Page 62 of Ruined Omega

“I remember that,” Tal says. “I was young when that happened. Barely bigger than a pup.”

Canaris nods, his expression grave.

“Abaddon’s entire pack was killed in that fire. Every single one of them. Except for Abaddon. He did not get away unscathed though.” Canaris draws a finger down the side of his face. “He was badly burned. But it wasn’t just his face that got disfigured that day. A far more grievous scar was left upon his soul.”

“His omega,” Tal whispers.

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand,” I jump in. My voice is barely louder than a whisper, but the three Alphas turn toward me like I shouted. “What do you mean about his omega?”

Tal looks at me over his thickly muscled shoulder. “The bond between an omega and her Alphas is stronger than anything else in nature. When that bond is broken by death, the pain that the surviving member experiences is excruciating. A deep, spiritual pain that is nearly impossible to endure.”

“What happens?” I ask.

“Most Alphas don’t survive it,” Tal goes on. “Some of them will simply wither away and die. Others will take their own lives through violence. But a few strong Alphas survive, and sometimes they find a new mate eventually.”

Canaris nods. “But that isn’t what happened with Abaddon. The loss of his omega twisted his mind. He blamed the tribe for her death, and he swore a lifelong vendetta against the tribe of the central ruins.”

“And how do you know all this?” Baen asks.

“Because Abaddon killed my father.”

Baen, Tal, and I all three gasp in unison.

“After the loss of his mate and his pack, Abaddon fled from the central ruins to live out his tormented existence in the wilderness. He came upon this tribe of Farlander Alphas and established himself as their leader. He never dared to raid the central ruins directly—that would be suicide—but he did attack hunting parties and other Alphas who ventured outside of the safety of the ruins. My father was one of many Alphas who died in one of those ambushes.”

A silence descends for a moment.

The pain and sadness emanating from Canaris is almost palpable. The sight pulls at the strings of my heart, and I want to move forward and give him a hug. Tal and Baen would never allow that, however.

Instead, I simply say, “I’m sorry, Canaris.”

He stares at me, and the corner of his mouth turns up slightly in a sad, sympathetic smile.

“But how did you end up here?” Baen asks.

Canaris’s shoulders rise and fall with a deep sigh.

“Simply put, it’s because I’m a failure,” he groans. “I was just a young pup when my father was killed. Once I was old enough, I set out into the Farlands, searching for my father’s murderer. I killed many a Farlander in the process. But Abaddon’s tribe found me before I found them. They ambushed me in the night, captured me, and threw me in this cage.”

Canaris’s muscles tense with pent up anger. His face reddens and winding veins bulge along his arms and his thick neck.

“I had one task, and I failed. But someone must stop Abaddon. He is a menace. The Farlanders are bad enough, but they are only driven by instincts. Abaddon is different. He is driven by pure hatred. He wants nothing but to destroy every Alpha of the central tribe.

“That,” speaks a cool, mirthless voice from behind us, “is something of an oversimplification, Canaris.”

It is Abaddon. The dark-cloaked Alpha is now standing just outside the cage, his pale fingers hooked on one of the horizontal cross bars, his eyes glaring at us, one brown and one milky blue. The omega witch, Sickorax, is grinning at his side.

In a flash, Baen has sprung toward the bars, teeth gnashing and fingers outstretched. But Abaddon easily steps back, and Baen clangs off the grate, rebounding back into the mud.

“Tsk-tsk,” Abaddon clucks his tongue. “There is no point injuring yourself, boy. No quantity of self-harm will numb you against the pain I have in store for you and your companions.”

His mismatched eyes move among the Alpha prisoners inside the muddy cage, landing last on me. My blood turns to sleet in my veins.

“What do you want from us?” Tal’s voice is steady. Whatever emotions he is feeling right now, he is hiding them exceptionally well. Me, on the other hand—I’m on the verge of peeing myself.

Abaddon strolls around the perimeter of the cage.