Semua Bab Rise Of The Betrayed Omega : Bab 231 - Bab 240

** Stella's POV** Ezekiel looks at Shawn once. Something brief and unreadable passes between them. Then he nods and gestures toward the car at the far end of the yard. "It would be my pleasure. Come on," he says. I follow him without looking back at Shawn... I'm done with being used as his pawn. I need to concentrate on me and my pups. --- Minutes later, the city moves past the window in streaks of amber and white. Ezekiel drives and talks. His voice fills the car — telling me how his screen lit up when the building exploded, how his stomach dropped when the heat signatures shifted, how he pushed the drones harder than he ever has. He tells me he was scared. He tells me that is not a feeling he is particularly accustomed to and that I am responsible for introducing it into his life, which he says with a tone that is trying to be light but isn't quite making it all the way there. I admit that I hear all of it but I am not listening to any of it. I am thinking about Shaw

**Shawn's POV** (Meanwhile on the other side of the city...) The human bar is packed and deafening with music and drunken laughter blending into a constant roar that makes it nearly impossible to think. That’s exactly why I chose it after the mess of a day Dmitri caused, I needed noise—something loud enough to drown out my thoughts while I sit at the counter, staring down at the glass in front of me. The bartender has already refilled it eleven times, yet the amber liquid still looks untouched as it reflects the dim lights above the bar. I swirl it slowly, pretending I’m focused on the drink. In truth, I’m trying very hard to think about nothing. But it’s useless. Every time I blink, the same image flashes behind my eyes—the explosion, the flames, Stella’s fragile body lying far too still, I thought she died and that clawed at something inside my chest. Something I believed died along with the last member of my family. 'Well,' my wolf’s voice rumbles inside my he

**Shawn's POV** I look at Abigail. She looks right back at me, chin lifted, keys already in her hand. There’s a calm certainty in her expression—the look of someone who has already made a decision and is simply waiting for me to catch up. Who the hell is this woman… and why does she smell familiar? I inhale at her scent again, subtle enough that no human wouldn’t notice me. Still nothing. Her scent sits at the edge of my mind, irritatingly out of reach. Not a memory exactly… more like the feeling of one. Like a word on the tip of my tongue that refuses to be spoken. I frown. “Listen, lady,” I say finally. “I appreciate the gesture. But I don’t need a babysitter.” “Good,” she replies immediately. “Because I’m not offering to babysit you.” She jingles the keys once. “I’m offering to drive you home so you don’t wrap yourself around a lamppost on the way out of the parking lot.” I scoff, shaking my head at her stubbornness. “If that’s your concern,” I say dryly, “I’ll take a

**Shawn's POV** 'You could have left them on when we left the house this morning,' my wolf slurs in my head, the words thick and drunken. I ignore him. I didn’t leave them on. I’m certain of it even though I'm drunk, yes. I never leave lights on when I leave a space. It's an old habit. One of many beaten into me so early that they stopped feeling like habits and became instinct. Someone is definitely in my apartment. 'Then let's see who’s inside,' my wolf growls immediately—a low, coiled tension in my chest that doesn’t wait for permission. He is ready before I have made a decision.... Whoever—or whatever—is in there won’t enjoy the next thirty seconds if I let him out. But I stop myself. I live in a human neighbourhood. On a public street. With the alcohol still warm in my blood and my control less reliable than I'd like it to be. It's not ideal conditions for shifting. I scan the entrance and then notice that there is no signs of forced entry. No broken glass. No

**Ezekiel's POV** Where is this little brat being hidden?! I clench my jaws in frustration because my monitors have been running all night with nothing to show especially now that Stella is on her way here.... What am I going to tell her when she gets here??? I sit in the blue light of the screens and look at the results and feel something I don't usually feel in this office. I feel like I have failed. Which is inconvenient. Because failing is not part of what I do. And it is certainly not part of the plan. I had pulled Maya's photograph through every system the moment Stella sent it through last night. Border crossing footage from the Black River pack going back a full week. Every vehicle movement within a thirty mile radius of the last known signal location. Missing persons databases across six territories — human and supernatural both. Nothing. Not a partial match. Not a ghost signal. Not a single frame of footage that shouldn't be there. Whoever took this pup