All Chapters of Rise Of The Betrayed Omega : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

**Stella's POV** I lift my chin, refusing to cower. "I'm just talking." "Talking." He steps into the cell, and I can smell stale beer and cigarettes on his breath. "That's funny. Because it sounded an awful lot like you were telling the other girls to fight back and resist." "So what if I was?" His smile widens. "So, little Omega, I'm going to teach you a lesson about what happens to mouthy bitches in my den." Before I can react, he lunges forward and grabs my arm. I try to pull away, but he's too strong. His fingers dig into my skin hard enough to bruise. "Let me go—" "Shut up." He yanks me toward him, and I smell something sharp and chemical. "You want to fight so bad? Fine. Let's see how brave you are after this." Something pricks my neck again. Fuck!!! He's drugging me again. "No—" I try to fight, but my limbs are already going numb. The room tilts. "No, please—" "Don't worry," he says, his voice fading in and out. "You'll wake up eventually. Somewhere much l

**Shawn's POV** I’ve heard enough. I drag a hand over my face, exhaling hard. Of all the shit I dealt with tonight, of course it has to come to this... I hate taking my shirt off in front of crowds... I hate the eyes, the gawking, and the way people stare like they’re entitled to look at me. But leaving her half-naked on a stage full of sex starved rogues isn’t an option. With a low curse, I grab the hem of my shirt and yank it over my head in one rough motion. The room reacts instantly. Female wolves inhale like I put on a show just for them. I ignore it. I always do. Attention is a weakness, and I don’t give a shit about being looked at. I toss the shirt onto the stage. “Put it on.” She hesitates, fingers trembling as she reaches for it. When she lifts her head just for a second, her eyes flick over my chest and my tattoos that disappear into my pants.... Her breath stutters and she jerks her gaze away, cheeks going red. I scowl. Great. Exactly why I hate exposing

**Stella's POV** "I don't have all night to wait for you to think. What will it be?" Shawn's deep voice brings me out of my daze. "I pick the first one," I whisper immediately. "Good." He immediately helps me into the passenger seat, his hands surprisingly gentle but I wince when I have to bend my ankle... He walks around to the driver's side without a word, and I can't help but watch the way his muscles move beneath tattooed skin. Stop it. Stop noticing him like that. He owns me... He gets in and starts the engine. For about five minutes, there's blessed silence, my mind races with unanswered questions. What does he want? Why spend that much? What's he going to do to me? And underneath those questions, another one I hate myself for thinking: Why is someone who looks like that need to buy someone to grace his bed?No, something isn't adding up... I look at him and decide to find out why he bought me. "I know your name," I finally say, breaking the silence.

**Stella's POV** Shawn is standing in the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Oh my goodness, are we getting straight to business? My breath catches in my throat. I jerk my eyes up to his face, heat flooding my cheeks so fast I feel dizzy. "You're done with your call?" I ask trying to buy time to mentally prepare myself for whatever he is about to demand... "Yes." He's watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes, and I wonder what he sees. A girl drowning in his robe or a sex slave he can't wait to devour... "I—" I stammer, clutching the robe tighter around myself. "I borrowed your robe. I didn't have anything else to—" "It's fine." His voice is flat, giving nothing away. We stand there in awkward silence. Him half-naked and devastatingly handsome in a way that makes my wolf whimper. Me drowning in his robe, hyper-aware of the fact that I'm wearing nothing underneath, that there's nothing between us but fabric and air and choices he could ma

**Stella's POV** My heart starts to pound faster at the thought. The street is right there. People everywhere. I could disappear into the crowd before Shawn even comes back. My feet shift. Then my body reminds me of the ache in my bones and the hollow exhaustion that rejection carved into me and left behind. Run where? Back to Cole? The image of my ex-mate flashes in my mind — his cold eyes, his rejection, the way he turned his back on me without hesitation. And the pups. My breath stutters. They’re with him. Still in his territory. Still under his control. If I show up like this, I won’t rescue anyone, I’ll just give him another reason to laugh at how pathetic I am. I curl my fingers into the fabric of the shirt. Not yet. I need strength. I need leverage. I need time. And right now, Shawn—however dangerous he is— is the only reason I’m still breathing. So I stay where I am. I sink into a chair near the window, trying to make myself invisible. Why did