To ruin an Omega Nov Chapter 389: Fancy Boring?

Chapter 389: Fancy Boring?

CIAN

There was no defiance in her tone. No need for it even.

For Madeline, this was her truth.

Valentine’s jaw tightened, sothing darker flickering behind his eyes, but he said nothing more, especially when we made eye contact.

Madeline held her gaze for a second longer before she turned away from him entirely as she took a few steps back.

The space between us shifted again. The air beca tense, but Valentine imdiately broke the silence.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For keeping your word."

I looked at him for a long mont.

"I wish I could say it makes

happy that I am letting you go. After all, the accusations that were against you are true. But we did make a deal, and you got , my uncle, back. So enjoy your clean slate. Go and sin no more."

Valentine’s lips curved into a faint smile.

"I am a changed man."

Madeline let out a sharp laugh.

It was bitter and humorless.

"A lie from the pit of hell," she said.

Valentine turned to look at her. His smile faded.

"Madeline—"

"You should get the files, or whatever it is Aldric has against you, from Ronan before he is beheaded," she said. Her voice was hard. "And hold it against my father whenever and anyti that you can to ensure people are safe. Or else I do not think he can start with a clean slate or even let our family enjoy so fucking peace."

Valentine’s jaw tightened.

"Madeline."

"Did I lie?"

She did not wait for an answer. She turned and walked toward the door without looking back.

Wilhelm hesitated for a mont. Then he followed her.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

That left Valentine and

alone in the hall.

The silence stretched between us. I could hear the sentinels and Oga still working in the background. The scrape of brushes against stone. The splash of water in buckets as well as mops.

Valentine broke the silence again.

"My daughter is in a heightened state at the mont."

"I disagree. Your daughter is a very smart woman, and I would be a fool not take her words seriously."

Valentine took in a deep breath. "Having a supre by your side that is not your enemy is the right call, especially with how fragile your politics could beco."

"I guess I have to take her parting words seriously then," I continued, my voice asured, not raised, not sharpened, but firm in a way that left little room for misinterpretation. "Aldric had you cornered with whatever he held over your head, and it worked well enough for him. There is no reason I cannot do the sa if it ever becos necessary."

Valentine’s composure did not break, but it shifted, subtly, almost imperceptibly, the kind of shift that only revealed itself in the tightening of his jaw and the way his shoulders squared as though bracing against sothing unseen.

"That would be a mistake," he said after a mont, though the conviction in his voice was not as absolute as it might have been before.

"Would it?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, not in mockery but in quiet consideration. "Because from where I stand, it seems like the only language you have ever responded to well."

He did not answer imdiately.

For a brief mont, sothing flickered across his expression, sothing caught between irritation and reluctant acknowledgnt, and then it was gone, buried beneath the sa controlled exterior he had worn since the beginning.

"You have my word," he said instead, choosing a different path, one that sounded cleaner and easier to accept. "I will not give you reason to act on such thoughts."

I let the silence stretch just long enough to make it clear that I was weighing that statent, not taking it at face value, not rejecting it either, but placing it exactly where it belonged, sowhere between possibility and doubt.

Then I nodded once.

"See that you don’t."

The look of shock on his face did not co from fear alone, but from the realization that I had said it plainly, without disguise, without softening it into sothing more polite.

For a man like Valentine, that mattered.

It ant I was not playing at civility.

I held his gaze, not pressing further, not repeating myself, because the implication had already settled where it needed to. He understood it. Whether he chose to accept it was sothing else entirely.

"Still," I added, my tone shifting just slightly. It was not soft, but it had beco less edged. "I am not like my uncle."

That got his attention.

"I will not move against you for the sake of control, or out of habit, or because I enjoy having sothing to hold over your head," I continued, eting his gaze directly so there would be no confusion about what I ant. "If I ever hurt you, it will be because you gave

reason to, because you chose to break the terms we agreed on."

The distinction mattered.

Not just for him, but for .

It was the line I intended to hold.

His eyes searched mine briefly, as if trying to asure whether I believed what I was saying or if this was simply another version of the sa ga played differently.

Whatever he found there seed to settle sothing, because his expression eased, not into comfort, but into acceptance.

"That is... fair," he said at last.

I gave a small nod, acknowledging the agreent for what it was.

"We are done here," I said, letting the finality of it rest in my voice.

There was no more to negotiate, nothing left unresolved that could be handled in this hall, with the scent of blood still clinging stubbornly to the stone despite every effort to wash it away.

I glanced past him briefly, taking in the quiet, the distant movent of those still working, the remnants of what had happened here, and the strange calm that had followed it.

"I have sowhere else to be," I added, turning my attention back to him. "My wife is waiting, and I intend to celebrate what I believe will be the beginning of a golden age of peace."

I then reached out and tapped his shoulder once. The gesture felt strange. Almost friendly. But it was the closest I could co to acknowledging what he had done for

without pretending we were anything other than what we were.

Two n who had used each other to achieve their own goals.

He inclined his head slightly.

"Congratulations on your victory, Alpha Cian."

I did not respond. I just turned and walked toward the door.

My hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

"For what it is worth, I do hope you get your golden age."

I looked back at him.

He was still standing in the center of the hall. Surrounded by blood stains and the remnants of violence. But his expression was sincere.

"So do I," I said.

Then I pulled the door open and stepped out into the corridor.

The air felt lighter out here. Cleaner.

I started walking toward the infirmary. My mind was already shifting focus. Moving past Valentine and Madeline and all the complicated politics that had brought us to this point.

Fia was waiting for .

My mother was safe.

Gabriel was alive.

Aldric was dead.

The traitors had been exposed and eliminated.

For the first ti in what felt like years, I could breathe without feeling the weight of a thousand threats pressing down on .

Then I continued toward the infirmary.

The door was already open when I arrived. I could hear voices inside. Maren’s low and steady. Thorne’s rougher.

I stepped through the doorway and stopped.

Fia was lying on one of the cots. Her eyes were closed. Her face was pale.

Maren stood beside her, checking her pulse. Thorne was nearby, adjusting a blanket over her.

"What happened?" I asked.

Maren looked up.

"She healed Gabriel. Completely. The goddess used her to do it, and it drained her."

I crossed the room quickly and stopped beside the cot.

Fia looked so small lying there. So fragile.

"Will she be alright?"

"Yes. She just needs rest. Her body will recover on its own."

I reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. My hand trembled slightly.

She was alright.

She was safe.

I looked over at the cot where Gabriel lay. He was apparently unconscious, but his breathing was deep and even. The color had returned to his face. The wound on his throat was completely gone.

"He is healed?" I asked.

"Completely," Maren said. "Whatever Fia did, it fixed everything. Years of damage undone in minutes. He was even awake a few minutes ago. But I guess he needed rest, too."

I felt sothing loosen in my chest.

Uncle Gabriel was going to be alright.

Fia was going to be alright.

My mother was already asleep in another cot nearby, resting peacefully.

Everyone I cared about was safe.

I pulled a chair over and sat down beside Fia’s bed. My hand found hers, and I laced our fingers together.

Her hand was warm.

I closed my eyes and just breathed.

It was over.

All of it.

The fighting. The bloodshed. The constant threat of betrayal and death hanging over everything.

It was finally over.