To ruin an Omega novel Chapter 325

Chapter 325: Tag, you’re it

FIA

The dining room was already full by the time we walked in, the kind of full that made you feel late even if you were not.

Aldric sat at the head of the table, spine straight, hands placed just so, his expression arranged into something that passed for calm if you did not know him well enough to recognize the effort behind it. Elara was beside him, shoulders slightly tucked in as if she could make herself smaller in the morning light pouring through the tall windows. Morrigan sat across from her, wrapped around a cup of something steaming, looking bright and alert in a way that felt unnatural for the early hour.

She saw us first.

Her gaze dragged slowly over me, paused at the shirt hanging off my shoulders, then returned to my face. The smile that followed was slow and deliberate, like she had already reached the end of a thought and found it amusing. 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

"Oh... I’m sure you had a good night," she said.

The heat rose before I could stop it. It crawled up my neck and spread across my cheeks in a way that felt almost visible, and I hated that I could not will it away. I opened my mouth with no plan at all, just the instinct to defend myself from something that had not even been said outright.

Cian beat me to it.

"Goddess mother, get your mind out of the gutter," he said lightly, already pulling out a chair for me as if the comment had not landed exactly where Morrigan had meant it to.

She laughed, low and pleased with herself. "What did I say?"

Nothing. That was the problem. She had said nothing at all and still managed to imply everything. I pressed my lips together and reached for the glass of water set at my place because I needed something to occupy my hands, something that did not involve swatting at invisible accusations in the air.

Before I could take more than a sip, the doors at the far end of the room opened again and Ronan walked in.

I did not look at him immediately. I let my gaze drift in that direction like it had somewhere else to be, like I had not noticed the shift in the air. He crossed the room with his usual easy confidence, eyes already mapping the table. For a second it looked as though he meant to sit beside Aldric. He slowed just a fraction, the change so subtle it would have slipped past anyone not watching for it. Then he adjusted course, moved two chairs down instead, and took his seat there, unfolding his napkin with careful precision, as if that had been the plan all along.

Maybe it had. I did not know anymore. I told myself it did not matter and reached for my water again.

The Omegas entered through the side door in a quiet, practiced line. They moved around the table with the kind of efficiency that made the whole thing seem seamless, setting down covered dishes and lifting the lids with gentle, synchronized movements.

The smell hit first.

Smoked salmon laid out in neat rows, the faint brine of it mingling with butter and herbs. Poached eggs resting in pale pools of sauce that gleamed under the light. Toasted brioche sliced thin and fanned beside small jars of preserve. Braised mushrooms, dark and glossy, scattered with herbs. A dish of something creamy and pale that carried the sharp, earthy scent of truffle.

It was indulgent in a way that did not need to announce itself. This was simply how things were done here.

One of the Omegas paused at the empty chair across from me. She glanced down at the plate in her hands, then at the seat, then toward the girl beside her. They hesitated just long enough for it to feel noticeable. Neither of them set the food down. They moved on without speaking, leaving the place setting untouched, the plate bare.

Aldric saw it.

He looked at that empty spot for longer than he looked at anything else that morning. Not staring, exactly, but not glancing either. Measuring. "Odd," he said at last.

Cian did not look up immediately. He had already started on his eggs, cutting into one with quiet concentration. "What is?"

"Madeline." Aldric set his fork down. The sound was soft, controlled. "She doesn’t usually miss breakfast."

Cian’s gaze shifted to the empty chair. There was something in the way he looked at it, something resigned, like he had been waiting for this moment since he sat down. Then he turned back to his plate and lifted his spoon again.

"Madeline won’t be joining us," he said.

The silence that followed was brief but dense.

"She found a place," he continued, breaking the surface of his egg and watching the yolk spill out in a slow golden line. "She decided to leave very early this morning. I was a little surprised myself, but." He paused, set the spoon down, picked it back up as though he needed the motion to anchor himself. "We had a bit of a scuffle."

No one interrupted him.

"After the delicate we hired was blinded, I thought of bringing Madeline in to help with the girl." His voice remained even, steady, almost detached. "She refused."

He took a bite, chewed slowly, swallowed.

"I think she’s going through something. It makes sense." His eyes skimmed over the table without settling anywhere. "She was ostracized from her coven because of me. I don’t blame her for carrying resentment."

He reached for the brioche, tore off a piece with deliberate care.

"Even I would. But I think that is what pushed her to not stay for long anymore."

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