To ruin an Omega-Chapter 406: King Lear and Cordelia 1

ALDRIC

I turned the corner and stopped.

The hallway stretched empty in both directions. Quiet. Exactly what I needed.

I unlocked Elara’s phone and pulled up the contacts.

My memory had always been sharp. Precise. Even now, wearing Gabriel’s weaker body, that part of me remained intact.

From memory alone, I keyed in the delicate’s handler’s number.

I had only dealt with him once. Briefly. Through intermediaries, mostly.

But I remembered his number.

I pressed call, and it rang twice before someone picked up.

"Hello?"

The voice was rough and just as cautious.

"Is this Mateo Ruiz?" I asked.

There was a pause at first, then the rough voice said, "Who is asking?"

"Someone who needs information," I said. "You handle a delicate. I hear she is strong."

There was another pause, and it was longer this time.

"Yes," he said finally. "But she is not in service now. She happens to be blinded and that, in some way, apparently made her abilities epileptic. We have other strong contender delicates if you need—"

"I will drop the act," I cut in.

My tone shifted. I barely had the time to play my usual games of feeling and fishing. I had to be harder and more direct.

"I scratch your back, and you scratch mine. Your delicate lies to you. She can see."

The silence that followed was taut as a stretched rubber hand waiting to pop when you least expected it to. Not me, though.

Then his voice came back sharper.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Your salvation," I said simply. I let that sit for a second before continuing forward. "Confirm it, and then you owe me one."

He let out a harsh breath.

"I do not believe you one bit."

"Then do not," I replied. "But assuming I am telling the truth, ask me what would I want in return?"

He hesitated. "What would you want?"

"I just want the delicate to answer the questions that I have. That is all."

The line went quiet again.

Then he spoke. His voice was tight now. He was trying his best to act above it and be controlled. He was none of those things. A weakling through and through.

"If this bitch..." He stopped mid-sentence. "Give me a minute."

I heard shuffling, followed by movement, and then voices in the background.

It sounded like arguing.

His voice rose. Sharp and angry. I could not make out the exact words, but the tone was clear.

Then I heard a woman scream.

"I am sorry!"

Her voice was high and quite panicked. Which told me that my gamble had paid off well.

"Oh, your goal was to keep pretending to be useless so you would be abandoned right? Right?"

Mateo’s voice came through clearer now. Loud enough that I could hear every word.

"Well, that is over. Take the phone and answer the man’s questions."

There was more shuffling, and it only ended when a different voice came on the line.

It was softer and shaking. "Hello."

I smiled.

"Hello, delicate."

She did not respond.

"What you did was not very kind," I continued. "And I must assure you that you picked the wrong side to side with because it is only hell from here for you."

I paused.

"But I can help you. I can alleviate your suffering. But you need to give me what I need."

Her breathing came through the speaker. Uneven and frightened.

"Who are you?" she asked. "And what do you need?"

"When your services were asked of in Skollrend, what did you see?"

She hesitated.

"I..."

"And please do not lie to me, or we are done here, and you can go back to living your personal hell."

She let out a shaky breath.

"I saw a woman, and it blinded me as I said."

I frowned.

"We paid you extra in regards to checking what happened at the scene of the accident. Concerning a certain blue light."

The pause that followed was wickedly empty. I had her right where I wanted.

"I did not see much. I was blinded when I tried to look into the woman who did it. All I saw was a..."

She stopped.

My jaw tightened. "What?"

"I am not sure. What I saw was a dungeon and a man."

A man?

"What does that have to do with the assassin?" I asked.

"I do not know. Memories are hard to take in."

I forced myself to stay calm.

"What was she? You should know that much."

"I do not know."

My grip on the phone tightened.

"You are giving me nothing."

"I know she was not a witch," she said quickly. "But I do not know. I swear."

I took a slow breath.

"Why did you hide the fact that she healed you? Fia. That is."

She went quiet.

Then softly she said, "Because she asked me to."

I did not quite believe her.

"Did you get anything from the Omega herself? Healing you meant she touched you. What did you see?"

I leaned against the wall.

"And before you lie to protect a stranger, think about yourself first. Because I know a little something, and your truth had better match that little something."

She exhaled shakily.

"It was vague. A memory in a memory. It was a dungeon, and someone... someone with her likeness was being experimented on by the man. The man I saw in the assassin’s own memories."

I straightened.

"What?"

My mind raced.

"And this man. Do you by chance know who it is?"

"No."

I let out a harsh breath.

"Oh, really. Another lie?"

"No... Wait..."

She paused.

"I remember. I have plenty of work opportunities, and all memories blend into a big mess. But I remember... I remember!"

"Speak it."

"Va.... Va... Valentine."

The name landed exactly where I needed it to.

I laughed.

It came out sharp and satisfied.

"Ha."

Perfect.

That confirmed my theory completely. Enough to build a case at least.

"Thank you," I said. "You have been useful."

Her voice came back immediately. Desperate and frayed, like something tearing apart at the seams.

"Now keep your word. Help me. I cannot stay here."

I tilted my head slightly. "In what world does that seem fair? You are partly the reason I am in hell myself."

It became so silent you could almost hear a pin drop.

Then her voice broke.

"No. You promised! You lying bastard!!!"

I ended the call.

The screen went dark.

I stared at it for a moment. Then I opened the call log and deleted the entry.

That was how it was supposed to be now. Clean and simple with no trace back to me. Then I called a random number and let that one sit in.

I turned and walked back toward where I had left Elara.

She was still sitting against the wall. Her head was tilted back now. Staring at the ceiling.

I stopped in front of her and held out the phone.

"Thank you."

She looked up. Then reached out and took it from my hand without a word.

I glanced toward the window at the end of the hall.

The light outside was fading. The sky had gone from gold to deep orange. Soon it would be completely dark.

"It is getting late," I said. "So... goodnight."

She nodded slowly.

"Goodnight."

I turned and walked away.

My mind was already moving ahead. Sorting through what I had just learned. Cataloging it. Filing it away.

Valentine had experimented on someone with Fia’s likeness.

That meant Fia was connected to his work. Either directly or through family.

Either way, it gave me exactly what I needed.

Proof.

Or at least the foundation for proof.

The rest I could build, and goddess, I was a good builder.

I reached the guest wing and found an empty room. The door was unlocked. So I pushed it open and stepped inside.

The space was simple, just a bed, a dresser, and a small window that looked out onto the courtyard.

I closed the door behind me, slid the lock into place, and let the quiet settle.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the bed.

It was solid, a heavy wooden frame that looked like it had been built to stay exactly where it was, but I knew better.

I stepped forward, braced my hands against the edge, and pulled.

The legs dragged across the floor with a harsh scrape that cut through the silence.

I winced at the sound but kept going. Dragging it away from the wall until there was enough space to see what was underneath.

A rug lay across the floor, plain and unremarkable, the kind of thing people stepped over without a second thought.

I knelt and rolled it back.

The stone beneath was smooth, almost polished, clean in a way that felt deliberate.

All except for one section.

There, just off-center, was a small latch, easy to miss unless you already knew it was there.

I slipped my fingers under it and pulled.

The panel lifted with a low, reluctant shift of stone.

Darkness waited beneath.

So also, a passage.

This was the same passage built years ago, one of several that ran beneath the estate, linking rooms through secret routes and hidden paths that let you move without being seen.

I lowered myself into the opening, my feet finding the smooth surface almost at once.

There was no ladder, only polished stone slanting steeply downward.

A slide, if you would.

I let go.

Gravity took me immediately, pulling me down faster than I expected as the walls blurred on either side and cool air rushed hard against my face.

By the time the slope began to level, I was already bracing myself.

I came to a stop at the bottom, steadying my balance before straightening.

Then I looked around.

The passage stretched in both directions, narrow and dark, lit only by faint cracks of light filtering down from above.

I turned left and started walking, my footsteps echoing softly as the sound carried farther than it should have.

The air was colder down here, damp against my skin, thick with the smell of earth and old stone.

At the first junction, I turned right, then left again without slowing.

The layout was still clear in my mind, every twist and turn fixed in place from years of use.

I had walked these paths more times than I could count.

The section I needed came into view soon enough, marked by a narrow shaft that led upward.

I reached for the wall and began to climb.

The handholds were rough and uneven, forcing my fingers to grip tight as I pulled myself higher, careful not to slip.

At the top, I felt the edge of the panel.

I pushed against it slowly, just enough to open a narrow gap.

Muted light spilled through the dark.

Ronan’s chambers.