To ruin an Omega Nov Chapter 119: Fire Starter

Chapter 119: Fire Starter

ALDRIC

I made it to my quarters before the composure shattered.

The door clicked shut behind

and my hands went to the nearest shelf. I swept everything off in one motion. Books tumbled to the floor. The sound of them hitting was satisfying. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each one a punctuation mark to the rage building in my chest.

She had nothing. No recording. No proof. Nothing.

I had won.

So why did my hands shake?

I grabbed another stack of books and hurled them across the room. They hit the wall with a crash that echoed through the space. Papers scattered. One of the hardcovers left a dent in the plaster.

Good.

I turned to the wall next to my desk. Drew my fist back and slamd it forward. Pain exploded across my knuckles. The impact jarred up my arm but I pulled back and hit it again. Again. Again.

The skin split. Blood sared across the white paint. My knuckles scread but I didn’t stop. I needed to feel it. Needed sothing real and imdiate to anchor

because my thoughts were spiraling out in directions I couldn’t control.

That Oga bitch.

I hit the wall harder. More blood. The pain felt clean. Sharp. Better than the churning ss in my head.

She had nothing. I had made sure of it. Deleted the recording right in front of her face. Watched her realize she had lost. Watched the color drain from her cheeks and the fear bloom in her eyes.

So why did I feel like this?

A laugh bubbled up from sowhere deep in my chest. It ca out wrong. Too high. Too jagged. I couldn’t stop it. I laughed and laughed while blood dripped from my hand onto the floor.

Slow burn. That had been the plan. Subtle. Careful. Let her destroy herself through small mistakes. Let Cian see her for what she was over ti. A liar. A manipulator. Soone who couldn’t be trusted.

But I didn’t want that anymore.

I wanted her dead.

The word pulsed through my skull like a heartbeat. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Not ruined. Not discredited. Not quietly removed from the picture.

Dead.

I wanted to watch the life leave her eyes. I wanted to see her realize in her final monts that she had been nothing. That all her little sches and her stupid attempts at cleverness had amounted to exactly what they deserved.

Nothing.

My breathing ca too fast. I forced myself to slow it down. In. Out. In. Out.

Think.

How could I do it? How could I make sure she ended up in the ground without it tracing back to ?

The problem was Cian.

I hadn’t accounted for that. I hadn’t even seen it coming. My nephew was supposed to use her and discard her. Maybe keep her around as a convenient body if he was that down bad. A warm hole to fuck when he needed release. Nothing more.

But he had gone soft for her.

The stupidity... To go soft on her.

The word tasted like ash in my mouth.

Cian looked at her the way his father used to look at Morrigan. With sothing that bordered on tenderness. On care. On feelings that had no place in arrangents like theirs.

Variables were changing. Shifting faster than I could track them.

What else would change? What other pieces of my carefully constructed plan would fall apart because people refused to behave the way they were supposed to?

I had built an image over years. Decades. The supportive uncle. The wise advisor. The man who stepped in when Cian’s father died and made sure the boy beca the Alpha he needed to be for the ti being.

Surely Cian wouldn’t throw that away for so Oga’s ramblings.

Right?

I waited for the certainty to co. For that solid foundation of knowing that I had done enough and been enough and secured enough loyalty that nothing could shake it.

It didn’t co.

For the first ti in longer than I could rember, I didn’t have an answer.

The rage surged back. Hotter this ti. More violent. I spun toward the mirror mounted on the far wall and drove my fist into it. Glass exploded outward. Shards rained down. So embedded in my knuckles. I pulled back and punched again. The mirror spiderwebbed further. Blood mixed with glass and reflected light.

Again.

Again.

The pain was exquisite now. My hand was a mangled ss but I kept going. Kept destroying the image staring back at . That face. That smile I wore like armor. All of it needed to break.

The door burst open.

Footsteps rushed across the floor. Hands grabbed my arm and yanked it back before I could hit the mirror again.

"What are you doing?"

I tried to pull free. Whoever had grabbed

was strong. They held on tight and spun

around.

My other hand shot out. Fingers closed around a throat. Soft. Delicate. Regardless, I squeezed.

The person made a choking sound. Tried to pry my fingers away but I was stronger. Always stronger. I could crush this windpipe. Feel the cartilage give way beneath my grip. Watch them realize they were about to die.

"Dad."

The word cut through the red haze.

"It’s . Elara."

I blinked. Focused. My daughter’s face swam into view. Her eyes were wide. Scared. Her hands clawed at my wrist.

I let go.

She stumbled back. Gasped for air. One hand went to her throat. The skin there was already turning red. Finger-shaped marks blooming across her pale neck.

Horror crashed over . Cold and sharp. "Sweetheart." My voice ca out hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

Elara didn’t run. She never ran. Just like her mother that way. Stubborn. Fierce. She rushed back toward

and grabbed my destroyed hand. "What the fuck happened?" Her eyes darted from my bloody knuckles to the shattered mirror to the books scattered across the floor. "It’s that Oga bitch, isn’t it?"

"No baby."

"Don’t lie to , father." She looked up at . Fire burned in her gaze. So much like her mother. "I was there when she was throwing weird jabs at you during breakfast." Her grip on my hand tightened. "What did she say to you? Tell ."

An opportunity.

It opened up in front of

like a door I hadn’t known was there. My brilliant, impulsive, protective daughter standing in front of

asking how she could help.

I could use this.

"You know how Luna Morrigan coded."

Elara’s expression shifted. Understanding dawned. "Yeah."

"I suspected that Thorne took the fall for sothing he didn’t do." The lie ca easily. I had been telling stories for so long they felt more natural than truth. "I suspected it was actually Fia." I paused. Let that settle. "I might have been wrong."

"You weren’t wrong." Elara’s voice dropped lower. Harder.

"She made sure to let

know though." I pulled my hand free from hers gently. Looked at the damage. Glass glinted between torn skin. "Said now that she’s closer to Cian, she can spin any story she wants against ." I t my daughter’s eyes. "Said I better watch my mouth and my back."

"That conniving bitch."

I reached out and pulled Elara into my arms. Careful not to get blood on her dress. "Do not do anything."

She stiffened against . "But—"

"I’m telling you in confidence." I held her tighter. "She’s just rattled, I guess. An Oga with sudden power." I pulled back enough to look at her face. "It must be new. Addicting and scary. I understand that."

"I don’t." Elara’s jaw set in that stubborn line I knew so well. "Nobody fucks with my father." She pulled away from

completely. "I’ll deal with that bitch."

"Elara—"

But she was already moving. Already storming toward the door with purpose in every step.

The door slamd behind her.

I stood alone in the wreckage of my quarters. Blood dripped from my hand onto the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap.

My daughter would make Fia’s life hell. She had her mother’s temper and her mother’s inability to let slights go unanswered. She would be vicious. Creative. She would dig at Fia in ways that couldn’t be traced back to .

After all, she had always been this way.

It was the perfect distraction.

I needed that. Needed sothing to occupy Fia’s attention and energy while I prepared for the real play. The introduction of Madeline.

That performance would require my full focus. Every detail needed to be perfect. Every word. Every gesture. Every manufactured emotion.

I couldn’t afford any more variables spinning out of control.

I looked down at my mangled hand. Glass caught the light. Blood still oozed from the deeper cuts. I should clean it. Bandage it. Take care of the damage.

But not yet.

I wanted to feel it a little longer. Wanted the pain to remind

what was at stake.

That Oga thought she could outmaneuver . Thought she was clever enough to trap

with a recording and a few pointed questions.

She had no idea who she was dealing with.

I had survived worse than her. Had destroyed better than her. Had built an empire of influence and power on the backs of people who thought they could challenge .

They were all gone now.

She would be gone too.

I just needed to be patient. Needed to let the pieces fall into place. Let Elara do her damage. Let Cian’s attachnt fray under the weight of constant conflict. Let Fia realize that she had made an enemy she couldn’t defeat.

And when the mont ca, when everything aligned perfectly, I would strike.

Not with poison this ti. That had been too subtle. Too easy to miss or misattribute.

No. When I moved against her, it would be final. Absolute. There would be no coming back from it.

I walked to the window. Looked out at the grounds. Everything here was mine. The pack. The power. The legacy.

So Oga with delusions of grandeur wasn’t going to take that from . Neither was so pussy obsessed nephew.

I pressed my bloody hand against the glass. Left a perfect print there. Red and stark against the clear surface.

I let it stay. I let it remind .

This was war now.

And I always won my wars.