HAZEL
New Omega maids came in.
They moved quickly and even more professionally. Like nothing had happened at all. Like there wasn’t blood still on the floor near the door, like the screaming hadn’t stopped echoing in my ears just seconds ago.
They served the food without looking at any of us. Plates came down in front of me. Something with roasted vegetables and meat I didn’t recognize. The smell was good though. It was rich, savory and entirely at odds with what had just occurred.
I picked up my fork.
Around the table, everyone else did the same.
We ate.
The silence was complete. Not the comfortable kind where people were simply focused on their meal. This was the kind that pressed down on your chest. The kind that made you aware of every small sound. The scrape of a knife. The soft clink of a glass being set down. Someone’s breathing, slightly too fast.
I looked up.
Just a glance. Just enough to take in the table without seeming like I was studying them.
They all looked fine.
Composed and I could even add calm. Perhaps this was just another Tuesday morning and nothing unusual had occurred. Forks moved to mouths. Food was chewed. Swallowed. The rhythm of it was almost mechanical.
But it was a lie. A lie that they throw.hatf to keep sewed in.
If I was being frank, only Lysander seemed truly unbothered.
His posture was perfect. His expression neutral. He ate the way someone might complete paperwork.
I went back to my own plate.
That did made me feel like something wasn’t adding up. This had to be a regular thing. Wenzel didn’t get that kind of obedience, that kind of immediate compliance, without repetition. Without history. These people had seen this before. They had lived through versions of this before.
So why had they flinched?
Why had the girls turned away? Why had Sofiane looked at the ceiling like he couldn’t bear to watch?
If this was normal, if this was routine, then the shock should have worn off by now. They should have been as detached as Lysander. As unbothered as their father.
But they weren’t.
I cut into the meat on my plate. It was tender. Cooked perfectly.
When I looked up again, Alpha Warren had finished his meal.
He stood. The movement was unhurried. He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, folded it, set it down beside his plate.
"I’ll leave you kids to your devices," he said.
His voice was pleasant. Light, even. It was so odd seeing him act like he was a normal father excusing himself from a normal family breakfast.
He turned to Lysander. "Remember. Spend time with the Lady."
Lysander nodded once. "Of course, Father."
Wenzel started toward the door.
Then he stopped. Right beside Sofiane’s chair.
I watched without lifting my head. Just my eyes. Just enough to see.
"The least you should be able to do," Wenzel said quietly, "is know how to use your cutlery right."
Sofiane didn’t move. He didn’t look up either. His hand simply tightened around his fork.
"You never stop disappointing me," Wenzel finished.
Then he walked out.
The door closed behind him.
For a moment, nothing changed. We were still sitting there. Still silent. Still eating or pretending to eat.
Then the air came back.
I felt it. The way the pressure in the room shifted. The way shoulders dropped just slightly. The way someone let out a breath they had been holding too long.
One of the girls started crying.
Not loud. She knew better. All she let out were soft, broken sounds that she tried to muffle with her hand.
Another of the girls reached over immediately. Put an arm around her shoulders and leaned in close.
"I’m so tired of being afraid," the crying girl whispered. Her voice shook. "I just want to leave this place."
The girl comforting her murmured something too low for me to hear.
Then her eyes lifted.
They found me.
I watched them darken. I watched something cold and sharp move across her face.
"The rumors about you were true after all," she said.
I set down my fork. "What rumors?"
"I saw your eyes," she said. Her voice was steady now. Harder. "When my father demanded how they be punished. Glee. You looked pleased."
"You’re sick," she added.
I frowned. "I only gave a response to what he asked me. I would have been punished if I didn’t give him one."
"No." She shook her head. "That isn’t the issue. We both know that isn’t the issue."
She gestured toward Lysander without looking at him. "Lysander is our father’s favorite. I see him when he bends the knee to our father and does something he doesn’t enjoy. Everyone can see how he punishes himself afterward."
"That’s enough," Lysander said.
His voice was quiet. Controlled.
His sister ignored him. "You know I’m not wrong. You must have seen it too. There’s something seriously wrong with the girl."
She turned back to me. "It’s no wonder she tried to take out her own sister. Kinslaying. Even her own pack sentinels aren’t safe. How are we sure she won’t—"
"Our guest deserves respect," Lysander cut in.
The sister stood. Her chair scraped back hard against the floor.
"Fuck Father," she said. Her voice was shaking now. "And fuck you for putting up with it because you don’t want to end up like us. Like Sofiane."
She stormed out.
The other girls followed. One by one. Their chairs pushed back. Their footsteps quick and uneven.
I dropped my cutlery.
The sound was louder than I expected.
"Excuse me," I said. "I’ll go for some air."


VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: To ruin an Omega