To ruin an Omega Nov Chapter 194: Hazel must die

Chapter 194: Hazel must die

FIA

Gabriel Donlon...

The na sat in crisp black lettering on the card, plain and unadorned, like it had no idea what it was capable of doing to .

There was no title at the top. There was no address either. What was present was just the na and a phone number printed beneath it. It looked neat and sothing about its simplistic nature scread confident. The kind of confidence that ca from knowing doors would open if you knocked on the right ones.

My fingers curled around the card before I realized what I was doing. The edge bent under the pressure, just a little, enough to leave a crease.

I had braced myself for Aldric. I had rehearsed that betrayal to continue in my head so many tis it almost felt inevitable, sothing I could survive because I had already mourned it in advance. But Gabriel was different. Gabriel was the uncle I had never t, the one Cian never spoke about unless it was to warn soone away, the one whose na always ended conversations rather than starting them.

I had never t this great villain.

How did Hazel get this?

The question refused to leave

alone. It circled and circled, picking at

slowly. When had she gotten it? Had he been at the party, drifting through the crowd while Cian and I danced and laughed and pretended the world was not sharpening knives behind our backs? Or had it happened earlier, sowhere quieter, sowhere more deliberate? What plans were forming while we were still blissfully unaware that anything was wrong.

My heart was pounding hard enough that it felt intrusive, like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I swallowed, once, then again, trying to force air down into my lungs in a way that felt normal. Were Aldric and Gabriel working together? Because if j tossed the thought around, it made sense that Aldric would be the one to hand sothing like this over. And if he was in cohorts with his brother, which he probably was, then it was not wrong to assu.

The thought made my stomach roll, slow and sick. I tried to imagine what Gabriel Donlon or Aldric would want with Hazel and ca up with nothing that ended well.

The pieces were fitting together whether I wanted them to or not. If Hazel had Gabriel’s card, if there had been communication, then this was not just pack politics, Hazel’s strange rivalry or petty ambition anymore. This was personal. This could touch . Hell, this would touch Cian. And if I was right, then demotion was not even close to enough.

Hazel could not survive this. I could not let that happen.

The realization landed hard. It was an ugly and undeniable conclusion. Bile crept up the back of my throat and I fought the urge to gag. The fact that I was even capable of thinking this way, of weighing her death like a strategic move instead of the end of a life, made my skin itch with sothing like sha. But if Hazel was aligning herself with Gabriel Donlon, then trouble would co for Cian and for

whether we invited it or not.

I looked up at Baruch, forcing my expression into sothing steady. "Did she say anything about this?"

"No." He shook his head. "But I saw how she treated it. I have watched her long enough to know when sothing matters to her. And the na Donlon..." He hesitated, studying my face. "That is your husband’s house, is it not?"

"It is," I said. The words felt thin in my mouth. "Cian’s uncle. A vile man. One who vanished after everything he did."

Baruch absorbed that without visible reaction, but I saw understanding settle in his eyes, quiet and heavy.

I let out a long breath, slower than the one before it, feeling the weight of the decision I was about to make settle across my shoulders. "I will help you," I said. "But understand this clearly. I am doing it to protect myself. And because your grandmother has no part in this. She does not deserve to suffer for pack gas and ambition."

He nodded once, sharp and decisive, like a man who had already accepted the cost.

"Send

the audio," I said. "I will need it as a trump card."

He did not argue. He pulled out his phone, fingers moving quickly. "Give

yours."

I passed it to him and watched him work. When he handed it back, it felt heavier in my palm, like the recording had added weight to it, like proof always did.

I turned toward the front seat. "Garrett."

He t my eyes in the rearview mirror, attentive, unreadable.

"Did you find anything on Madeline or Ronan after we spoke yesterday?"

His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. He kept his gaze on the road, but his jaw worked, a small tell that told

everything I needed to know.

"There was nothing with the witch," he said. "She was asleep the entire ti."

I waited. The silence stretched, thick and deliberate. There was more. I could hear it in the way he drew breath, like he was bracing himself.

"But?" I said.

"There was sothing else."

"What?"

The car leaned into a turn, trees blurring past the windows, the world outside feeling oddly distant.

"Beta Ronan," Garrett said. "He visited Alpha Aldric."

Ice flooded my veins. The chill started at the base of my skull and raced down my spine, spreading through my limbs until my fingers felt numb. It was confirmation. All my suspicions, all the small monts that had not quite fit together, crystallized into certainty.

I had been right. All along.

"What did they say?" My voice ca out steadier than I felt.

"I could not get close." Garrett’s tone was apologetic but firm. "It was risky enough that I was tailing him. I would have given myself away if I tried to get closer or fish for more information."

He took a deep breath, and I saw his shoulders rise and fall with it.

"But it is odd," he continued. "Beta Ronan’s mother hates Alpha Aldric. She has never made any attempt to hide it. So the fact that Alpha Aldric and Beta Ronan could have any kind of relationship..." He trailed off, but the implication hung in the air between us.

"I agree," I said. "It is very odd."

Too odd to be coincidence. Too convenient to be innocent.

My eyes drifted back toward the front windshield. The landscape had changed while we talked, shifting from the wild forests of Skollrend territory to sothing more cultivated, more controlled. Stone walls lined the road now, marking boundaries I had not thought about for a while now.

We were arriving at Silver Creek.

My intestines tightened, twisting into knots that made it hard to sit still. We passed through the gate, the iron bars swinging open with practiced ease, and I realized with sudden, crushing clarity that I was back ho.

Or what used to be ho.

The estate spread out before us, exactly as I rembered it and completely different all at once. The main house stood tall and proud, its stone facade gleaming in the morning light. Gardens stretched out on either side, perfectly manicured hedges and flowering plants arranged with deliberate care. It should have felt welcoming. It should have felt like coming back to sothing safe.

Instead, my chest felt tight.

I had grown up here. Run through these halls as a child. Sat at the long dining table and pretended to be part of a family that had never quite wanted . Every stone, every tree, every carefully placed flower bed held mories I had spent weeks trying to forget.

And now I was back.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the main entrance. The engine died, leaving us in sudden silence. Through the windshield, I could see figures moving towards us.

The emissaries from before.