To ruin an Omega

Chapter 85: Sprinkle Sprinkle

CIAN

The study door opened. No knock. Just the sound of wood scraping against frame and then Ronan walked in waving a phone like he was holding a trophy.

I looked up from the cupcake. My eyes tracked the device in his hand. Black. Standard issue. Nothing special about it from the outside.

“Got what you asked for,” Ronan said. He crossed the room in three strides and placed the phone on my desk. Right next to the cupcake.

I picked it up. Turned it over in my hands. The screen was dark. The case was worn at the edges. The evil witch had used this phone a lot. Carried it everywhere.

“Did you check it out?” I asked.

“It was passworded,” Ronan said. He leaned against the desk. Arms crossed. “Could not get in without risking a wipe.”

I nodded. That made sense. Anyone smart enough to be a traitor would be smart enough to lock their device.

“To technical it is.”

I stood. Pushed my chair back. The wheels scraped against the floor.

That was when Ronan’s hand came down on my shoulder. It was not a hard push. It was just firm enough to stop me.

“So,” he said. His voice had that edge to it. The one that meant he was about to say something I did not want to hear. “Are you flipped now or something?”

I brushed his hand off.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“You forced me to find something for the girl,” he said. He was not looking at me now. He was looking at the cupcake. At the pink frosting and white sprinkles. “I heard you shared beds twice now. Surely you would know that it would become a silent topic of conversation.”

My jaw tightened.

“Nothing like that is going on,” I said. Each word came out measured. Controlled. “I sent you to Silver Creek because I wanted to know if she was being honest about the claim she made. Which she was. And nothing happened. Neither will it happen just because we share beds. I can control myself.”

Ronan was quiet for a moment. He pushed off from the desk and turned to face me fully.

“You know it would not be a bad thing,” he said. “If you were, you know, flipped.”

I stared at him.

“It would be a good thing actually,” he continued. “People have been worried about you, Cian. Years without anyone. Years of just work and duty and nothing else. If you found someone, if you let yourself feel something again, that would be—”

“Can we please end this,” I cut in. My voice was harder now. Sharper. “There are more pressing conversations we should be having. Like spies in the pack.”

Ronan held my gaze for another beat. Then he sighed.

“We will just have them swear an oath again,” he said. “The dishonest one will be outed.”

“Maren said the same thing,” I said.

“Well, she is right.”

I picked up the phone again. Looked at the dark screen. At my reflection staring back at me.

“But maybe this device can let us find that fucker Gabriel and end this once and for all,” I said.

“I agree,” Ronan said. His tone had shifted. Back to business. Back to the work that mattered.

We left the study together. The hallways were quiet. Most of the pack was asleep by now. Only sentinels remained awake. Standing at their posts. Watching the shadows.

Technical was still lit when we walked in. The same three technicians from earlier were still at their stations. Roth looked up when we entered. His glasses had slid down his nose again.

“Alpha,” he said. “Beta.”

I crossed the room and placed the phone on the table in front of him.

“This device belonged to Bo,” I said. “She was one of them. She was a traitor.”

Roth picked up the phone. Turned it over in his hands the same way I had.

“But it is passworded,” I continued. “And I want to know everything that you can dig.”

“Understood,” Roth said. He plugged the phone into his computer. The screen lit up. Lines of code began scrolling across his monitor.

The red haired woman leaned over to help. Her fingers flew across her keyboard. The younger technician pulled up another window on the main screen.

I stood behind them. Watching. My arms crossed over my chest. Ronan stood next to me. His posture was relaxed but his eyes were sharp. Focused.

Minutes passed. The technicians worked in silence. Only the sound of typing filled the room. Rapid fire clicks. The hum of computers running hot.

“Got access,” the red haired woman said finally. “Bypassed the lock.”

The phone’s home screen appeared on the main monitor. Apps lined the display in neat rows. There was nothing unusual. Nothing that screamed traitor at first glance.

“Pull everything,” I said. “Financial history. Messages. Call logs. All of it.”

They got to work.

More minutes passed. Data started populating across the screens. Bank statements. Transaction records. Lists of contacts.

“Financial history is clean,” Roth said. He scrolled through the records. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Standard purchases. Normal spending patterns.”

I watched the numbers scroll past. Grocery stores. Gas stations. Coffee shops. All normal.

“Wait,” the younger technician said. He leaned closer to his screen. “There is something here.”

“Talk,” I said.

“She patronized someone,” he said. He pulled up the transaction on the main screen. “Multiple times over the past six months.”

The name appeared.

Ophelia Cottonwood.

My hands clenched into fists.

“I was filled in. That is the witch, right?” Ronan said. His voice was low. Dangerous.

“The same one Kayden paid,” I said. “She is connected to both of them.”

The red haired woman was already moving. Her fingers typed faster. Pulling up more information. Cross referencing data.

“Checking contacts now,” she said.

The main screen shifted. A list of names and numbers appeared. Most of them were pack members. People I recognized. But two names stood out.

“She has been talking singularly to two people a lot,” Roth said. He highlighted the names. “One is Kayden.”

I already knew that. Expected that. But the second name made my blood run cold.

“The other is,” Roth paused. His face went pale. “Alpha Aldric.”

The room went silent.

I stared at the screen. At that name. At the letters that spelled out my uncle’s title and name. The man who had stood beside my mother. Who had helped raise me after my father died. Who had been like a second father to me.

“What?” The word came out broken. Strangled. “That is not possible.”

Ronan stepped closer to the screen. His eyes were wide.

“There has to be a mistake,” he said. “Check it. Check it again.”

One of the technicians was already typing. His hands moved so fast they blurred.

“There was a name change a year back,” he said. His voice was tight. Controlled. “It was originally Alpha Gabriel.”

The other technician was working her own keyboard now. Pulling up different records.

“I checked the number,” she said. “It belongs to Gabriel Donlon.”

The relief that flooded through me was sharp and immediate. My legs felt weak for a moment. My uncle was not a traitor. Gabriel had just tried to frame him.

“They are playing mental games too,” I said. My voice came out rough. Angry. “Did they really think we would buy that hook line and sinker and go with it?”

Ronan let out a breath beside me. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I know Uncle Aldric,” I continued. “He would never. He has been loyal since before I was born.”

But the anger was building now. Hot and vicious. Gabriel had tried to frame his own brother. Had tried to make me doubt someone I trusted. Someone who had been there for me through everything.

“Can you track the number somehow?” I asked.

“The last call was yesterday,” Roth said. His fingers were already moving. “So we can try.”

They worked. All three of them. Typing and clicking and pulling up screens I could not begin to understand. Code scrolled past. Maps appeared. Numbers flashed.

“He is transmitting himself to thirty different places,” the red haired woman said after several minutes. “Changing every ten seconds.”

“So we cannot find anything,” I said. It was not a question. I already knew the answer.

“We will keep checking,” Roth said. “But right now, no. We cannot pin down his location.”

I swore. The word came out harsh and ugly. My fist slammed down on the table. The phones in their evidence bags jumped.

“Cian,” Ronan said. His hand was on my shoulder again. Firm. Steady. “We can get him later.”

I took a breath. Then another. Forced myself to calm down. To think clearly.

“Your mother is priority,” Ronan continued. “And at the first crack of dawn, we go get the witch and get an antidote. We will even force information out of her if we must.”

I looked at the time displayed on one of the screens. Almost three in the morning. Dawn was only a few hours away.

“Okay then,” I said. “That is achievable.”

Ronan nodded. “Get some rest if you can. We will need to be sharp for this.”

Rest. As if I could sleep knowing my mother was still dying. Knowing Gabriel was out there somewhere. Laughing at us. Playing his games.

But Ronan was right. I needed to be sharp. Needed to be focused. For my mother. For the pack.

“Keep working,” I told the technicians. “If you find anything else, anything at all, I want to know immediately.”

“Yes, Alpha,” they said in unison.

I turned and walked toward the door. Ronan followed. The hallway felt colder than before. Darker.

“You should actually try to sleep,” Ronan said. “Even just a few hours.”

I did not answer. We walked in silence back toward the main wing. Past sentinels standing guard. Past empty rooms and closed doors.

When we reached the corridor that led to my quarters, Ronan stopped.

“She is in your bed, is she not?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“And you are planning to sleep where exactly?”

“My quarters are big. I can be in the lounge.”

Ronan shook his head. “That thing is terrible for your back. You have said so yourself many times.”

“I will manage.”

“Or,” Ronan said. His voice had that teasing edge again. “You could just sleep in your own bed. With appropriate space between you of course. Like a gentleman. You said it yourself. You have self control.”

“Goodnight, Ronan,” I said.

He laughed. It was soft and low. Then he clapped me on the shoulder and walked away. His footsteps faded down the hallway until I was alone.

I stood there for a moment. Looking at the door to my quarters. Knowing Fia was inside. Probably awake. I could reach out through the bond and check. But that would probably rattle her if she was indeed awake.

My wolf stirred.

Go to her.

“No,” I said quietly.

She is ours to protect. To be near.

“She needs rest. Not me lurking around her.”

The wolf growled. It disagreed. But I ignored it and turned away. Headed back toward my study. Toward the uncomfortable chair and another sleepless night.

But at least I had a plan now. At dawn we would go to the neutral zone. We would find the witch. We would get answers.

And we would save my mother.

That needed to be what was at the forefront of my mind.