To ruin an Omega novel Chapter 350

Chapter 350: The Crash and the Burn

HAZEL

I watched something shift behind his eyes. A hardening. Like I’d finally pushed him past politeness into something sharper.

"Your compulsive nature," he said slowly, "is what led you here."

I opened my mouth.

He kept going.

"You don’t know your place in the grand scheme of things. You never have. That’s why you’re sitting at this table instead of being in control of your autonomy. That’s why your sister is living a far better life than you now. That’s why everyone who ever trusted you or holds your hand seems to end up worse for it and I bet they deserve it if they don’t see the signs sooner."

My chest tightened.

"And you still haven’t realized how far from grace you’ve fallen," he continued. His voice was calm. Measured. Each word landed with precision. "Because you’re already thinking about heat season. You just said it. Out loud. Which means you’ve thought about it. Hard."

I felt my face flush.

"That puts it into perspective, doesn’t it?" He tilted his head slightly. "The supposed great Hazel Hughes. Reduced to a scheming Omega plotting about which brother she can manipulate into her bed during heat."

"I wasn’t—"

"You were." He cut me off cleanly. "And it repulses me."

The word hung there between us.

Repulses.

"Even under the influence of the worst kind of heat," he said, "I wouldn’t touch you."

I forced myself to hold his gaze.

"And I trust my brother wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole either. He might have Daddy issues. We might all have it. But we have some class." He picked up his knife, cut into what was left on his plate. "You’re not the right color anyway."

My nails dug into my palms under the table.

He chewed. Swallowed. Took a sip of water even.

"My advice, stop scheming," he said finally. "Start assimilating. Or you will face an even worse fate soon."

"Assimilating," I repeated. My voice came out flat. "Into what exactly? Your world where it is starting to feel like women get caned for holding hands wrong? Where your father gets to decide who suffers and when?"

"Into reality." He didn’t look up from his plate. "The one where you have no power. No leverage. No allies. The one where your best option is to be quiet, obedient, and unremarkable. If you cannot handle it, leave."

"That’s not reality," I said. "That’s surrender."

"Call it what you want." He speared a piece of vegetable. "But if you keep pushing, keep testing, keep trying to turn people against each other or into your pawns, you won’t last long enough to see another heat season."

I leaned forward.

"You think you’re so different from your father," I said. "You think because you feel bad about it, because you punish yourself afterward, that makes you better. But you’re not. You’re just a coward with a conscience."

His fork paused halfway to his mouth.

"You let him terrorize your siblings," I continued. "You let him cut and hurt servants. You sit there and eat while people cry and you tell yourself it’s fine because you feel guilty later. That’s pathetic. You and I... We are the same. So don’t you fucking judge me."

He set the fork down and looked at me.

"I’m not my father," he said quietly. "And you and I... We are not the fucking same. If I was, trust me, with the amount of rules you just broke, I would have a field day with your ass."

"You’re right." I smiled. "You’re worse. Because he doesn’t pretend to care."

His jaw worked.

But he didn’t snap. He didn’t raise his voice either or lose control.

Instead, he picked up his fork again and finished his meal. Every bite slow and deliberate. Like I wasn’t even there. Like I hadn’t just said any of that.

When his plate was empty, he dabbed his mouth with his napkin, folded it, set it down and then looked at me.

"Lovely talk," he said.

Then he stood and walked out.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

I sat there alone.

My hands were shaking.

Not from fear. From rage. Pure, hot, burning rage that had nowhere to go.

He had beaten me. Again. Every single point I tried to make, every jab I threw, he deflected or turned back on me. And he did it while staying calm. While finishing his breakfast like we were discussing the weather.

Oh. I hated him.

I hated that he was right about some of it. I hated that I had thought about heat season. I hated that I’d let it slip. I hated that he saw through me so easily and I couldn’t do the same to him and with similar intensity.

I shoved my chair back hard enough that it scraped loudly against the floor.

Then I walked out.

The hallway was cooler. Quieter. My footsteps echoed as I moved toward the front entrance, toward air that didn’t feel like it was pressing down on my lungs.

When I reached the door, I saw Laslo standing just outside.

He turned when he heard me. His expression shifted immediately. He took in whatever was written on my face and his posture straightened.

He bowed slightly.

"Was there a difficult conversation?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said.

I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I doubted he cared anyway.

"Can I have my phone back now?" I asked. "It’s morning."

"Of course." He reached into his jacket pocket. "I was going to give it to you after breakfast."

He pulled it out and was about to hand it to me. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

That when my stomach growled in the loudest and insufferable way..

His hand stopped.

He pulled the phone back just before my fingers could close around it.

"Are you still hungry, Miss Hazel?" he asked.

I stared at him.

"Give me the phone," I said. "I’ll eat when I’m done with it."

His demeanor changed slightly then returned to normal which made me wonder what I did wrong.

He looked at me solemnly. His expression didn’t change further but something in his eyes grew firmer.

"You asked me to call you to order anytime you dissent," he said. "So I will call you to order right now."

I felt my teeth grind together.

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