To ruin an Omega - Chapter 463: Supress

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.

“Make sure you close the deal with her. I’ve invested considerable effort into this arrangement.”

“I understand.”

The door closed behind me and I stood in the hallway for a long moment. My heart hammered against my ribs hard enough that I could feel it in my throat. The conversation had given me what I needed: confirmation that my father would be exactly where I expected him to be during heat season, locked away and vulnerable in ways he wouldn’t be otherwise.

I pushed away from the door and headed toward the infirmary.

The walk took longer than I remembered. The hallways twisted and turned through the main house in patterns that should have been familiar after a lifetime of living here but somehow still felt foreign. Maybe that was just my state of mind. Maybe everything felt foreign now that I’d committed to a course of action that would change everything.

The infirmary sat in the east wing, accessible through a side entrance that stayed open at all hours for emergencies. I pushed through the door and found myself in a sterile white space that smelled like antiseptic and herbs.

A healer looked up from the counter where he’d been organizing supplies. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized me.

“Alpha Lysander.” He set down whatever he’d been holding and straightened. “This is unexpected. The Askers have great genetics and it’s surprising that I would see you here. What can I help you with?”

I moved deeper into the room and kept my voice low.

“I want suppressants.”

The healer blinked. Surprise flickered across his features before he managed to school them back into professional neutrality.

“Suppressants? For heat season?”

“The strongest that you have.”

He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with the request but not quite willing to refuse outright.

“May I ask if you do not want to participate in the heat? There are benefits to allowing the natural cycle to progress, especially for Alphas. It helps maintain hormonal balance and strengthens pack bonds. The biological imperative serves important functions beyond just reproduction, and suppressing it can have consequences that—”

“I’d know my place if I were you.”

The words came out sharper than I intended. Cold enough to cut through whatever well-meaning lecture he’d been building toward. His mouth snapped shut and something like fear crossed his face before he managed to hide it.

“Of course. My apologies.” He bowed slightly. “I’ll get what you need.”

He disappeared into the back room. I stayed where I was and listened to him moving around, opening cabinets and rifling through supplies. The wait felt longer than it probably was. Every second stretched while my mind turned over plans and contingencies and all the ways this could go wrong.

The healer returned carrying a small bottle filled with white tablets. He set it on the counter between us, and his professional demeanor had returned, though wariness still lurked beneath it.

“Three if you want it at its strongest,” he said. His finger tapped the label where dosage instructions were printed in small text. “But it doesn’t kill heat. Considering you’re an Alpha, it just fucks with your hormones. Makes them unstable. The suppression is temporary at best, and it will come back to bite you, which is why I do not recommend—”

I grabbed the bottle before he could finish. The plastic felt light in my hand, almost insignificant given what it represented.

“Thank you.”

I turned and walked out before he could add anything else. Before he could ask questions I didn’t want to answer or offer more unsolicited advice about biological imperatives and natural cycles.

The hallway outside felt cooler than the infirmary. I pocketed the suppressants and headed back toward my quarters, my mind already moving ahead to the next steps. The tablets would keep me functional during heat season when everyone else lost themselves to instinct. They would give me the clarity I needed to do what had to be done.

My mother’s voice echoed in my memory: “You cannot love a monster to goodness. If you keep obeying, you are just as bad as him.”

The tie in my pocket seemed to grow heavier with each step. I thought about my father locked in my mother’s room during heat season. Thought about him vulnerable and isolated in ways he never allowed himself to be otherwise. Thought about how easy it would be to walk in there and finish what I’d started the moment I decided he had to die.

The suppressants rattled softly in the bottle as I walked. Three tablets to fuck with my hormones and keep me clear-headed while everyone else descended into biological chaos. Three tablets to give me the opportunity I needed.

Three tablets to make sure I didn’t lose my nerve when the moment came.

I reached my room and locked the door behind me. The bottle sat in my palm and I stared at it for a long moment, turning it over and watching the tablets shift inside. Such small things with such significant consequences.

My father thought he had everything planned out. He thought he could control events and people with the same cold precision he applied to everything else. He was so sure his plans for Hazel and Fia and the heat season would unfold exactly as he envisioned.

He had no idea what was actually coming.

I set the bottle on my nightstand and sat on the edge of my bed. The room felt too quiet. Too still. I thought about dinner in a few hours, about sitting across from my father and pretending everything was normal. About looking him in the eye and lying with every word while knowing what I intended to do.

The weight of it pressed down on my shoulders. Heavy and unavoidable.

But necessary.

I thought about Fia. About the way she’d looked at me during our brief encounters. About the freedom she’d represented without even knowing it. About how my obsession with her had been less about her specifically and more about what she symbolized: escape, possibility, a life beyond my father’s shadow.

She would never be mine. I’d accepted that. But maybe… mother’s apparition had been right, maybe her existence had still served a purpose. Maybe she’d been the catalyst I needed to finally see my father for what he was and find the strength to do something about it.

I pulled the tie from my pocket and held it between my hands. The silk felt smooth against my palms. Familiar. I’d practiced with it enough times to know exactly how it would feel when the moment came. Exactly how much pressure to apply and for how long.

Goddess… How I hated myself