To ruin an Omega

Chapter 236: Old Blood, Older Sins 2

LYSANDER

My father smiled again. It was colder this time.

“Blood has memories,” he said. “And certain good actors took it upon themselves to recreate what was lost.”

My eyes widened.

“Fleshcraft.”

I adjusted in my seat and leaned forward.

“Father, that’s a crime. An actual punishable crime.”

He waved a hand dismissively.

“I didn’t demand fleshcraft be performed or that I needed that specific kind of healer. I know to use my words carefully. And I documented everything I talked about with Pauline Strati. There is nothing that Lily of the Valley stands to lose in this.”

I leaned back. My mind was still trying to catch up to what he was telling me.

“Except for one little thing,” I said.

“What is that?”

I met his eyes.

“Did your promise to the Stratis include that I actually marry the Silver Creek girl?”

His eyebrow arched. The silence that followed felt deliberate.

“Why do you ask?” he said.

“I don’t intend to marry the girl.”

The words hung in the air between us. My father’s expression did not change. He did not look angry or surprised. He looked like he was calculating something.

“I see,” he said finally.

“Do you?” I asked.

He picked up his pen again and tapped it against the edge of the desk.

“You met someone at Silver Creek,” he said. It was not a question.

I said nothing.

“The current honorary Luna of Skollrend,” he continued. “Fia Donlon. Pauline told me all about it. I thought she had to be joking because my boy has never had eyes for anyone. Not since the bleeding spirit in the woods.”

I still said nothing.

He smiled. It was the kind of smile that made me feel like a child again. Like I had been caught sneaking sweets from the kitchen.

“Lysander,” he said, “you are my heir. You will marry who is advantageous to this pack. If that is Pauline Strati grandchild, then so be it. In the future, we can discuss an additional bride if you crave it that much, someone with a befitting status. But even then, even if there has to be someone else, we will discuss it. But right now, you will not throw away an alliance because you met a married Omega girl at a trial. What even is that about?”

I leaned forward again.

“She’s not just an Omega girl,” I said.

“No,” my father agreed. “She’s a married woman. Which makes this conversation even more pointless.”

I clenched my jaw. “What if I told you she is the girl I saw that evening? The girl everyone then claimed was a spirit in the woods. A trick on my mind. Despite the very real blood on my hands.”

I watched it land.

For the first time since I walked into that office, my father froze.

The tapping stopped mid motion. The pen hovered above the desk, suspended between intention and denial. His eyes sharpened, not with anger, not with disbelief, but with something far more dangerous. Recognition fighting instinct.

“What did you say?” he asked, as controlled as he could manage.

I did not repeat myself.

His gaze dropped, just for a second, and in that second I saw it. The crack. The fracture line he never let anyone glimpse. His jaw tightened. The muscle there jumped once, twice, then stilled as he forced his expression back into place. When he finally set the pen down, he did it carefully, aligning it with the edge of the blotter as though the world would tilt if he did not.

“The girl in the woods,” he said slowly. “That night.”

“Yes.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before. It pressed against my ears, against my ribs. I could hear my own breathing and the faint crackle of the hearth behind him.

“That is not possible,” he said.

“You said that,” I replied. “Everyone, including you called her a spirit. A trick of grief. A hallucination brought on by my mind.”

His eyes lifted to mine. Sharp, as it was assessing.

“You were barely more than a boy,” he said. “The healers theorized you probably killed a small animal to cope and blocked it out because you knew your late mother did not like senseless murder.”

“I know what I saw then,” I maintained. “And she still the same person I saw today. And I don’t want Hazel. I want her.”

Father sighed and rubbed his temples with his hands.

“Lysander, I need you to focus. This alliance with Silver Creek is about more than a healer. It’s about positioning ourselves for what’s coming. The old powers are stirring. I am sure even the goddess is restless. And when the dust settles, I intend for Lily of the Valley to be standing at the top. We will not be that if we do not have a powerful healer in the shadows working for this pack.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you will be a disappointment,” he said simply. “And I do not raise disappointments. You are not your brothers. You are the best of them. Do not disappoint me.”

I stood. The chair scraped against the floor.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

“You’ll do more than think,” he replied. “You’ll obey.”

I turned and walked toward the door. My hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Lysander.”

I stopped but did not turn around.

“You carry my blood,” he said. His voice had dropped, stripped of patience, stripped of control. “That blood built this pack. It buried its enemies. It decided who lived comfortably and who begged at our gates.”

It was getting to threats now.

“So understand this. If you step outside the path I set for you, I will not follow. I will not soften. And I will not protect you from the consequences of daring to stand alone.”

I finally turned my head, just enough to glance back at him.

“If you force my hand,” he said calmly, “I will break what you are reaching for. Not because I hate you, but because packs survive when heirs remember who they belong to.”

His gaze locked onto mine, unwavering.

“Decide carefully, my son. Or you’re about to be painfully reminded that disobedience is not a luxury you can afford. he said. “Disobedience will get you killed. The other will make you a king.”

Then just like that, he was done.

I didn’t bother trading words back. I simply opened the door and stepped out. The sentinels bowed again as I passed. This time however, I did not acknowledge them.