Masuk**Stella's POV** Shawn's hands tighten on the wheel. "It's complicated." It's complicated?! I frown, wondering if that's all the explanation I will get. "That's not an answer." I force myself to look at him. "I almost died because of your debt. You owe me an explanation more than it's complicated." "I owed him for services rendered." His tone is flat, final. "That's all you need to know." "Services?" Anger cuts through the pain, sharp and clarifying. "What services cost enough to justify using someone's life as collateral?" "The expensive kind." "Shawn—" "Stella." He cuts me off, his eyes hard. "Drop it. You know enough." Something in me snaps. "I know ENOUGH?" The words explode out. "I was thrown in a cage! Used as leverage! Beaten until I couldn't stand! And you think I know enough?" "Yes." The single syllable is absolute. "No." I shake my head, fury building like a storm. "No, that's not how this works. You don't get to keep secrets after what happened. You
**Stella's POV** (Moments prior to Shawn finding Stella) My ribs scream with every breath, but I force myself upright against the wall. I need to get to Noah's pickup at 2 PM. The hospital clock reads 1:18 PM. That means that I still have forty-two minutes. 'But the Council building is two hours away. Can we make it?' Piper asks the obvious question I don't want to address. Panic claws at my throat, but I shove it down. I didn't survive hell just to give up now. My legs shake as I push off the wall. The IV line pulls taut, still embedded in my hand. I reach for it— "Stella." Shawn's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "What are you doing?" "Leaving." I keep my eyes fixed on the exit ahead, fingers wrapped around the IV. "The pickup is at 2 PM and I—" "You just had surgery." His footsteps approach fast and deliberately. "You need to—" "Don't." The word snaps out sharper than intended. I yank the IV out, blood blooming instantly across the back of my hand. "D
**Shawn's POV** The drive to the hospital is a blur of adrenaline and violated traffic laws. I weave through cars, run red lights, and ignore the blaring horns that follow in my wake. Stella is barely conscious in her seat, her breathing too shallow, and her skin too pale. Hold on, I think desperately. Just hold on a little longer. I screech into the emergency bay at 12:23 AM, barely putting the car in park before I'm out and carrying her toward the entrance. "I NEED HELP!" The shout tears out of my throat. "SOMEONE HELP!" Medical staff rush forward immediately—nurses, orderlies, someone wheeling a gurney. "Multiple injuries!" I'm talking fast as they take her from my arms and lay her on the gurney. "Broken ribs, glass embedded in her shoulder, possible head trauma—" "We've got her, sir." A doctor appears, already assessing Stella with clinical efficiency. "How long ago did this happen?" "Twenty minutes. Maybe less." "Conscious the whole time?" "In and out." Th
**Shawn's POV** I sprint toward Stella before my brain even registers the decision, my heart hammering so hard it feels like it might burst through my ribs. Please let her be alive. Behind me, Konstantin's voice rings out, cold and commanding. "Drop your weapons! All of you! Your boss is finished!" The sound of guns clattering to the ground. Hank's guards surrendering. But I don't care about any of that. All I care about is the spreading pool of blood, and the fact that I can't tell whose blood it is. I drop to my knees beside them, my hands already reaching for Stella. She's on top of Hank, their bodies tangled from the fall. Blood soaks through her fighting gear, dark and wet. I roll her off him carefully, my hands shaking. Her eyes flutter open. Oh, thank goddess she's alive. Relief hits me so hard I almost collapse. She's pale, gasping, clearly in pain, but her eyes are focused on my face. "Shawn?" Her voice is barely a whisper. "Did you... did you shoot me
**Shawn's POV** But I'm already moving, vaulting over the railing toward the arena floor. I hit the ground running, heading straight for the cage. "THAT'S SHAWN BLACK! SOMEONE GRAB THE OMEGA!" Hank's voice cuts through the chaos. "NOW!" Three guards break from their positions, sprinting toward the cage from different angles. I reach the chain-link fence first, grabbing the locked door and tearing it open with supernatural strength. But before I can step inside, the guards converge on Stella. One yanks her up by her hair. Another wraps his arm around her throat. The third presses a knife to her throat. "Back off!" the one with the knife snarls. "Back off or I open her throat!" I freeze, gun raised but useless. Three targets, all surrounding her. One wrong move and she's dead. Stella whimpers, barely conscious, her unfocused eyes trying to find me through the pain and fear. "That's right." Hank's voice echoes through the arena as he emerges from the shadows, flanke
** Shawn's POV** Hank's underground arena is exactly as horrible as I imagined. We enter through the main access tunnel, a concrete passage that slopes downward into the earth. Konstantin and I are dressed in tailored suits, expensive without being flashy. No need to play a role—we look exactly like the kind of men who would bankroll a place like this. Six of Konstantin's men accompany us, similarly dressed, playing the role of associates. The rest are positioned outside, ready to move when we give the signal. "Remember," I murmur to Konstantin as we approach the entrance. "We're just customers. Interested in the fights. Nothing more." "Da. I am excellent actor." His smile is all teeth. A guard stops us at the door—one of Hank's men, armed and suspicious. "Invitation?" he grunts. "We're associates of Sokolov," Konstantin says smoothly, dropping a name I recognize—one of Hank's regular high-rollers. "He told us about today's special event. Said there is a new fighter







