To ruin an Omega

Chapter 163: A Family of Beasts

HAZEL

My phone vibrated against my thigh. Once. Twice. Three times in quick succession. The screen lit up through the thin fabric of my dress, casting a pale glow that made my stomach clench.

Father.

I didn’t need to look to know. The buzzing continued, relentless and angry, each ring a demand I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Not here. Not with all these eyes on me.

The stares had started the moment I’d left that bathroom. Whispers followed me through the hallways like smoke, clinging to my skin, suffocating. I kept my head down, my broken hands tucked against my sides where the blood had finally stopped dripping but the pain still screamed with every heartbeat even if it was starting to heal now.

“Evil bitch.”

The words drifted from somewhere behind me. It was a woman’s voice, sharp with disgust.

“So cruel.”

Another voice joined in. Male this time. Deep and condemning.

“Goddess, she reeks of wickedness.”

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. How dare they. How fucking dare they judge me when half of them probably had secrets just as dark. Darker, even. They just hadn’t had theirs ripped open and displayed for everyone to see. They hadn’t been exposed the way I had.

The phone buzzed again. And again. The vibrations felt like accusations.

I pressed my ruined hands tighter against my dress and kept walking. Each step was deliberate. Measured. I wouldn’t run. Wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me scatter like a frightened animal.

But inside, everything was collapsing.

This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. I was supposed to walk into this gathering and steal the attention of every unmated Alpha in the room. I was supposed to remind Fia of her place at the bottom where she belonged. Instead, the table had turned and I was the one being ground into the dirt.

The phone went silent for exactly three seconds before my mother’s text came through. I felt the buzz pattern, different from a call. Shorter. More final.

I pulled the phone out with trembling fingers. The screen was smeared with dried blood, but I could still read the message clearly enough.

’Come to the parking lot or your father leaves you.’

My breath caught. Left me. Here. Like I was nothing more than trash to be discarded.

I stared at the words until they blurred. Until I had to blink to clear my vision. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be what my life had become.

But it was.

I turned toward the exit. My legs felt disconnected from my body, moving on autopilot while my mind screamed protests that went nowhere. The hallway stretched endlessly ahead, and behind me the whispers grew louder, bolder now that I was leaving.

Good riddance. I hoped they choked on their self-righteousness.

The cool night air hit my face when I pushed through the doors. It should have been refreshing after the stifling atmosphere inside, but instead it just made me feel more exposed. More vulnerable. I scanned the parking lot, looking for Father’s car among the rows of expensive vehicles that gleamed under the security lights.

There. I found him.

Near the back, away from the main entrance. Of course he’d park somewhere discrete. Somewhere he wouldn’t be seen associating with his disgrace of a daughter.

I walked toward it. Each step sent jolts of pain through my hands, but I barely felt it anymore. The physical pain had become background noise to the louder agony eating through my chest.

The car’s headlights flashed once. Twice. A signal. Or a warning.

I got closer. Father stood beside the driver’s side door, his silhouette rigid with fury even from a distance. Mother was near the passenger side, her posture tense. Waiting.

“Where were you?”

Father’s voice cut across the parking lot before I was even within normal speaking distance. His tone was cold and demanding.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. What was I supposed to say? That I’d been processing the complete destruction of my life? That I’d been trying not to fall apart in front of everyone who wanted to see me broken?

I reached them and stopped a few feet away. Father took a step toward me, closing the distance. His face was flushed, his jaw tight.

“I asked a question.”

His hand came up. Fast. Instinctive. I’d seen that motion a thousand times before but it had never been directed at me. Not like this. Not with this much rage behind it.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move. I just watched his palm rise and prepared for the impact.

“That is enough.”

Mother’s voice was sharp as she moved between us. Her hand caught Father’s wrist, stopping him mid-swing. She looked at him with an expression I couldn’t read in the dim light.

“We should just go.”

Father stared at her for a long moment. Then at me. Something ugly twisted across his face before he turned away, swearing under his breath. He yanked open the car door and dropped into the driver’s seat with enough force to rock the vehicle.

The engine roared to life. The headlights blazed bright, washing everything in harsh white light that made my eyes water. Or maybe that was something else entirely.

Mother grabbed my arm. Her fingers dug into my skin through the thin fabric of my dress.

“Just get in.” Her voice was low. Urgent. “Do not piss your father off.”

I let her pull me toward the car. Let her guide me into the back seat like I was a child who couldn’t manage on my own. Maybe I couldn’t. Maybe I’d lost the right to make my own decisions the moment everything had fallen apart.

The door slammed shut behind me. Mother climbed into the passenger seat. The Sentinel who’d been waiting in the driver’s seat beside Father started the car moving before I’d even fastened my seatbelt.

We pulled out of the parking lot in silence. Father’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles had gone white. His breathing was harsh, audible even over the hum of the engine.

“Fuck him.”

The words burst out of Father suddenly. Violently. Like they’d been building pressure and finally exploded.

I stared at the back of his head. Why was he so bothered? I was the one who’d been humiliated. I was the one whose reputation had been shredded in front of everyone. The story would spread to our pack before we even got home. The elders would demand answers. Justice. A retrial.

Hopefully Father would show his power for once and refuse that mess. Surely he had enough authority to push back.

“We need to talk about strategies.”

Mother’s voice broke through my thoughts. She’d turned in her seat to look at me, her expression composed in a way that felt forced. Manufactured.

“There will be questions when we get to the pack. Demands for fairness about what happened to the Sentinel Milo.”

The name hit me like cold water.

“What?”

The word came out sharper than I intended. Louder. Both my parents turned to look at me. Father’s eyes found mine in the rearview mirror, dark and warning.

“Please shut up right now.” Mother’s voice had gone hard. “We are trying to save you.”

“Why would I face a trial for Milo?” My voice pitched higher despite my efforts to control it. “He was killed by the judgment of the elder court. For rape. That still stands.”

Father laughed. The sound was bitter and humorless, bouncing around the car’s interior like broken glass.

“But that is not what you said in the tape.”

“I said I was trying to get on Fia’s skin!” The words exploded out of me. “I was trying to hurt her. That’s what I said.”

“Who will believe that?” Father’s voice dripped with scorn. He caught my eyes again in the mirror. “Even if that was the case, Skollrend wants you to face the elders for attempted murder. Do you know what the punishment for that is? Demotion.”

Demotion. The word should have terrified me. Should have been the worst possible outcome. But my mind had snagged on something else entirely.

The murder charge. The accusation that I’d framed Milo. That I’d lied about the rape. That I’d gotten an innocent man killed.

The punishment for murder wasn’t demotion.

It was death.

My hands started shaking. The pain from my broken fingers flared hot and sharp, but it was nothing compared to the ice spreading through my chest.

I couldn’t die. I couldn’t. Not like this. Not for something that should have stayed buried.

Mother reached back and grabbed my hand. I gasped at the contact, at the way it sent agony shooting up my arm. She didn’t let go.

“Do not worry.” Her voice had softened, become almost soothing. “We will find a way around this. Milo’s case can be put aside and killed before it gains any traction. We just have to make sure he doesn’t have any family that still holds resentment for what happened to him.”

“You think we have money to just give around?” Father’s voice rose again. “It would make us look fucking guilty. Susceptible to blackmail.”

“Get with the times, Joseph.” Mother’s tone turned sharp. Impatient. “You cannot be that naive. We have to kill them. Anyone with a trace of his blood needs to die.”

The words hung in the air. Casual. Matter of fact. Like she was discussing what to have for dinner instead of planning multiple murders.

My parents kept talking. Planning. Arguing about logistics and timing and who would be easiest to eliminate first. It was clear they didn’t even know anything about the sentinel and honestly, neither did I. Their voices blurred together into white noise that I couldn’t process.

My clutch sat in my lap. The small black bag felt heavier than it should. I opened it with trembling fingers, careful not to jostle my broken hand too much.

The business card was still there. Pristine white against the dark lining. I pulled it out, angling it to catch the light from passing streetlamps.

The text was simple. A phone number. Nothing else.

Save as Gabriel, Aldric had said.

I didn’t know who Gabriel was. Didn’t know what Aldric’s endgame was or why he’d been so interested in Fia’s mother. But right now, staring at this card while my parents planned to murder innocent people to cover up my crimes, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

I needed salvation.

More than ever. More than anything.

There was no way my story was ending here. No way I was going down for this. Not when I’d come so close to having everything I wanted. Not when Fia was supposed to be the one suffering, not me.

I closed my fingers around the card. The edges bit into my palm, sharp and real and solid.

Never.

My story wasn’t ending here.

It couldn’t.