To ruin an Omega - Chapter 407: King Lear and Cordelia 2

Chapter 407: King Lear and Cordelia 2

ALDRIC

The room beyond was dark and still.

Empty.

Good.

I eased the panel open the rest of the way and pulled myself up, the cold floor meeting my feet as I stepped into the room.

For a moment, I just stood there, letting my eyes adjust.

Nothing had changed.

The bed was unmade, sheets twisted as if he had left in a hurry. Clothes hung loosely over a chair. A glass of water sat untouched on the nightstand.

It felt like he might walk back in at any moment.

I moved to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer.

There were shirts there, folded neatly and pressed.

I reached in, took one, and ran the fabric between my fingers.

It was soft and clean but had been used repeatedly.

It would do.

I folded it again and tucked it under my arm before turning back toward the hidden panel.

Lowering myself down, I pulled it closed above me and dropped back into the shaft, descending carefully until my feet found the passage floor.

Darkness stretched ahead once more.

I started walking.

My mind had already moved on.

I needed a witch, someone discreet, someone who would not ask questions, someone capable of a spirit summoning.

Ronan was dead and would have already been shamefully buried already.

But that didn’t mean he was gone.

Spirits held on to things. Knowledge, memories, the kind of information the living could no longer reach.

If I could summon him, I could make him talk.

And if he talked, I would find what I was looking for.

His own fleshcraft files.

The leverage I needed against Valentine, Pauline and Fia.

Without those files, my case was built on testimony alone… On the word of a dodgy delicate who had seen fragments and most of all, on my own accusations.

That might be enough.

But it would not be certain.

The files would make it certain.

They would give me proof. Concrete. Undeniable.

And once I had that, I could move.

I could go to the supernatural council. To the royal family.

I could expose Valentine. Pauline. Fia.

All of them.

At once.

And watch everything Cian had built crumble around him.

When I reached the main passage again, I slowed to a stop, letting my thoughts catch up with me as the silence settled in.

There were several witches I knew, some I had worked with before and others whose reputations alone were enough to make them options, but most of them were too visible, too connected, and far too likely to talk if the wrong pressure was applied.

That ruled them out almost immediately.

Still, one name remained.

A hedge witch, independent and deliberately removed from coven politics, living far beyond the edges of Skollrend territory in a small cabin near the forest where few people had reason to go.

I had gone to her once, years ago, for something minor that barely warranted the effort, yet she had handled it with a level of efficiency and discretion that had stayed with me.

She had not asked questions.

She had not spoken more than necessary.

She would work.

With that settled, I started forward again, my pace steady as the passage carried me toward the outer sections of the estate, where the tunnels thinned out and connected to the service entrances used by staff who were never meant to be seen.

Another shaft came into view, and I climbed it without hesitation, pushing open the panel at the top with practiced care.

It opened into a storage room.

Empty, as expected.

I pulled myself out, closed the panel behind me, and crossed the room in a few quiet steps before reaching for the door.

It gave way easily beneath my hand.

Beyond it, the hallway stretched out in stillness, undisturbed and silent in a way that made everything feel momentarily suspended.

I stepped into it and kept walking, neither hurried nor cautious, because there was no need for either.

No one stopped me.

No one questioned me.

I was Gabriel now, and that alone was enough.

Trusted, believed, welcomed back without resistance.

A victim returned.

I could move freely now, and the absence of resistance felt almost unreal as I crossed the remaining distance to the main entrance and pushed through the doors without hesitation.

The night air met me immediately, cool and sharp against my skin, filling my lungs as I stepped outside and let it steady me.

For a moment, I just breathed it in.

Then I started forward, my path already set as I moved toward the edge of the grounds, toward the forest waiting beyond, toward the witch who would make the rest of this possible.

The shirt tucked under my arm felt heavier than it should have, not because of its weight, but because of what it meant and what it would allow me to do.

It was worth it.

Ronan’s spirit would tell me what I needed to know, and once he did, there would be nothing left out of reach.

The files, the proof, the leverage, all of it would fall into place exactly as I needed.

Everything.

Everything I needed to burn them all.

A smile found its way onto my face as I walked, slow and certain, because for the first time since this began, I could see the shape of what came next.

The game wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.

I reached the training grounds and slowed to a stop at the edge, where the open stretch of land gave way to the forest beyond.

It loomed ahead, dark and dense, the trees packed tightly enough to swallow most of the moonlight before it could touch the ground.

Somewhere in there, Mourning Moon had taken root.

Cian had made sure of it, planting it himself and letting it spread through sections of the woods until entire paths became inaccessible to anyone who did not know how to move through it.

I did.

Or at least, I knew enough.

That was all I needed.

I adjusted the shirt tucked beneath my arm, securing my grip before stepping forward.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

“Alpha Gabriel?”

I stopped.

The voice was female. Young too and too familiar.

For a brief moment, everything in me stilled before I turned, slow and deliberate, already shifting my posture as my arm moved instinctively, angling the shirt further out of sight.

Elara stood a few feet away.

She was dressed for training, loose pants and a fitted shirt, her hair pulled back in a way that left her face fully visible beneath the muted glow of the night.

I blinked once, more out of reflex than surprise.

What was she doing here? What was she dressed for?

“Oh,” I said, letting the word come lightly as if I had not expected to see anyone at all. “Elara. You are not asleep.”

She shook her head.

“I wanted to shift,” she said. “To get my mind off things.”

I nodded, easing my expression into something that passed for understanding.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Me too.”

She stepped closer.

Not enough to crowd me, but enough that I could feel the shift in her attention as her eyes flicked, quick and precise, to my arm, to the way I was holding it, before lifting back to my face.

She had noticed.

Of course she had.

“I also wanted to ask,” she said, her voice slower now, more careful. “Is there a reason you called me Ela?”

The question settled between us.

My chest tightened, not from panic, but from the sharp awareness of a mistake I had not even realized I made.

The name had slipped out too easily.

A habit that was not supposed to belong to me.

I let a brief pause stretch, just enough to seem thoughtful rather than caught, before tilting my head slightly.

“Ah,” I said. “Your father used to call you that, didn’t he?”

She nodded.

“Yeah. He did.”

A faint crease formed between her brows.

“It was just… strange hearing you of all people say it.”

I gave a small shrug, keeping it easy, almost dismissive.

“I must have picked it up from him,” I said. “He kept me locked up long enough. Some things were bound to stick.”

Her expression softened at that, the tension easing just enough to make the lie believable.

“I guess that makes sense.”

For a moment, it seemed like that would be the end of it.

Then she paused.

And I saw it happen.

The shift.

Her gaze sharpened again, the softness draining out of it as something more deliberate took its place.

“What about my password?” she asked.

This time, I did not have the luxury of a delayed reaction.

My eyes flicked to hers, sharper than before, the movement brief but impossible to take back.

“How did you guess that?”