Chapter 147: ONLY CRAZY CAN HANDLE CRAZY

Torin

I dragged my hands down my face, the heavy soles of my dress shoes pacing a silent, agonizing rhythm into the plush Persian rug of my father’s study. Up and down. Four steps to the tall bookshelf, pivot, four steps back to the grand marble fireplace.

My chest felt suffocatingly tight. My pulse was hammering against my ribs, a jagged, relentless beat that had nothing to do with the quiet grandeur of the mansion around me and everything to do with the dark, silent screen of the phone gripped in my right hand.

9:30 PM.

She had been gone since eight o’clock this morning. Nearly fourteen hours. Fourteen hours of radio silence, I have no idea where she is. I had called Oracle twenty minutes ago, only to be met with deafening club music, a frantic shout over the bass, and then a flat, dead line.

What the hell is she doing? I thought, my jaw grinding so hard my back teeth ached. Is she safe? Is she bleeding out somewhere? Is Oracle keeping his hands to himself? Is she in pain?

The urge to pull up the central pack tracking application on my device was a physical, gnawing ache in my gut. I had installed the discreet signal relay on Oracle’s device months ago, a standard security measure for Spade pack members, or so I had rationalized to myself at the time. But I hadn’t tapped into it. I couldn’t.

If she found out I was tracking her, well Oracle.... any microscopic shred of progress I had made toward earning her forgiveness would be incinerated on the spot. She already looked at me like I was a monster. The absolute last thing I needed was to give her another reason to hate my guts.

"Torin," a heavy, resonant voice called from the doorway, cutting through my spiraling thoughts.

I froze, squeezing my eyes shut for a fraction of a second to force down the desperate, pathetic panic clawing at my throat. I turned to face my father, Jacob.

He stood tall, draped in a flawlessly tailored charcoal cardigan, his graying temple hair neatly combed back. His dark eyes were cold, sharp, and entirely unimpressed by my presence.

"Dinner is served," Jacob said flatly, not waiting for my response as he turned his back and walked down the grand hallway. "Your mother is waiting."

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and followed him. I hadn’t wanted to come here tonight. Goddess knows the absolute last thing I needed was to sit at a formal family dinner, enduring my father’s passive-aggressive digs while my entire pack was burning from the inside out.

But my mother, Yurena, had finally been discharged from New Hope two days ago and Jacob had made attendance non-negotiable.

The dining room was vast, illuminated by a massive crystal chandelier that cast a harsh, brilliant glare over the long, polished oak table. Despite the length of the table, my family sat clustered near the head, close enough that every breath, every clink of silverware, and every tense silences felt claustrophobically magnified.

My mother sat on Jacob’s left, her face pale, drawn, and unnaturally still. She looked like a fragile paper doll, a hollow shell of the sharp, ruthless woman who had once run this household. Beside her sat my other fathers, conversing in quiet, hushed tones about estate finances.

I pulled out my chair across from my mother, sitting down heavily. I placed my phone face-up on the white linen tablecloth right beside my silver napkin.

"It’s wonderful to have you home, my love," one of my fathers offered softly, placing a gentle hand over her frail wrist.

Yurena offered a faint, lifeless nod, her eyes staring blankly at the porcelain plate in front of her. "Thank you. It is... quiet."

I barely heard them. The second I picked up my fork, my gaze dropped back down to the dark glass of my phone screen. Nothing. No text from Oracle. No alert from security.

Did she collapse? My mind screamed, spiraling into terrible, vivid images of Lorali clutching her left shoulder, writhing in pain from the venomous bond while Oracle stood by helpless. Did the mark trigger a backlash? Is she lying on the floor somewhere while I sit here eating roast duck?

"Torin," Jacob’s voice sliced through the air like a cold blade.

I flinched, my eyes snapping up from the screen. My father was leaning back in his tall carved chair, flicking a heavy, critical eye over my rigid posture. "Is there something you would like to tell us?" Jacob asked, his tone dripping with quiet, icy authority.

"No, Father," I said smoothly, forcing my shoulders to relax as I picked up my water glass. "There is nothing I would like to tell you."

Jacob’s dark eyebrows pulled down into a sharp line. "Then why are you obsessively staring at your phone when we are trying to have a simple family dinner now that your mother is out of the hospital?"

"I apologize," I said, keeping my voice low and respectful, though my fingers twitched against the stem of the glass. "I am just handling some internal pack issues."

"Internal pack issues," Jacob repeated, tossing his linen napkin onto the table with a soft, dismissive thud. "You have been staring at your phone, since you walked through the front door. You are entirely absent."

I clamped my jaw shut, staring at my plate. I am absent because the only female who matters to me in this world is currently MIA with an Alpha brute, and I am losing my mind.

I forced myself to turn the phone face down, pushing it an inch away from my plate. "I’m focusing. My apologies."

For five agonizing minutes, the only sound in the room was the quiet scraping of knives against fine china. My fathers discussed finances. Jacob made passing comments about the family trust. My mother didn’t say a single word, staring blankly at her untouched vegetables.

It was agonizing. It was useless and every single second felt like a hot needle pressing into my skull. Lorali was out there. She was hurting. She hated me. And I was sitting here pretending to care about agriculture.

Unconsciously, my hand twitched. My fingers slid across the linen table, hooking around the corner of my phone, and I flipped it over. The screen remained pitch black.

"I have had enough of this," Jacob barked, slamming his palm against the polished oak.

The entire table went dead silent. My mother didn’t even flinch, she just closed her eyes slowly, as if used to the noise.

Jacob leaned forward, his heavy eyes boring straight into mine. "Tell me what is happening, Torin. Right now."

A dark, suffocating wave of defeat washed over me. I slumped back into my seat, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. "Fine. There are... some troubles that have been happening in my pack."

Jacob sneered, a sound of absolute contempt. "You cannot even manage your own pack? What is happening with you, boy? You look like a stressed dog chasing its own tail."

A sudden, hot flash of rage flared in my chest. This is all your fault, I screamed silently at his smug, judgmental face. You built this nightmare! You forced this onto us!

"I was handling my pack perfectly well," I said aloud, my voice dropping into a sharp, bitter edge, "before you made us bring in a Second Omega."

Jacob didn’t even blink. He casually reached for his wine glass, taking a slow sip. "Oh, well. The company needed an heir. I was helping your pack. And by the way, I still want my heir, Torin. I paid a lot of money. I pulled in a lot of heavy favors from the Alma Academy to get that Omega. And it has been over six months and I have yet to see an heir."

My stomach turned violently. You arrogant old bastard, I thought, my hands clenching into tight fists under the table. If you knew that it was this exact Omega who put your precious wife in a wheelchair, you wouldn’t be sitting there begging for a fucking heir from her.

"Well, you chose the wrong Omega," I snapped, staring him dead in the eye. "Because this one isn’t as docile as you think she is."

Jacob paused, his wine glass hovering an inch above the table. His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

I swallowed hard, the frantic warning bells ringing in the back of my head. I had to be careful. Extremely careful. If I gave Jacob even a hint that Lorali was the one responsible for Yurena’s crippled state, he would have her hunted down and killed before sunrise. My father’s cruelty knew no bounds when it came to protecting his own legacy.

"I mean," I began, picking my words with agonizing precision, "she is strong-willed. Extremely strong-willed. I am trying to coax her, to rebuild things now that I know she’s my fated, but... everything I do just makes her mad. She hates all of our guts."

Jacob stared at me for a long, silent moment. Then, his lip curled. "So what?"

"What do you mean, ’so what’?" I echoed, my voice cracking slightly with frustration. "You won’t get your heir! If she hates all of our guts! She won’t let any of us near her!"

Jacob broke into a low, rumbling laugh. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, it was cold, mocking, and entirely lacking in humor. He shook his head, looking at me as if I were a clueless child who had just failed a basic math test.

"So you are trying to coax her into liking you," Jacob said slowly, spelling out the words, "even though everything you do pisses her off?"

"Yeah," I grumbled, staring at my plate. Yeah, Father, what’s so hard to understand about that? I ruined her life, I let her get hurt, and now I’m trying to fix it.

Jacob slammed his hand onto the table again, a sharp CRACK that made the crystal glasses ring. "I have failed in teaching you how to be an Alpha!"

I snapped my head up, startled by the sudden venom in his voice.

"You do not coax an Omega when everything you do just pisses them off!" Jacob spat. "You cannot coax them! The only way you could ever rebuild your relationship or command respect is by using a dominant hand!"

I frowned, a knot of confusion forming in my chest. "What... what do you mean by that?"

"From what I can understand," Jacob said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark murmur, "this Omega that I pulled so many favors for your pack to get hates your guts. And I will not get my heir. That cannot happen. You cannot leave her to her own devices, Torin! If you continue to leave her to her own devices, she will never come back to your pack. In fact, this pack will end up with an heir that is not of our blood!"

He pointed a harsh, commanding finger straight at my chest.

"You have no idea what an Omega is capable of when she is angry," Jacob warned, his eyes flicking briefly toward my mother before locking back onto me. "Take your mother into consideration. She put us all through hell when she was angry! You cannot coax them. You need to use but a dominant hand. The more you coax, the further away they will go, especially in your case."

My heart was beating wildly against my ribs. "What am I supposed to do then?" Jacob sneered. "You know what you are supposed to do."

"I really don’t," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, feeling smaller than I had in years. "You need to tell me."

Jacob stood up from the table, pulling himself up to his full, imposing height. He looked down at me with utter disdain.

"You need to be the Head Alpha of the pack!" Jacob commanded, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You cannot be getting humbled by your Omega all the time! You need to be a dominant hand, Torin. If your Omega is crazy, you need to be crazy! Crazy wins crazy! How are you not understanding this?!"

He gripped the armrest of his chair so tightly the wood groaned under his strength.

"You cannot speak logic, and you cannot speak in sentences to a crazy person!" Jacob growled. "Your soft speech is nothing more than a mosquito buzzing in her ear! She doesn’t hear your repentance, Torin! She doesn’t care about your apologies! You need to rein her in!"

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open. "You... you want me to be the big bad wolf, basically."

"Yes!" Jacob barked, his eyes flashing with a terrifying, Alpha authority. "Yes, that is exactly what I want you to be! Don’t disappoint me, Torin. I need my heir."

I sat there in the sudden, ringing silence of the dining room, my mind spinning at a dizzying speed.

I looked down at my hands. I looked across the table at my mother, sitting pale, quiet, and completely neutralized in her chair. When I was growing up, she was wild. She had been destructive. She was impossible when her rage took over... until Jacob had reined her in.

He’s right, a dark, terrifying voice whispered in the back of my brain.

I had tried everything with Lorali. I had bowed my head. I begged. I had let her step on me, spit on me, and drag my pride through the dirt. I had given her space. I had let her walk around with Oracle, pretending I was respecting her boundaries. And where had it gotten me?

Nowhere.

She was still furious. She was still bleeding rage. Each time I tried to be gentle, each time I tried to apologize, it just pissed her off even more. She didn’t want a soft, repentant dog whimpering at her feet. She was on the absolute craziest side of life right now, unhinged, vengeful, and completely out of control.

She was capable of putting my mother in a wheelchair. She was capable of destroying everything I built.

She was crazy. And she needed to be roped in.

It wasn’t every day that I agreed with my father. I hated his coldness. I hated his arrogance. But looking at the cold, hard facts sitting in front of me tonight... he was right. My gentle approach was nothing more than a mosquito buzzing in her ear. It was time to stop buzzing.

A strange, dark calm washed over the panic in my chest, replacing the desperate, whimpering dog inside me with a sharp, icy clarity. I didn’t feel guilty anymore. I didn’t feel hesitant.

I looked up at my father, my eyes locking onto his with a cold, unyielding resolve.

"I will not fail you," I said smoothly.

I stood up from the table, taking my phone. Without even the slightest flicker of guilt, I unlocked the screen, bypassed the call logs, and tapped directly into the tracking app.

A bright red dot flashed instantly on the map.

High-rise club. 4th and Main.

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I pocketed the phone and turned toward the exit.