Page 99 of Run Little Omega

He flinches at each accusation, the cillae across his skin responding with erratic pulses. "Yes," he answers finally. "I understand that's who I've been. Who part of me still is."

"Then you understand why I need distance." I back toward the clearing's edge, our claiming bond stretching painfully between us. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

Through that bond, I feel his acceptance warring with desperation—the part of him that wants to chase me, to force a resolution, held in check by the understanding that I need space to process this betrayal.

"The forest isn't safe," he says instead. "Court hunting parties?—"

"I survived just fine before you claimed me." The reminder is deliberate, a rejection of dependence. "The forest seems positively welcoming compared to what I've discovered here."

He doesn't argue, though concern pulses through our bond. "The central haven will remain open to you. Its protection extends beyond my authority."

The implication that he might leave—might return to his court duties, to signing more death warrants—sends another surge of ice spreading from my feet. "Going back to business as usual, then?"

"No." The single word carries weight beyond its simplicity. "Nothing will ever be usual again. Not for me."

I want to believe him. Part of me—the part connected to him through frost and claiming—desperately wants to trust that he has changed, that our bond has awakened something genuine in the Winter Prince.

But the documents bearing his signature lie between us, physical proof of centuries of calculated cruelty.

"I need time," I say finally, unable to reconcile the man I've come to know with the monster whose actions I've witnessed.

"Time is the one thing I can give you." The cillae across his skin pulse once, brightly, before dimming to near invisibility. "Though the bond will stretch painfully between us."

Already I feel it—a physical ache as I back toward the forest edge, each step increasing the distance between us. Part of me wants to turn and run, to put as much space as possible between myself and the Winter Prince. Another part, traitorous and primal, wants to return to his arms despite everything I've learned.

That conflict, more than anything, forces my decision.

"Goodbye, Cadeyrn." The words emerge as frost on the air between us.

I turn and flee into the forest, our bond stretching painfully behind me. Through it, I feel his resolve not to follow, his understanding that pursuit would only deepen the breach between us.

As I run, the forest responds to my emotional state—branches bending to clear my path, undergrowth parting before my feet. The Wild Magic flows more freely here, away from the central haven with its ancient but contained power.

Behind me, the claiming bond stretches thin but doesn't break. Despite everything, the connection between us remains—damaged, strained to its limits, but intact. Whether that represents hope or another prison remains to be seen.

The forest swallows me into its shadows, offering protection I no longer trust from anyone or anything touched by court influence. From now on, I rely only on myself—and the Wild Magic that responds to my need rather than court control.

CHAPTER35

POV: Briar

I rununtil my lungs scorch and my legs threaten collapse, until the central haven diminishes to memory and Cadeyrn exists only as the painful stretching of our bond—a wound refusing to seal. With each footfall, ice erupts across the forest floor—no longer elegant spirals but jagged formations that fracture beneath my next step.

Grief surges through me like molten metal, threatening to consume rational thought. My mind replays the Vale of Culling in merciless detail—unmarked graves stretching toward the horizon, strange death blooms pulsing with harvested magic, the contaminated stream carrying poison toward Thornwick. Toward my mother. Toward Willow.

And beneath every horror, Cadeyrn's elegant signature authorizing it all.

I stumble over an exposed root, barely catching myself against ancient bark. The rough texture beneath my palms anchors me momentarily in physical sensation rather than emotional chaos. I press my forehead against the living wood, struggling to draw breath through the vice tightening around my ribs.

"He killed her," I whisper to the watching forest. "Not with his hands, but with his signature. With his calculated indifference."

The betrayal cuts deeper than expected. I've known Cadeyrn barely a fortnight, yet the bond between us had grown into something I foolishly believed transcended our brutal beginning. Each claiming brought us closer—minds entangling alongside bodies until his thoughts brushed against mine, his emotions coloring my own.

All while his past actions poisoned my mother's water. While his court protocols ensured Willow would never see another crimson moon.

A sound tears from my throat—raw and feral, neither fully human nor animal. It echoes strangely in the hushed forest, absorbed by the ancient trees rather than reflected back. Only then do I notice the unnatural silence surrounding me—no birdsong, no rustling undergrowth, no distant howls of hunting predators.

Just silence, watchful and aware.

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