To ruin an Omega novel Chapter 463

Chapter 463: Supress

LYSANDER

The hallway to my father’s study stretched longer than it should have. Each step carried weight I couldn’t shake, and my hands stayed buried in my pockets where nobody could see them trembling. The tie I’d wrapped around them earlier still sat folded in my jacket, a reminder of decisions I’d already made but hadn’t acted on yet.

I stopped outside the door and steadied my breathing before knocking.

"Come in."

His voice cut through the wood, sharp and commanding even through the barrier. I pushed the door open and found him exactly where I expected: hunched over his desk, surrounded by papers and documents that looked like they’d been there for hours. The lamp cast harsh shadows across his face and made the angles sharper than they already were.

He didn’t look up when I entered.

"Would you not be coming for dinner?"

The question came out more casual than I felt. I kept my posture relaxed, hands still in my pockets, like I’d just wandered in out of boredom rather than purpose.

My father’s eyes lifted from the documents. He studied me with that calculating gaze that always made me feel like he could see straight through whatever façade I wore.

"That cannot be why you’re really here."

The statement landed flat and certain, leaving absolutely no room for argument or deflection. I held his stare and forced myself not to look away first.

"It’s confirmed now," I said, shifting my weight slightly. "When the heat is taking place. I wanted to know if you would be putting a hold on your plans about the girl, given what will be happening."

His expression didn’t change. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach in a gesture that looked deceptively relaxed.

"It does not hinder anything." The words came measured and deliberate. "Hazel gives me her answer tonight, and we work tomorrow. If it works tomorrow, we get the girl and keep her. Skollrend will have plenty on their hands when heat lands on them, and a whole day is a lot of time to muddy evidence of kidnap."

The casualness with which he discussed kidnapping another pack’s Luna made my stomach turn. I kept my face neutral and pushed the reaction down where it couldn’t show.

"And if it does not work tomorrow?"

My father tilted his head slightly, considering the question as if it held some weight worth examining.

"Well, that is a possibility. She might need time to get the job done." He paused, fingers tapping against his desk in a rhythm that grated on my nerves. "But if that happens, the heat goes as planned. We adjust. We wait. We strike when the opportunity does presents itself. I can be a very patient man."

I nodded slowly, processing the information while my mind raced through implications and timelines.

"Would you be going to Moonhaven?"

The question came out before I could stop it. I knew the answer already but needed to hear it confirmed. Needed to know for certain that the opening I’d been counting on would actually exist.

My father laughed. The sound came cold and humorless.

"When have I ever?"

Never. He’d never gone to Moonhaven or any other retreat designed for mated pairs during heat season. Even though they had packages of widows and widowers. Instead, he locked himself in my mother’s old room and subjected himself to some twisted form of penance that he claimed demonstrated his devotion to her memory. The masochistic ritual had continued for years after her death, and apparently, nothing would change that pattern now.

Relief flooded through me. I kept it off my face.

"What about you?" my father asked, turning the question back on me.

I shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "I might go to Moonhaven."

His expression shifted immediately. The casual interest vanished and replaced itself with something harder and more focused.

"Do not be dumb." He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the desk. "Businesswise, it is time you lock in with Pauline’s granddaughter. Push her to want to say yes. Stay in Lily of the Valley. Help each other out through the heat."

The suggestion made my skin crawl. The idea of spending heat season with Hazel, of using that biological vulnerability to manipulate her into thinking I might actually, in good faith, begin to remotely accept our sort of union, hit every wrong note in my head.

I swallowed hard and forced the words out.

"Of course, if you insist."

"I do."

He smiled at me then. The expression looked warm on the surface, but held nothing underneath except cold calculation. This was my father’s version of affection: approval contingent on obedience, warmth dependent on compliance with his plans.

"Now you can leave," he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. "I will be there for dinner by the way."

I nodded and turned toward the door. My hand closed around the handle and I pulled it open, already halfway into the hallway when his voice stopped me.

"Lysander."

I looked back.

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