All Chapters of The Omegas Cry: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Rufford’s POVWhy hasn’t she come back yet? The question circled in my mind, relentless and heavy. I thought the dinner would barely stretch past an hour, maybe less given Eloise’s temperament. But now, two hours had crawled by, and not even a glimpse of her silhouette had graced the doorway.The unease gnawed at me, growing with every tick of the clock. Tyrone had entrusted her to me—a duty I had accepted without hesitation. Yet, here I was, pacing like a restless predator, uncertain of her whereabouts after she had left to dine with the alpha.The alpha. My thoughts lingered bitterly on him, the memory of their earlier encounter replaying in my mind. Eloise’s disdain for him was no secret; it radiated from her like a tangible force, sharp and unyielding. The way she looked at him, her gaze filled with quiet fury, had spoken volumes. There was no hiding the anger she carried, the kind that burned hot and refused to be tamed.There was no way she could tolerate his presence for long,

Eloise’ POVThere it was again… the faint scent of medication lingering in the air, hard to take on nostrils yet oddly familiar. It crept into my awareness, accompanied by the muffled hum of voices exchanging words I couldn’t quite make out. The blurred outlines of their conversation blended with the haze of my thoughts.For the second time, I realized I was waking up in a place where physicians had tended to me. A place of recovery—or perhaps survival. The brightness above me was overwhelming, even though my eyes remained stubbornly closed. I could feel the light pressing against my eyelids, a glow that entered the cloud of my half-conscious state.The wind drifted in through an open window, brushing gently against my skin. It carried with it the subtle scent of damp earth and distant trees, grounding me in a way I couldn’t explain. The ground... where I fell.My senses seemed sharper than before, as though they had been pulled taut by some unseen force. Every breath, every shift in

Eloise’ POVThey say grief takes on a different form for everyone. Some find solace in old photographs, staring at the faces of those they've lost until the tears run dry, and somehow, they begin to feel whole again. Others dive into memories, reliving moments over and over until the sharp edges of sorrow smooth into something more bearable—something that feels distant, almost unreal.But how does a mother grieve for a child she never truly held? A child whose voice she never heard, whose laughter she could only imagine? How does a mother mourn for the life that never had a chance to blossom?This pain... it doesn’t fade. It doesn’t lessen. It burrows deep into my chest, a constant ache that no distraction can ease.I could have been the best mother to my child. I would have been. If only I hadn’t lost him.The thought lingers like a haunting refrain. It plays in my mind, over and over, refusing to be silenced. No matter what I do—no matter how much work I drown myself in, no matter h

Eloise’ POVMy things were packed, neatly arranged in the bag that sat waiting by the door. The room felt eerily empty now, stripped of the clutter and familiarity I had built over the weeks. Everything I might need had been carefully selected and placed inside—not by me, but by others who seemed far more excited about this journey than I could ever be. Their eagerness to see me take this step felt like a weight on my chest, pressing down with expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet.“Are you really going to be alright?” Zoe’s voice broke the silence, pulling my thoughts back to the present. She stood before me, her hands clasping mine tightly, her eyes full of worry. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can turn back now if this isn’t what you want. It’s your life, Eloise. Don’t let someone else’s desires dictate your path.”Her words stirred something within me, but I pushed the feeling aside. I smiled, a little wider than I felt, hoping to ease her concerns. “Don’t worry abo

Eloise’ POVMy fingernails tapped rhythmically against the countertop of the front desk, the soft clinking sound echoing faintly through the vast, empty hallway. This place—an oversized inn that seemed to stretch with no concrete ends—felt like it was swallowing me whole. Its quiet grandeur, with its polished floors and lofty ceilings, was stifling. My eyes darted around, seeking distraction, but there was nothing here except the oppressive silence.Behind me, Cedrick sat in a chair, stiff and distant, as though he were a stranger rather than someone who had once been impossible to ignore. His presence wasn't easily dismissed, yet he made no move to engage. It was as if the tension between us magically became thicker than blood, pushing us into separate worlds despite sharing the same space.I could feel the fact of his disinterest pressing on me. He had once been relentless—hovering, teasing, always finding ways to pull me into his orbit. But now? Now, he sat there like a disapprovi