To ruin an Omega

Chapter 95: A Donlon Affair 3

CIAN

I told the sentinels to take everything. Every jar. Every bottle. Every dried herb hanging from the ceiling. All of it. The shelves needed to be emptied. The cabinets stripped bare.

“And the floor,” I said. My voice sounded strange. Hollow. “Where the vial broke. Scrape up the wood. All of it.”

The sentinels moved quickly. They pulled bags from the vehicles. Started filling them with Ophelia’s inventory. Glass clinked against glass. The sound grated on my nerves.

Ronan stood beside me in the doorway. He watched the organized chaos inside. His jaw was tight.

“What do you want to do with all this?” he finally asked.

I pulled the napkin away from my face. The white cloth was soaked red now. More blood than fabric. I crumpled it in my fist.

“The witch didn’t make just one bottle,” I said. “There’s no way. She had to have backups. Notes. Something.”

Ronan turned to look at me. His expression was careful. “And?”

“Thorne might find something. Or Maren.” I gestured at the cottage. At the sentinels loading bag after bag. “If we give them all this to work with.”

“I don’t think that’s smart.”

The words hit wrong. Made my teeth clench. “What?”

“This is alchemy, isn’t it?” Ronan crossed his arms. “Magic made this mess. Magic has to be the thing that fixes it. You can’t put your mother’s life on the line with experiments.”

Something snapped inside me. The rage I’d been holding back surged up. Hot and overwhelming.

“What do you want me to do?” I screamed. The words tore from my throat. Raw. Desperate. “Tell me. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

Ronan didn’t flinch. He just stood there. Steady. His eyes met mine without wavering.

“I understand the pressure you’re in,” he said. His voice was calm. Too calm. “She’s your mother. But we will find another witch.”

I laughed. The sound was bitter. “What makes you think Gabriel hasn’t considered that?”

“Cian—”

“He must have known all the moves we would make.” I paced away from the door. Paced back. My boots left bloody prints in the dirt. “He must have chosen her for a reason. Ophelia. This specific witch.”

“We don’t know—”

“My fear is we will not get a fucking remedy.” The words came out hoarse. Broken. “That’s what keeps me up at night. That we’re too late. That my uncle planned this too well.”

Ronan stepped closer. He put his hand on my shoulder. The weight of it was grounding.

“We do not know that,” he said. “Listen to me. If that witch could be killed by magic and not even notice it coming, there must be a stronger witch out there. Someone better. More powerful.”

I wanted to believe him. Wanted to grab onto that hope and hold it tight.

“We will get someone,” Ronan continued. “I will get someone. As your Beta, I promise you.”

I closed my eyes. Saw Ophelia’s head exploding again. The spray of blood. The way her body crumpled. The vial falling. Breaking. Everything we needed soaking into the floorboards.

And that smell. That sweet smell that had filled the cottage before it happened.

“There was something familiar about the magic that was used,” I said as I opened my eyes and looked at Ronan. “The scent. I know I’ve smelled it before.”

Ronan frowned. “You’ve fought witches before. Perhaps Alpha Gabriel used one of them.”

Maybe. It made sense. Gabriel would use resources he already had access to. People he could trust to keep quiet.

I hummed in response. My mind turned it over. Tried to place that scent. But the memory wouldn’t surface completely.

One of the sentinels approached. Young guy. Face pale from what he’d seen inside. “We’re ready, Alpha.”

“Good. We should go.”

Ronan turned to walk toward the vehicles. I caught his shoulder and stopped him from walking.

“Get Tech here as soon as we get back,” I said quietly. “Maybe we can find the witch or warlock who did this. Track them somehow.”

“Of course.”

We entered the car. The engine started. The convoy began moving back through the forest. Away from the cottage. Away from Ophelia’s body.

I stared out the window. Watched the trees pass. My mind wouldn’t settle. It jumped from thought to thought. What to do next. Which witch or warlock to approach. There were some I could ask. Talented bloodlines existed. The favored children of Hekate. Bloodlines who had consumed a relic and gained power from it.

My mind went to the Blossom house.

I shook my head hard. Tried to clear the thought. But it was too late. Madeline came to my mind in vibrant color. Her laugh. The way she used to look at me. The way she left.

But if she was the only option I could trust, would I let my pride get in the way of saving my mother?

The question sat heavy in my chest. Pressed down on my lungs. Made it hard to breathe.

“Seems like we have a visitor,” Ronan said.

I looked up. Blinked. We were back in Skollrend already. I’d been too deep in thought to notice the drive. The familiar streets. The gates.

I recognized the car immediately. Black. Expensive. Parked near the main entrance to the estate.

We stopped. I got out before the vehicle had fully settled and walked toward the other car. My legs felt wooden. Disconnected.

A sentinel was helping with bags from the trunk. But when he saw me, he bowed quickly. “Alpha Cian.”

“I recognize you.” I looked at him. Then at the car. “Is Uncle really here?”

“Hey, kiddo.”

The voice came from behind me. Warm. Familiar. So I turned.

Uncle Aldric stood there with his arms spread wide. He looked the same as always. Tall. Broad shouldered. Gray streaking through his dark hair. Smile lines around his eyes. He wore casual clothes. Jeans and a button up shirt. Nothing fancy.

But there was something in his eyes. A sharpness. Like he was assessing me. Taking in my appearance.

I looked down at myself. I was still covered in blood. Ophelia’s blood. Most of it had dried now. It was stiff and dark on my clothes. My skin. My hair.

“Uncle Aldric.” The words came out flat. Tired.

He closed the distance between us and pulled me into a hug before I could protest that I was covered in witch guts. His arms were strong. Solid. The kind of embrace that used to make me feel safe when I was younger.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. Close to my ear. “You look like you went to war.”

“Something like that.”

He pulled back and held me at arm’s length while his eyes scanned my face. The blood. The exhaustion I knew was written there.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“Now’s not a good time.”

“When is it ever a good time?” He squeezed my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up first. Then we talk.”

Ronan approached. He nodded to Aldric. “Alpha Aldric. Good to see you.”

“Ronan.” Aldric returned the nod. “Take care of whatever needs taking care of. I’ve got him for a bit.”

Ronan looked at me. I gave a slight nod. He moved off toward the sentinels and started giving orders about the bags from Ophelia’s cottage. Where to take them. Who to get to start analyzing the contents.

Aldric put his hand on my back and guided me toward the estate entrance. We walked in silence. Through the doors. Down the familiar hallways. Servants and pack members we passed stared. Their eyes went wide at the blood covering me. But no one said anything.

We reached my quarters. Uncle pushed the door open and walked me inside like I was a child who needed guidance. I felt like it.

“Shower,” he said as he pointed toward the bathroom. “I’ll wait.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to say I didn’t have time for this. That every second mattered. That my mother was dying and I needed to figure out what to do next.

But my body moved on its own. Toward the bathroom. The blood on my skin felt wrong now. Oppressive. Like it was suffocating me.

I stripped. Turned the water on hot. Stepped under the spray. Watched Ophelia’s blood swirl down the drain. Pink at first. Then red. Then pink again as it diluted.

My hands shook. I pressed them against the tile wall. Let the water beat down on my back. On my head. Let it wash everything away.

But it couldn’t wash away the image burned into my mind. Ophelia’s head exploding. The vial falling. My only chance at saving my mother destroyed in a split second.

Gabriel was always one step ahead. Always knew what we would do. How we would react. Where we would go.

How was I supposed to fight that?

I don’t know how long I stood there. The water started to run cold before I finally turned it off. Dried myself. Found clean clothes in my closet. Pulled them on with numb fingers.

When I came out, Aldric was sitting in one of the drawers near the window. He looked relaxed. Comfortable. But his eyes were alert. Missing nothing.

“Better?” he asked.

“Not really.”

He gestured to the other chair. “Sit. Talk to me. What happened?”