Reborn as a villain:Claim the omega, Kiss the beta, Kill the dukes Chapter 12: All I’ve ever been

Chapter Eleven

Ciel

I sit cross-legged on the rug, arranging the boxes of takeaway on the low coffee table. Jack bought everything—like he walked in and said yes instead of reading the nu. There’s curry, roasted chicken, rice, flatbread, soup, even sothing sweet-slling I can’t na.

I’m not complaining. I’ve gone days without food before. The sll is overwhelming, warm and rich, like comfort I forgot existed.

Beside the napkins, tucked between two sauce packets, is the sonogram photo. Black and white. Blurry, but undeniably real.

I trace the soft curve of the head. The faint shape of a hand. Maybe a foot. My baby. My son.

Still alive.

I’m still staring when I hear the creak of a door.

Nolan steps out of the guest room—Jack had offered it without hesitation. His hair is damp, sticking up in soft blond tufts. He’s wearing one of Jack’s robes, skin still glowing faintly from the warmth of the shower. He looks... relaxed. Human. Safe.

"That felt amazing," he says, running a towel over his neck. His voice is low, familiar.

I nod. "Jack keeps everything stocked. Says it’s habit."

He sits beside on the floor, close but not too close, eyes going straight to the sonogram.

"Is that him?"

I nod again and set it down gently between us, like sothing fragile. "Four and a half months."

He studies it, lips parting slightly. "He’s tiny."

My arms fold protectively over my belly. "But strong. I don’t even know how he’s healthy, given everything. Sleeping on benches, eating once every two days... I thought—" My throat tightens.

Nolan shifts closer, his warmth brushing mine. "I know who he gets it from."

I blink, then smile faintly. "You always say the right thing."

"I an it."

I clear my throat, nudging a box of food toward him. "Eat. You’re starving too."

We pick at the food together, like we always used to—sharing without asking, passing pieces back and forth. He offers a bit of roasted chicken first, like muscle mory, and I take it without thinking. There’s comfort in it. Familiar.

By the ti we’re done, only half a naan and so sauce remain. Nolan lies back on the rug with a sigh, stretching his arms above his head.

"This brings back mories, huh?"

I laugh softly. "Yeah. You sneaking into my room after your mom fell asleep. Us lying in silence until we passed out."

"You always hogged the blankets."

"You always drooled on my pillow."

He snorts. "Fair."

Silence stretches—warm, but heavy. Then his tone shifts. "So how’d you end up in the alpha’s hands?"

The mory rises, sharp and cold.

"I got to the bus station late. Didn’t expect much—just a corner to sleep until morning. But..." My voice falters. "A lone pregnant oga’s an easy target."

Nolan stills.

"They cornered . Took my bag. Hit . I fought back—bit one of them, I think—but I don’t rember much after that. I just ran. And ran. Then I bumped into Jack."

His brow furrows, jaw tight. "He didn’t—?"

"No," I cut in fast. "Nothing like that. He cleaned up. Called a doctor. I woke up in a warm bed, with an IV drip. Food. Safety."

Nolan exhales, tension leaving his shoulders—only to return sharper. "And now?"

"I don’t know," I admit. "He says he just wants to help. He hasn’t asked for anything. Hasn’t tried anything. Just... lets be."

Nolan’s fists clench around the blanket. "Don’t tell you trust him."

I look away. I knew this was coming.

"I don’t know," I say quietly. "All I know is I have a roof over my head. I don’t have to freeze in so alley, or go to bed starving. And next week, I’ll check on my baby again. Make sure he’s okay."

"You can’t be serious." His voice rises, sharp. "Alphas cannot be trusted. They’ve proven it over and over. You think this one’s different?"

"I know," I snap, turning to him. "I know. My body reminds every damn day. I carry those scars. You don’t need to remind —I live with it."

He stares, guilt flickering in his expression. "Ciel, I’m only like this because I care."

And there it is—his love, wrapped in barbed wire. Always tight enough to cut.

"I know," I whisper.

He leans forward. "Sooner or later, he’ll show his true intentions. They always do."

"I know," I say again. Then, bitter, "But what’s the alternative, Nollie?"

He blinks.

"I’m an oga. Pregnant. No one hires ogas without registration. Even if I could, what then? Those bastards are still looking for . I can’t walk outside without checking over my shoulder."

He opens his mouth, but I keep going.

"And you? You think physical labor will keep us fed? You can’t even cover a cab fare. How long before soone sniffs us out? Before they co again?"

He flinches. His pride bruised.

"We’ll figure sothing out," he mutters, but it’s weak.

"That won’t cut it anymore," I snap. My hands tremble, not from fear but fury. "It’s not just now. I refuse to raise my son on the streets."

His jaw tightens. "So what—you’ll reduce yourself? Be his... his sex slave? That’s what alphas want. That’s always what they want."

The words hit like acid. Old wounds, ripped open again.

I laugh hollowly. "Did you forget, Nollie?" My voice is quiet, broken.

"That’s all I’ve ever been since I presented."

The silence after is crushing.

I stand, fingers curling around the sonogram photo. My throat burns, my chest feels too tight. I move toward the door.

"Ciel—" he says, reaching instinctively.

I stop. Don’t turn.

"Not tonight," I whisper.

And I leave.