in my life. On Cian. On pack members. On strangers. I had never felt anything like that, never encountered resistance that felt so deliberate, so specifically aimed at me.

Was it her?

Did Fia have some kind of innate protection, some instinctive defense against magic?

That made no sense. She was an Omega. They were not built that way.

Unless…

No. I shoved the thought aside before it could take root. This was not the moment. I needed to stay present, to stay useful, to play the role I had been given.

I looked up at Cian and let my smile return. “There,” I said lightly. “Much better, don’t you think?”

The way he looked at me made the smile falter.

He was staring, his blue eyes locked on me with an intensity that felt wrong, that raised the fine hairs along my arms. He did not look angry. He did not look relieved.

He looked afraid.

The realization hit me hard enough to tighten my chest. Afraid of me. I did not understand it. I had helped him. I had healed his mate. This was supposed to earn trust, gratitude, something even more solid between us.

Instead, he looked like he was deciding whether to run.

“Cian?” I kept my voice soft, gentle, careful. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

He blinked and the expression disappeared so quickly I almost convinced myself it had never been there.

“I’m fine,” he said. His voice was flat, stripped of warmth. “Thank you. For helping her.”

“Of course.” I let my smile brighten again, tried to wrap reassurance around it like silk. “I’m happy to help anytime. You know that.”

I did not know if he believed me.

And I did not know why he had looked at me like that.

Like I was dangerous.

Like I was something to fear.