To ruin an Omega

Chapter 471: Haven 2

FIA

"Even Hazel is here," he said, mentioning her name as if it should matter to me. Like that alone should be enough to make me drop everything and come running. "She’s an Omega now, and she still showed up."

The words hit like a slap. I closed my eyes and counted to three before I trusted myself to speak.

"Isabel is not my mother." Each word came out measured and as controlled as I could muster. "She has never acted like one my whole life. Isabel is Hazel’s mother, so of course Hazel showed up for her."

I drew a breath that burned in my chest.

"If I don’t forget, you also fucking disowned me because I didn’t let Hazel get away with her bullshit." The fury I’d tamped down rose hot and bitter in my throat. "Am I your daughter again?"

Silence stretched between us. Long enough that I wondered if he’d hung up.

"You know I didn’t mean it." His voice had dropped quieter. Something that might have passed for regret in another man. "I was mad at you. For not sacrificing."

The word sacrifice hung in the air like rot. I bit back the worst retort, clawing its way up my throat, and forced myself to speak evenly.

"No." My voice shook despite my best efforts. "That was not a sacrifice. Because you would have never let me get away with it if the positions were swapped."

Another pause came. It was longer this time.

"I know." The admission came rough and halting. "I know. But... I’ve had time to reflect, and I know you’re not lying."

I waited. My knuckles had gone white where they gripped the counter.

"I did dread calling you," he continued, "because I know I don’t deserve it."

My chest tightened. I wanted to hang up. To throw the phone into the tub and watch it sink. But something kept me rooted in place, listening to the man who’d partially raised me stumble through an apology he should have made years ago.

"The Isabel topic was just an icebreaker," he added.

"Yeah." The word came out flat. "It was a hell of an icebreaker. Really laid the groundwork for an easier conversation."

"I’m sorry."

Two words. Two simple words that still managed to be worthless because it came without action behind them.

"It’s just that... today, I’ve been thinking." His voice wavered in a way I’d never heard before. "Heat season is close, and I was at your mother’s grave. Perhaps I was a bit harsh with you. Hazel did trick you. Yet I stood by her. I never afforded you grace, and I just don’t know why. Because I loved—"

"No." I cut him off before he could finish. The lie would have choked me if I’d let him speak it. "No, you did not love me or her. So forget that."

My throat constricted. The truth tasted bitter, but it needed to be said.

"You tolerated me. And you tolerated her. Because I was your daughter and she was your mate. You were still ashamed of us, however. Two Omegas who made life difficult for you." I laughed, sharp and humorless. "You had your white picket fence family you could show to the world, no matter how small you really were with that pride."

"I don’t want to fight you, Fia." His voice carried a weariness that sounded genuine. "I do want to make amends. Your sister helped me today to really put myself out there, and I don’t regret it. I don’t regret this call. I know you’re simmering in rage right now. But give your old man a chance."

I pressed my forehead against the cool mirror above the sink. My reflection stared back, my eyes had turned dark and hollow.

"Hazel wants this to work," he continued. "I do as well. I’m sure Isabel does too. She’s just grieving heavy right now."

The pieces clicked together. I straightened, pulling away from the mirror.

"So Hazel was the catalyst for this call."

"I know that will make you mad." He spoke quickly, like he could outrun my anger if he just kept talking. "But she’s been with Lily of the Valley, and she’s fallen from that high horse of hers. She’s not the same person anymore."

I stared at my reflection. At the woman who’d learned to survive without a father’s love. Who’d built herself into something strong enough to stand alone.

"Amends." I let the word sit between us. "That’s what you want? For us to love and forgive each other?"

"Yes."

The answer came immediate and fervent.

"Okay." I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. "Hazel has paid, so I can let go and forgive her."

I paused, letting the weight of what came next settle in my bones.

"But Isabel..." My voice hardened. "Isabel killed my mother. If I am to let go and forgive, I want her to confess those sins in the elder’s circle."

"Fia..." My father’s voice went tight. It sounded like a warning.

"What?" I challenged. "Too much? Or you still do not believe thw words that leave my mouth?"

"The past is in the past." He spoke carefully now, each word chosen with deliberation. "I have to take blame for what happened then. I was the reason for the competition. But... Fia... Muna would have died regardless. She was sick."

The words hit like a physical blow. My vision blurred at the edges, red creeping in from the sides.

"I fixed her." My voice came out strangled and raw. "But your defense has told me enough."

I pulled the phone away from my ear.

"Have a good day, Alpha Joseph."

I ended the call before he could respond. Before he could make more excuses. Before I said something that would shatter whatever fragile pieces of me still remembered what it felt like to be his daughter and in that house.

The phone clattered onto the counter. I braced both hands against the marble and let my head drop forward, breathing hard through my nose. The anger coursed through me in waves, hot and consuming. It burned in my chest, climbed up my throat, pressed behind my eyes.

I wanted to scream. To throw something. To run until my legs gave out and the fury finally burned itself clean.

Instead, I stood there. Trembling. Fighting for control over the storm raging inside me.

A soft clink came from the bedroom. It was from the restraints.

From Cian.

I had forgotten for a hot second that I’d left him tied to the bed while I took this call. While I let my father tear open wounds I’d thought were finally starting to heal.

I grabbed the phone and walked back into the bedroom. The red walls felt too bright now. Too warm. Everything that had seemed exciting and playful before now pressed in on me, suffocating.

Cian watched me from the bed. His wrists were still bound to the headboard, but all the heat and desire from before had drained from his expression. Now he just looked concerned. Worried in a way that made my chest ache.

"What did he say?" His voice came gentle.

I crossed to the bed and climbed up beside him. My hands shook as I reached for the restraints, but I left them fastened. Instead, I curled against his side, pressing my face into the curve of his neck and shoulder.

His scent wrapped around me. Pine, earth and something wild that belonged only to him. The bond pulsed between us, offering comfort I desperately needed.

"Nothing relevant," I whispered against his skin.

My throat closed around the lie. Everything my father had said mattered. It all hurt. But I couldn’t speak the words yet. I couldn’t give them more power by letting them out into the air between us.

Cian’s frustration bled through the bond. He wanted to hold me. To wrap his arms around me and make the world go away. But the restraints kept him pinned, helpless to do anything except lie there while I fell apart against him.

"Fia." My name came rough. "Let me hold you."

I reached up and undid the restraints with trembling fingers. The leather fell away, and immediately his arms came around me, strong and sure. He rolled us so I was tucked against his chest, surrounded by his warmth and his scent and the steady beat of his heart.

"I’ve got you," he murmured into my hair. "Whatever it was, I’ve got you."

I closed my eyes and let myself break. Just a little. Just enough to release the pressure building behind my ribs before it cracked me open completely.

The tears came silent and hot, soaking into Cian’s shirt. He held me through it, one hand stroking my hair, the other pressed firm against my back. The bond thrummed between us, carrying his fierce protectiveness and unwavering support.

I didn’t tell him about the call. About my father’s weak apology or his weaker defense of the woman who’d poisoned my mother. About Hazel playing peacemaker after a short stint at her golden cage at Lily of the Valley.

I just held onto him and let him hold me back, grateful for the one person in my life who’d never asked me to be smaller than I was.

Eventually, the tears stopped. My breathing evened out. The anger settled into something colder and harder in my chest, but at least it had stopped trying to claw its way out of my throat.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Cian pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Always."