To ruin an Omega

Chapter 467: The Calm before the storm 2

LYSANDER

The suppressants sat in my palm.

Three white tablets. Small enough to swallow without water. Powerful enough to fuck with my biology in ways the healer had warned against.

I stared at them for longer than necessary. The morning light cut through my window and turned them almost translucent. I could see the fine grain of the coating, the way they caught the sun and threw it back in muted flashes.

My hand closed around them.

The decision had already been made. Days ago, really. Maybe weeks. Maybe even longer. Like the moment my mother died and I realized my father would never change, would never stop, would never be anything except the monster he’d spent decades perfecting.

I walked to my dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Socks and undershirts lay folded in neat rows. I pushed them aside and dropped the bottle in the back corner, where nobody would think to look if they came for anything.

The drawer closed with a soft click.

My reflection caught in the mirror above the dresser. I looked tired. There were shadows under my eyes that hadn’t been there a month ago. My jaw was tight enough that I could see the muscle working even when I wasn’t clenching my teeth.

I almost looked like my father.

The thought made my stomach turn.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and scrolled through contacts until I found the sentinel on duty. The call connected after two rings.

"Alpha Lysander?"

"Find and tell Miss Hazel that we’re leaving in thirty minutes."

There was a pause at the other end of the line before he then spoke. "Of course. Should I inform Alpha Wenzel of your departure?"

"He already knows."

I hung up before he could ask anything else.

Breakfast could fuck itself. I had no interest in sitting at that table and pretending everything was normal. Pretending I wasn’t planning patricide. Pretending Hazel wasn’t already scheming something that would probably blow up in all our faces.

The shower called to me. I stripped and stepped under water hot enough to turn my skin pink. Steam filled the bathroom and clouded the mirror. I stood there and let the heat work into my muscles while my mind turned over plans and contingencies.

Heat season would start once it hit 12 midnight. My father would lock himself in my mother’s room the way he always did. Alone. Vulnerable. Lost in whatever twisted grief ritual he performed every year. And that would be my opening.

The suppressants would keep me clear-headed while everyone else descended into biological chaos. I would have the advantage of control while he had nothing except his own fucked up devotion to a dead woman.

I stepped out of the bathroom, water still trailing down my skin and tapping softly against the tile. The mirror had cleared just enough to give me a full look, and there it was again, that same face staring back. His face. Mine, technically, but it never felt like it belonged to me. My jaw tightened before I looked away, grabbing a towel and wrapping it low around my waist.

A knock came from the door.

I didn’t think about it. I never did anymore. "Come in," I called, already moving into the bedroom.

The handle turned.

The door opened.

And then I froze.

Hazel stood there, framed in the doorway like she had every right to be.

My body reacted before my mind caught up. I took a sharp step back, something tense and immediate snapping through my chest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She walked in like she owned the space. Her eyes traveled over me in a way that made my skin crawl, lingering on my bare chest before meeting my gaze with something that might have been amusement.

"The sentinel you sent was quite insistent about being quick." Her voice carried that sultry quality she weaponized whenever it suited her. "And knowing how cruel you could be, I didn’t want to miss going to Silvercreek because you’d look for any excuse to cancel."

I tightened my grip on the towel. "You don’t look like anyone who’s particularly grieving her grandmother."

Her expression didn’t change.

"And I know for a fact you two weren’t close." I kept my voice flat and clinical. "Your mother married for love and was abandoned by her family. Until recently."

Hazel shrugged. The gesture looked too casual. Too practiced.

"You don’t love that woman, so I can only assume you’re scheming." I stepped closer. "Which I warned you not to do."

Her chin lifted slightly. She was being defiant.

"It’s not your concern at all, actually." She crossed her arms. "Not that I would tell an enemy of mine my plans."

"We’re getting married." The words tasted like ash. "Best get used to it."

I walked past her toward the corner where I’d laid out clothes for today. When I glanced back, she was still staring. Her eyes tracked me with the kind of focus that made every nerve ending fire warning signals.

"I want to get dressed. Can you leave or turn?"

She scoffed but looked away. Her shoulders rotated toward the door while her feet stayed planted exactly where they were.

Fine. That was good enough.

I dropped the towel and pulled on underwear and pants as quickly as possible. My shirt came next. Buttons done up with fingers that moved faster than strictly necessary because having Hazel in my room while I was vulnerable made my skin try to crawl off my bones.

"After all this, you won’t have to worry about me as much again."

Her voice cut through the rustle of fabric. I paused with my shirt half-tucked and looked at her profile. She kept her gaze fixed on the door like she’d promised, but something in her posture had shifted. Gone rigid in a way that suggested she’d said more than she meant to.

"That doesn’t mean you won’t still keep hating me, though."

I finished tucking my shirt and grabbed my jacket from the chair. "What does that mean?"

"Time will tell." She turned back to face me now that I was dressed. Her expression had smoothed back into that mask she wore. Pleasant, hauntingly empty, and hiding everything underneath. "Well, are you ready then?"

"Yes."

We headed down together. The hallway stretched in front of us, and I maintained a careful distance between our bodies. Close enough to look like we were walking together. Far enough that we wouldn’t accidentally touch.

The main entrance opened to the morning sun that felt too bright. A sentinel waited by the garage with keys already in hand. He tossed them to me, and I caught them mid-air.

"Let’s go."

"Wait."

Hazel’s hand came up. Not touching me but signaling me to stop. I turned and found her scanning the driveway with narrowed eyes.

"My Omega isn’t here yet."

I blinked. "I don’t think we need a third party."

"I’m not leaving her here alone."

The statement landed wrong. Hazel had never shown particular care for the people in her service. She had treated them like furniture at best and obstacles at worst. This sudden concern felt manufactured. Performative in the same way everything about her felt calculated.

I scoffed. "Again, I’ve never known you to be someone who would show kindness to your subordinates and Omegas, even with how far you have fallen from grace. What is this really about?"

She wiped at her forehead. A bead of sweat caught the light before her hand swept it away.

"Can you just stay out of my business?" Her voice went sharp. Hard-edged in a way that cut through the sultry performance she usually maintained. "The only person I answer to here is your father, and he’s given me permission."

She stepped closer. Close enough that I could see the tension in her jaw. The way her pupils had dilated slightly.

"So your opinion about me? Irrelevant."

Footsteps sounded behind us. Running footsteps that grew louder as they approached.

An Omega rounded the corner of the house. She looked flustered. Her hair had come loose from its tie, and her breathing came hard like she’d been sprinting.

"I apologize." She bowed quickly toward Hazel. "I had to wait my turn."

Hazel’s expression softened immediately. The transformation was instant and complete. From cold dismissal to something that almost looked like concern.

"Gosh, it’s so hot today."

I looked at her. Really looked. Took in the sweat beading at her temples, the slight flush across her cheeks, the way her breathing had gone shallow.

"Must be your guilt burning you up."

I turned and walked to the car before she could respond. The driver’s side door opened under my hand, and I slid behind the wheel. The leather was already warm from sitting in the sun.

"Get in."

I started the engine while they settled into their seats. Hazel took the passenger side. Her Omega climbed into the back and immediately went quiet in that way servants learned when they wanted to be invisible.

The car pulled smoothly out of the driveway. Trees lined the road ahead, creating patches of shade and sun that alternated across the windshield.

Hazel stayed silent beside me. Her hands folded in her lap. Her gaze was fixed forward like she was studying the road ahead with great interest.

I didn’t believe the performance for a second.

Whatever she was planning, whatever scheme she’d concocted, it involved Silvercreek and this Omega and something she refused to share. The pieces sat in my head like a puzzle I couldn’t quite solve.

Movement caught my peripheral vision. Hazel had pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved across the screen, scrolling through contacts until she found what she was looking for.

Fia’s contact.

She pressed call and lifted the phone to her ear.

The ringing carried faintly in the enclosed space.

Then it cut off. The automated rejection sound was distinct even at low volume.

Hazel lowered the phone and set it in her lap. Her expression stayed neutral, but something flickered in her eyes. Satisfaction, maybe. Or confirmation of something she’d already suspected.

"What was that for?"

My voice came sharper than I intended. The question hung between us while she turned to look at me with that same pleasant mask firmly in place.

"I wanted to know if she still had me blocked." She shrugged like it was nothing. "And of course, start soft-launching what needs to happen."

My hands tightened on the wheel. The leather creaked under my grip. Every muscle in my body went rigid with the effort of not pulling over and throwing her out of the moving vehicle.

Soft-launching. Like this was some kind of social media campaign instead of whatever fucked up scheme she had brewing.

"Whatever it is," I said through clenched teeth, "don’t do it in front of me."

"Well, damn... Okay."

I just needed to hold back on this rage and tuck it somewhere it would be useful. This ended soon. Until then, I could fucking manage.