Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 100: Not now

Chapter 100: Not now

"Trust in this old man of yours," my father said, his voice brimming with confidence as he looked at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. I narrowed mine in response, suspicious. He had brought me to the royal palace today, and I knew there was more to it than he was letting on. But with that sparkle of determination, I knew arguing was pointless. My father had his mind made up, and I had little choice but to go along with whatever he had planned.

I sighed, resigned to whatever fate awaited me in this ornate prison of a room. The luxurious decor, plush furniture, and intricate designs screamed of wealth and power. Yet none of it made me feel any more comfortable. Perhaps because of the company I was forced to keep.

Rolland.

Of all people.

The two of us sat in an awkward silence, each occasionally sipping from the delicate porcelain teacups set before us. The tension between us was thick, palpable. I couldn’t stand being in the same room as him, and I knew the feeling was mutual. We had always crossed paths in the social circles of the capital, both of us being high-born omegas with enough suitors to last a lifetime. But the rivalry between us ran deeper than just the typical games of status and power.

People talked—oh, how they loved to gossip—whispering that we despised one another because we were always in competition. That I hated Rolland for trying to claim the title of the kingdom’s most desired omega. That he loathed me for being the one who came closest to dethroning him from that absurd pedestal. The idea was laughable. I cared nothing for such titles or frivolous status games.

There was only one man’s attention I wanted. Only one person I longed to look at me the way the others did.

But, as fate would have it, Rolland desired him too.

Thorne. The Crimson General.

And I knew, deep down, that Rolland didn’t even care for Thorne. Not really. He wanted him purely out of spite. A way to get back at me. He only chased after Thorne because he knew I wanted him. It made me despise Rolland all the more.

He thrives on the attention. I’ve seen the way his lips quirk with satisfaction when people fawn over him, the way his eyes sparkle when the whispers surround him. It’s not even about Thorne, not really. It never has been. He doesn’t love Thorne; he just wants to win. To be the one standing in the spotlight while I’m cast in shadows.

The silence between us is heavy, filled with the unspoken bitterness and resentment we never voice. What would be the point? There’s no love lost between us. The palace staff think it’s merely a clash of pretty faces and fragile egos, that we’re two spoiled Omegas squabbling over who gets to wear the metaphorical crown of beauty. But it’s more than that. It’s about desire and yearning and the infuriating feeling of being locked in an unwinnable war.

Rolland stirs his tea slowly, almost leisurely, his long lashes casting shadows over his delicate features. He’s the epitome of elegance, with that soft, silken hair and refined poise. Everything about him screams perfection, and I loathe it. I hate the way his presence consumes the room, the way his mere existence is enough to make me feel small, insignificant, overlooked.

But I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter. So I sit, my back straight, my expression placid, and sip my tea in silence. Let the world think what it will. Let them believe we’re tearing each other apart over titles and admiration.

In truth, we’re just two bitter souls clawing at something neither of us can have.

I suppress a sigh, placing the teacup gently on its saucer. My father and the King—what are they plotting? Whatever it is, it can’t be good. The only thing that could make this worse is if they bring Thorne into the equation. And knowing my father’s penchant for dramatics, I wouldn’t put it past him.

Rolland meets my gaze briefly, and in that fleeting moment, something shifts. The corner of his mouth lifts in the barest hint of a smirk, and I feel my heart clench.

He knows something. Something I don’t.

"Why are we here?" I finally ask, breaking the silence. My voice is steady, but I can’t keep the edge of suspicion from creeping in.

"Why indeed," Rolland murmurs softly, his tone almost mocking. He sets his cup down delicately, every movement graceful, infuriatingly perfect.

"Perhaps they finally want to decide who’s truly the fairest of them all, hmm?"

I grit my teeth, swallowing back a retort. He’s toying with me. He’s always been better at this game—sly, quick-tongued, and utterly ruthless when it comes to pushing my buttons. But I won’t rise to the bait. Not today.

"I’m not interested in playing your little games, Rolland," I say quietly, my gaze steady on his. "Just tell me what you know."

He laughs softly, the sound light and airy, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze, ignoring me. What did I expect?

*

The heat is unbearable, like my skin is on fire. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the discomfort coursing through me. I shift restlessly, trying to find some relief, but it’s useless. Something’s wrong, very wrong.

I glance over at Rolland, and he’s not faring any better. His brows are furrowed, his breathing uneven, and his face mirrors the same discomfort I feel. Alarm bells start ringing in my head, loud and insistent.

I know this feeling. I’ve felt it before. Panic grips my chest like a vice, squeezing tighter with every second.

This can’t be happening again. Not now.

Not here.

Before I can even begin to process what’s unfolding, Thorne stumbles into the room, his pheromones thick and heavy in the air, almost suffocating. The tension spikes instantly, and my heart drops into my stomach like a stone.

My mind races, panic clawing at the edges of my thoughts.

Thorne’s eyes flicker to mine, dark and hazy with a look that tells me he’s not entirely in control. His normally composed demeanor is gone, replaced by something feral. It’s a dangerous cocktail of desire, instinct, and power, and I have no idea what’s about to happen next.

Father, what have you done?