Todos os capítulos de Rise Of The Betrayed Omega : Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

**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

**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** "For starters, you're injured and moving with obvious difficulty." The elder's eyes sweep over me, cataloging every flaw. "You don't look like someone capable of caring for herself, let alone a one-year-old pup who requires constant supervision and physical care." "These injuries are temporary," I say firmly. "They'll heal—" "But will they heal in time for you to properly care for Noah starting today?" Cole leans forward, his expression appropriately worried. "We can all see that Stella can barely stand without help. How is she supposed to lift Noah? Change his diapers? Chase after him when he gets into things?" "I can manage—" "Can you?" Sabrina cuts in, her voice soft, and deceptively concerned. "Because you look like you should be in a hospital bed, not trying to take custody of a toddler." "If that's the issue, we'd like to request a brief medical evaluation today," Diane interjects smoothly. "Have a doctor examine Miss Matthews' injuries and provide a profe

**Stella's POV** "Until we can verify Miss Matthews' means of income, and the circumstances surrounding these injuries." Elder Morrison closes her folder. "I'd estimate... five to seven business days." "A WEEK?" The scream tears out of me. "You're taking my son for a WEEK?" "Miss Matthews, calm down—" "NO!" I'm shaking now, and Noah's crying in my arms as I lose control. "You can't do this! The Council already ruled! You can't just—" "I can and I am." Elder Morrison stands as well. "For Noah's safety and wellbeing, this is the right decision." "Safety?" I laugh, the sound unhinged. "You're worried about his safety? His father cheated on me! His father isolated me, controlled me, destroyed me! And you're giving him back to—" "Stella." Diane's hand is on my arm. "You need to stop talking. Now." But I can't hold back the words that have been building for years. "You're giving my son to the man who made my life hell!" I'm shouting now, tears streaming down my face. "To t

**Stella's POV** "Thanks. So kind of you to notice." I start to close the door. "Now leave." His hand shoots out, catching the door. "Get dressed. We're going out." "I said I don't want to—" "And I said I'd answer your questions." He raises an eyebrow. "Or were you lying about wanting answers?" Damn him. "Fine." I turn away, heading back to my room. "Give me ten minutes." "Five." "Ten," I snap over my shoulder. "Or I'm not going at all." I hear his low chuckle behind me. "Deal." --- Twenty minutes later—because I'm petty like that—I emerge wearing leggings, an oversized hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled low over my face. Shawn is leaning against my kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone. He looks up when I enter, one eyebrow rising. "Trying not to be recognized?" he asks. "Trying not to be kidnapped again," I correct. "There's a difference." "Fair enough." He pockets his phone and gestures to the door. "Ready?" "No." "Good enough." We leave th