Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 73: Tears

Chapter 73: Tears

I drop down from the carriage, furious, my fists clenched as I stalk toward the castle. I couldn’t kill the bastards behind the accident and poisoning from three years ago, not all of them at least—not the ones with titles, with noble status, hiding under the Crown Prince’s protection. Their shields may be forged by rank, but it’s flimsy against the sting of vengeance. I’ll tear down everything else they hold dear.

They thought they were safe in their webs of corruption, dripping with the blood of innocents, but I’ve swept through their dens with righteous fury, cutting into their profits, dismantling their operations. Tax fraud, illegal gambling, drugs—I’ve exposed it all, and made sure to do it in a way they’d know it was me. I’ve wiped out the heart of their businesses.

The thought of the Crown Prince’s face when he realizes his precious funds have taken a hit? It almost brings a smile to my lips. Almost. I sent Leona out on a hunt for evidence that will tie those corrupt nobles directly to their shady enterprises. This is only the beginning.

But the blood... the stench of it clings to me. I catch a whiff of iron, sweat, and death, and the memory of the blade I held just a few hours ago flashes in my mind. I need a bath. I need peace. I need him. The thought of my beloved star, Noelle, lifts the weight in my chest slightly. I’ll soak the filth away and then lose myself in his warmth for the rest of the day.

But as soon as I step inside the castle, I notice something’s off. The usual buzz of life among the servants is stifled—strained. They’re nervous. Far more anxious than usual. My instincts flare, a gut-deep warning ringing through my body.

"Where is he?" I bark at the nearest servant, my voice sharper than I intended.

"The greenhouse, my lord," he stammers, bowing quickly before scurrying away.

The greenhouse. Of course. I make my way there quickly, the tension in my shoulders not easing in the slightest. Something isn’t right. I push open the door to the greenhouse, stepping into the warmth and damp air. The scent of fresh earth and flowers surrounds me, usually a calming fragrance, but now it does nothing to soothe the edge in my heart.

And then I see him. Noelle.

He’s sitting by a shrub of delicate flowers, but he isn’t tending to them as he usually would. Instead, he’s just... staring. His eyes are locked on something in the distance, something I can’t see, lost in his thoughts, his expression hollow. It’s like all the light that usually radiates from him has dimmed.

I take a few steps forward, my heart pounding faster now—not with rage, but with concern. What’s happened? What did I miss?

"Leave us," I say to Doris, my voice barely above a whisper, yet firm. She bows and leaves without hesitation, sensing the tension in the room.

I turn my attention back to Noelle, sitting there so still, so unlike his usual self.

"Hey, my beloved star," I murmur, trying to soften the thick air between us. My hand gently reaches for him, brushing a few locks of hair from his face. When he finally looks up at me, my heart stops—no, it’s worse than that. It shatters.

His beautiful green eyes are red and swollen, tears staining his delicate cheeks.

Panic surges through me, and before I can think, I drop to my knees in front of him, cradling his face in my hands as though he might slip away if I let go.

"My star, what’s wrong?" I ask, my voice betraying the fear that claws at me.

But he looks away from me. Away from me. That single action sends a cold dread spiraling through my chest. Noelle never hides from me like this. Something is wrong.

"Nothing," he whispers, his voice barely audible, but I can feel the lie in it. The way his body is tense, the way he’s avoiding my gaze. No, something is deeply wrong.

"Noelle..." I begin, my voice soft but insistent, "I know something is up. Please, tell me."

He stands suddenly, too abruptly, as if the weight of my question is too much for him to bear. He walks away from me, his movements stiff and mechanical, like he’s trying to run from whatever is tormenting him.

I stand and follow, grabbing his hand gently but firmly before he can leave. "I’m okay," he says, his voice shaky, fragile.

"My beloved, please," I plead, holding on tighter. I can feel him trembling beneath my touch.

For a moment, he remains still, then the dam inside him breaks, and he lets out a sob that tears through the silence like a knife. His words come out between choking breaths. "Do you love me, Thorne?"

His question hits me like a punch to the gut. How could he even ask that? I pull him into my arms, holding him close as though I could shield him from whatever terrible thoughts are haunting him.

"Of course I do, my beloved star. I love you so much," I whisper, pressing my lips to his hair, rubbing gentle circles on his back, desperate to ease his pain.

But the sobs keep coming, each one more heart-wrenching than the last. He pulls away just enough to look at me, his tear-streaked face filled with so much fear and uncertainty that it makes me want to break down too.

"It’s just that... I feel so scared," he admits, his voice trembling. "That one day you won’t love me anymore."

Those words... They knock the breath out of me, like a blade twisting deep in my chest. How could he ever think that? How could he doubt what we have? What I feel for him? I cup his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears that keep falling.

"I don’t think that’s possible," I say softly, but even as I speak, I can hear the raw edge of desperation in my own voice.

Noelle shakes his head, pulling away from me again, his sobs growing more frantic.

"But what if you get bored of me? What if you want more than I can give you? What if... What if you bring someone else into our marriage? What if you want more children than I can bear for you?" His words tumble out, each one like a fresh wound. He’s crying openly now, his beautiful face crumpled with pain.

I can barely breathe. My chest aches with the weight of his words. Where is this coming from? This morning we were fine, weren’t we? He trusted me, we knew each other. What’s caused this?

Before I can respond, he grabs my collar, yanking me down so that I’m face-to-face with him. His green eyes, usually so bright, are now clouded with anguish and insecurity.

"Thorne," he says, his voice cracking, "you’re supposed to be MY alpha. I might not be certain of anything else in this world, but you’re mine. You’re supposed to be my one constant... aren’t you?"

That final aren’t you—spoken so softly, so brokenly—shatters me completely. I’ve faced battlefields, betrayal, and near-death, but nothing has ever hurt like this moment. The raw, desperate plea in his voice—the fear that maybe, just maybe, I won’t always be there for him—it ruins me.

I pull him into my arms again, holding him as tightly as I can without hurting him.

"My star," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

"Of course I’m yours. You own my life, my body, my soul. Nothing in this world or the next can change that."

He fights me for a second, pushing against me, but then his resistance crumbles, and he melts into my embrace, his sobs softening as I stroke his hair, whispering words of reassurance.

"You’re mine," I repeat over and over, like a vow, like a prayer. "I belong to you, only you."

I don’t know how long we sit there like that, with him crying quietly into my chest as I hold him, but eventually his sobs slow, his breathing evens out, and I guide us to a nearby chair.

For the next hour, I just sit with him, comforting him, reassuring him. I tell him again and again how much I love him, how there’s no one else for me but him. He doesn’t say much, but he clings to me, his hands fisting in my shirt like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

"My star?" I whisper after a long silence, glancing down at him. There’s no response. His breathing is soft and even, and when I look more closely, I realize he’s fallen asleep, still clutching onto me like a lifeline.

He looks so peaceful now, his face relaxed, the tears on his cheeks drying. He’s beautiful, even in his exhaustion, and my heart aches just looking at him. How could he ever think I’d want anyone else?

Carefully, I lift him into my arms, carrying him up the flights of stairs to our room on the third floor. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, nestling his face into my neck as I lay him gently on the bed. I try to move away, to let him rest, but his grip tightens on me, even in sleep.

I smile faintly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I’m not going anywhere," I whisper.

Eventually, his body relaxes, his breathing deepens, and he fully succumbs to sleep. I slip out of the room quietly, closing the door behind me. Doris is waiting outside, her face

tight with concern.

I just nod at her, saying nothing, and make my way down the stairs.