To ruin an Omega novel Chapter 415

Chapter 415: To wear a man

FIA

I watched Gabriel’s expression shift.

The conviction that had been there seconds ago when he pressed the fork toward his throat dissolved into something calmer. Saner. His breathing evened out, and when he spoke again, his voice had lost that frantic edge.

"I’m sorry," he said, lowering his hand from where it had frozen mid-air. "I don’t know what came over me. I guess... My mental health is still in a very bad place, I think."

The fork clattered against the table.

Morrigan moved closer, her hand hovering near his shoulder but not quite touching. "Gabriel, that was—"

"Terrifying," he finished for her. "I know. I’m sorry for scaring you both."

I studied his face.

His words before had been muddled. Panicked. Like someone drowning and trying to scream for help, with water already filling their lungs. But now he sounded reasonable. Almost clinical in the way he described his own mental state.

Underneath it all, though, I felt something else.

A simmering rage that pulsed just beneath the surface of his skin. It felt familiar in a way I couldn’t place, like a scent I’d caught once in passing and never quite forgotten.

I turned to Morrigan. She was nodding along with whatever Gabriel was saying now, her expression softening into sympathy.

"This feels wrong," I said.

Both of them looked at me.

Gabriel put his head down, his elbows bracing against the table. "I know. I know it does."

He covered his face with his hands, and when he spoke again, his voice came out muffled. "I still get haunted by my brother. I didn’t think it was that bad. But it is."

My chest tightened.

The unease didn’t lift. If anything, it dug deeper, settling into my bones like ice that wouldn’t melt no matter how much warmth I tried to pour over it.

"You knew about the delicate?" I asked.

His hands dropped slightly, just enough for me to see his eyes. They were red-rimmed, tired, but something in them sharpened when I said the word.

"Yes," he said. "When I was in my cell, Aldric mentioned it. He talked about a lot of things while I was locked up. He planned to use the girl to figure you out... I believe."

I reached across the table before I could second-guess myself. My hand closed over his, and I squeezed gently.

It looked like an act of kindness. Comfort for a man who had been through hell and was still crawling his way out of it.

But inside, I prayed.

I prayed to the goddess with every fiber of my being to show me something. Anything. To alleviate this sickly feeling that had lodged itself in my chest the moment Gabriel looked directly at me and said you’re going to die.

I wanted a vision. Sure, it had only happened once. But I needed one.

Because I didn’t know why my heart and mind were suddenly turning against someone who should have been safe. Someone who was family.

Nothing came.

No flash of insight. No sudden clarity.

Just the feel of his pulse beneath my fingers, steady and strong.

"What about the letters?" I asked, keeping my voice light. "What could that be about?"

He looked up, and for a split second, I saw something cross his face.

Death.

Cold and absolute and utterly devoid of mercy.

But then it was gone, smoothed over so quickly I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it.

"I don’t know," he said. "It just came from some buried trauma, I think."

I rubbed my thumb over the back of his hand. "What triggered it? Just now, I mean."

His gaze flicked to the fork still lying on the table.

"The knife and the fork, I believe," he said quietly. "I had self-harm thoughts while I was in his prison."

I looked down at his hands. At his wrists where the sleeves of his shirt had ridden up slightly.

There were no scars.

Not a single mark.

My fingers shifted, pressing more firmly against the inside of his wrist, feeling for his pulse again. It beat strongly and even beneath my touch, no irregularity, no sign of distress.

"And the people he killed too," I said.

His pulse spiked. then

It was brief but unmistakable. A sudden jump that made my own heart stutter in response.

"Who?" I pressed.

Grand Luna Morrigan’s voice cut in before he could answer. "Fia, maybe we should get him to the infirmary."

Gabriel’s head snapped toward her so fast it should have given him whiplash.

"I agree," he said immediately. "I feel strange."

I hesitated.

Maybe I was overthinking this. He would have seen Aldric write letters, wouldn’t he? He’d been imprisoned by the man for years. He would have witnessed things. Heard things. Maybe even seen Aldric hurt people.

Maybe.

But he’d said killed someone. And he’d added his own before cutting himself off mid-sentence.

His own what?

I didn’t press.

"Right," I said slowly. "The infirmary."

I stood and moved around the table to help him up. Morrigan joined me on his other side, and together we guided him to his feet. He swayed slightly, and I put my hand on his back to steady him.

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