To ruin an Omega - Chapter 457: Icarus 1

Chapter 457: Icarus 1

HAZEL

I reached for the door handle and stopped.

The thought of Laslo stepping inside again made my skin crawl. I had been trying to think of ways to get him out, to reclaim even a sliver of privacy in this nightmare, when I heard his footsteps stop behind me.

I turned, and that was when he bowed.

I stared at him. My hand was still on the door handle. My mouth opened, then closed.

“What is happening?” I asked.

“This is a thank you from Alpha Wenzel, Mistress Hazel,” Laslo said. His voice was even, formal. “He believes you deserve some privacy.”

I nearly scoffed. The sound caught in my throat, and I forced it into a smile instead.

Manipulation. That was all this was. A favor that was not a favor. A gesture designed to make me feel indebted. Like he was doing me some great kindness by not having me watched every second of the day.

“I thank him,” I said.

“I will make sure he knows.”

I hesitated. The words were already forming before I could think them through.

“I apologize for being forward,” I said, “but can I have Delta here?”

Laslo did not react. He simply nodded.

“Of course, Mistress Hazel.”

“Thank you.”

He turned and left. I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.

The silence pressed in. I leaned against the door and exhaled slowly. My hands were shaking again. I pressed them together and tried to steady my breathing.

Pauline…

I pulled out my phone and tried her number again.

The call failed.

I tried again.

Failed.

Frustration clawed at my chest. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the phone across the room and watch it shatter. But I did not. I just stood there, staring at the screen, willing it to connect.

It did not.

So I called my mother instead.

She picked up on the third ring.

“Hazel…”

Her voice was wrong. Too soft. Too fragile.

“Mother,” I said. “Grandmother is practically useless. She is not fond of keeping her word. I am in a bind here. I feel abandoned, and she is the reason I am even in this mess. Can you fucking call her… Perhaps she is ignoring my calls or something… But…”

I kept talking. The words spilled out faster than I could stop them. Anger, fear, and desperation all tangled together.

Then I noticed… My mother was crying.

That sort of stopped mid-sentence.

“What is wrong?”

There was a pause. A long, terrible pause.

“She is dead,” my mother said.

The words did not land right away. They hovered in the air, distant and unreal.

“What?”

“My mother is dead.” Her voice cracked. “Word got to me not too long ago. She took her life.”

Goosebumps spread across my skin.

“I cannot just believe this,” my mother continued. “She was so strong. She was—”

I hung up.

My hand dropped to my side. The phone slipped from my fingers and hit the floor.

Pauline was dead? Pauline was dead…

Pauline, who had promised to protect me. Pauline, who had sent me here. Pauline, who had sworn she would pull the strings, get me that drug, and keep me safe.

She was dead.

The universe was telling me something. It had to be. This was a sign. A warning. My scheme would fail. Everything would fail.

My chest tightened. The air felt too thin. I tried to breathe, but it came in short, sharp gasps that did not reach my lungs.

Panic clawed at me. My vision blurred at the edges. My hands trembled, and I could not stop them.

The door opened behind me.

“Mistress Hazel?”

Delta’s voice came from the doorway, but it sounded distant, like it had to travel through water to reach me.

I turned too fast. The room tilted for a second, the edges of it bending in a way that made no sense. I grabbed the side of the table to steady myself, my fingers slipping before they found purchase.

She stood there, watching me.

“You called for me.”

Of course I did. I must have. That was the plan. Keep Delta close. Stay in control. Stay—

My lungs refused to fill properly. I dragged in a breath, but it stopped halfway, caught somewhere tight in my chest. I tried again, slower this time, counting without meaning to.

One… Two…

Still not enough.

I bent slightly, pressing my palm harder against the table as if I could force the air into myself through sheer will. My other hand curled into a fist, nails biting into my skin. The sting helped. A little.

Pauline is dead.

The thought came back sharp and uninvited. Louder than everything else.

Dead.

I swallowed hard. My throat felt dry, tight, like I had forgotten how to use it.

Not now.

Not in front of her.

I straightened.

It took effort. More than it should have. My shoulders felt too heavy, like they did not belong to me, but I forced them back anyway. I lifted my chin, smoothed my expression into something neutral, something that could pass for calm if no one looked too closely.

Delta was still watching.

Her eyes flicked briefly to the phone on the floor, then back to my face.

She noticed.

Of course, she noticed.

“Come sit,” I said.

My voice came out wrong. Too thin. I cleared my throat quickly, forcing a small smile that did not quite reach my eyes.

“Come sit,” I repeated, softer this time, steadier, as though the first one had not happened.

Delta stepped inside, closing the door behind her, but she did not move immediately. There was hesitation in the way she held herself, like she was waiting for something else, some explanation I had not given.

I could feel it. That pause. That expectation.

It scraped against my nerves.

“Please sit,” I added, a little sharper than intended.

I inhaled again, slower, careful this time, making sure my chest rose the way it should. Making sure it looked normal.

Everything had to look normal.

We sat on the bed. I reached for her hand. She flinched, but she did not pull away.

“I know I have been mean to you,” I said. “But I need your help, Delta.”

She looked at our hands. Her fingers were cold.

“What help?”

“We are kin from the same pack,” I said. “We need to protect ourselves here.”

Delta did not respond.

“This pack scares me,” I continued. “I am sure it scares you, too.”

Her jaw tightened. For a moment, I thought she might pull away.

“If everyone does their part and does not break the rules,” she said slowly, “we are all cogs needed to make the machine work.”

I squeezed her hand.

“Please,” I said. “I am begging you. Shed that nonsense. We both know we do not believe it. Neither does anyone here, if we are being frank. They are afraid. They are all afraid.”

Delta looked at me. Really looked at me.

“I am too,” I said. My voice dropped lower. “But I have a plan.”

“You are not a kind woman to be trusted,” Delta said.