The Omega Who Wasn't Supposed to Exist-Chapter 15: The Room Where It Happened (and Then Fell Apart)

[Rynthall Estate, continuation...]

There was a moment of complete, paralyzing silence.

Then:

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU’RE THE FATHER?!"

Lucien’s voice cracked like thunder, his hands flailing so wildly that he accidentally slapped Marcel’s unconscious body lying beside him. Marcel didn’t even twitch.

Probably for the best.

Silas didn’t blink. "What do you think I mean?"

Lucien stared at him like he’d just confessed to being a talking cabbage. "I think," he gasped, chest heaving with a blend of outrage and pregnancy-induced dizziness, "that the air in this room is too thick with stupidity and bad decisions and—possibly some hallucination-inducing gas, because this—" he flailed both arms dramatically, "—this cannot be real!"

The physician cleared his throat delicately. "It’s very real."

Lucien whipped his head around so fast his neck cracked. "No one asked you, Nosey McScience!"

The physician blinked behind his spectacles. "My name is Frederick."

"Shut up, Frederick!"

Lucien spun back toward Silas, wobbling slightly like an angry, hormonal, top-heavy squirrel. He gripped the blanket draped around his shoulders like a royal cape, stared the Grand Duke down, and jabbed a trembling finger toward his own abdomen.

"Now... you," he hissed.

"So you’re telling me... you’re the person who knocked me up?! You left your stupid, duke-y sperm just swimming around in there like they own the place, and now I’m—" he gagged on the word, gesturing to his stomach like it was cursed, "—now I’m pregnant?!"

Silas cocked a brow. "Are you calling my sperm stupid?"

"WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO CALL THEM?! Little scholars with degrees in life choices?!"

Silas blinked. "I prefer ’ambitious.’"

Lucien made a noise so ungodly it probably startled the gods. "YOU—! THIS IS—! I CAN’T—!"

Silas tilted his head slightly. "Are you done?"

"NO, I’M NOT DONE!" Lucien roared. "YOU KNOCKED ME UP AND MADE ME PREGNANT!"

He grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it with the force of righteous fury. It bounced harmlessly off Silas’s shoulder and fell to the floor like a disgraced soldier.

Silas turned to the physician with all the serenity of a man asking about tea flavors. "Is yelling good for my upcoming child?"

"IT’S MY KID, YOU BASTARD!" Lucien shrieked.

"I contributed."

Frederick raised his hand hesitantly. "Yelling is not good for your pregnancy, Baron."

Lucien froze mid-gasp, visibly trying to control his breathing. He gritted his teeth, slowly lowering himself back onto the bed and clutching his belly with both hands like it held the Hope Diamond. "I am not sharing my child with anyone," he muttered darkly. "It’s mine. Only mine."

The room fell into awkward silence.

Then—

"Everyone out," Silas said, his voice calm but authoritative.

No one argued. Frederick fled like he’d been waiting for that order for years. Elize sighed, grabbed Marcel’s limp wrist, and dragged him out like a sack of noble potatoes.

The door shut with a click.

Now it was just the two of them. Lucien curled up on the bed, arms wrapped around his stomach like someone might reach in and snatch the baby from inside. Silas stood nearby, watching him with a storm brewing behind his usually composed eyes.

With a sigh, he moved to sit at the edge of the bed, one hand slowly reaching toward Lucien.

"DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!" Lucien snapped, flinching like Silas was about to slap him with a marriage contract.

Silas froze. His hand dropped. "...Alright."

Silence.

Then, softer this time, Silas said, "I know this is hard—"

"No, you don’t," Lucien snapped.

Silas nodded once, slowly. "Let me finish."

Lucien didn’t say anything, but he didn’t yell either. A small win.

Silas continued, his voice low but steady. "I don’t know what it’s like to be pregnant. Or scared. Or feel like your body has betrayed you. But I do know what it’s like to want to protect something so badly it hurts."

Lucien glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Silas’s jaw was tense now. "I want to raise our child. I want to be there. I want them to grow up knowing their father didn’t run away, didn’t ignore them, and didn’t leave them and their mother alone. I want to be that person. But I can’t do that unless you let me try."

Lucien was quiet.

Silas leaned forward slightly. "And this isn’t just about us anymore."

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "What the hell does that mean?"

Silas’s expression darkened. "There’s a killer out there, Lucien. Still wandering. Still uncaught. And he’s not random."

Lucien went very, very still.

Silas locked eyes with him. "He’s targeting pregnant omegas. Black-haired ones. You fit the pattern. Perfectly."

Lucien’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No sound came out. He looked down at his stomach like it had become a beacon for death.

"And he’s getting bolder," Silas added. "Closer. There’s no time to pretend this is something you can manage on your own. You need protection."

Lucien swallowed hard.

"I can’t change the past," Silas said softly, "but I can protect your future. Our future. So please... just give me a chance."

For a moment, all Lucien could do was breathe. Loud, trembling breaths. His fingers tightened protectively over the curve of his stomach like it was the last thing anchoring him to reality.

"...Will you really protect my child?" he asked softly, not quite able to look Silas in the eye.

Silas didn’t hesitate. "Our child. And yes, I’ll protect him—or her—with everything I have. I promise."

Lucien went quiet.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight off a serial killer targeting pregnant omegas—especially not one like him. Rare male omega pregnancies were already risky enough. His physician had drilled that fact into his skull since the moment he found out.

This wasn’t the time to gamble. He didn’t have the luxury of pride. Not when it came to his baby.

And Silas... Silas was rumored to be the King’s Blade. A monster in battle. A protector of the realm. If anyone could keep them safe, it was him.

"...Alright," Lucien finally said. Then he turned to glare at Silas, fire in his eyes. "But—I am warning you—if you ever try to take my child away from me, I swear on all the gods old and new, I will run away, vanish off the face of the continent, and personally teach my child a full curriculum titled ’Why Daddy Is the Worst: Advanced Level.’"

Silas blinked, then gave a small, rare smile. "Fair enough."

He stood up with calm finality and brushed off imaginary dust from his coat. "Alright. You should get some rest. I’ll handle all the preparations."

Lucien frowned. "Preparations? What kind of preparations?"

Silas didn’t answer. He turned instead, walking toward the chamber doors like some cryptic drama villain exiting stage left.

"Silas?" Lucien called, now suspicious. "What preparations?!"

Silas opened the doors.

"Elize," he called calmly.

She appeared almost instantly. "Yes, my lord?"

"Tell Callen to begin the wedding preparations."

Lucien blinked. Once. Twice.

Then he shrieked like a banshee. "I NEVER SAID I’M MARRYING YOU, YOU ABSOLUTE SON OF A—"

The rest of his insult was muffled by the pillow he flung with lethal force. It hit the doorframe with a dull thud, missing Silas entirely.

Silas didn’t even look back. "Rest well, dearest."

The door clicked shut.

And that’s how... the chaotic wedding preparations began—with a baby on the way, a furious omega wrapped in blankets, and a smug duke orchestrating everything without permission.

But while the household braced for flowers, fabrics, and furious screaming matches...

...the real danger was still out there, watching.

Waiting.

And it wasn’t done yet.