All Chapters of THE RISE OF A WORTHLESS OMEGA: Rescued By Three Alphas : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

POV: AylaThe grand hall feels different today. The polished wood and high windows no longer try to hide what this place is. It is a courtroom now. Every seat is filled. Every eye turns toward the center table where the council sits in a straight line of dark robes and heavier silence.I walk in between Ryker and Caius. Zane stays half a step behind, close enough that I feel the steady heat of him at my back. The bond between the four of us sits quiet and strong. No one speaks as we take our places.Dorian is already seated across the wide floor. His lawyers flank him. He wears the same careful expression he has always used for public rooms, but something in the set of his shoulders is tighter than usual. When I sit, his eyes find mine for a single second. Then they drop.The council chair clears his throat. “We reconvene for full consideration of the charges against Alpha Dorian Dravenmoor. The escalated filing includes illegal suppression of a White Luna, sustained physical abuse, c

POV: ZaneThe side chamber is smaller than the main hall and twice as quiet. No gallery. No polished speeches. Just a long table, four chairs on our side, and Nova sitting alone across from us with her wrists unbound but her options running out.I lean against the wall near the door and watch her. The perfect posture is still there. The careful tilt of the chin. But the emerald gown from yesterday is gone. She wears plain dark clothes and the expression of someone who has finally done the math and realized the numbers no longer work in her favor.Caius sits at the table with the formal offer in front of him. Ryker stands behind Ayla’s chair like a silent wall. Ayla herself sits straight, hands folded, face unreadable. The bond between us is tight and watchful. None of us speak first.Nova does.“I want a deal,” she says. Her voice is steady, but there is no performance left in it. “Full testimony against my father and against Mara. Everything I know. In exchange I walk with reduced ch

POV: AylaThe compound is quieter than it has been in weeks. No more urgent footsteps in the corridors. No more low voices planning the next move against a man who no longer holds any ground. The tribunal is finished. Dorian is gone. The sentence has been read and carried out. On paper, it is over.I sit on the wide stone steps that lead down into the east garden and watch the late light move across the grass. The air smells of damp earth and the last of the summer roses. Somewhere behind me a door closes softly. I do not turn to look.I thought the verdict would feel larger than this. I thought it would settle something in my chest that has been restless since the night they pulled me out of the dungeon. Instead the quiet feels uneven, like a room where the furniture has been moved and I have not yet learned the new paths.Footsteps approach from the side path. I know the weight of them before I see who it is.Ryker sits down on the step below mine. He does not speak at once. He simp

POV: AylaThe holding room is plain on purpose. No windows. No soft chairs. Just a table, two seats, and the kind of quiet that makes every breath sound deliberate. Lila sits on the far side of the table with her hands folded in front of her. She looks smaller than she did in the academy corridors. The sharp confidence she used to wear like armor is gone. What remains is tired and careful.I take the seat across from her. Ryker stands near the door. Zane leans against the wall to my right. Caius remains outside with the council advocate who arranged the meeting. The bond sits steady between the four of us. I am not here alone.Lila does not look up at first. When she does, her eyes are clear but red-rimmed.“I did not expect you to come yourself,” she says.“I needed to hear it from you,” I answer. “Not from a summary. Not from a report. From you.”She nods once. “They told me the deal. Full account in exchange for consideration on sentencing. I already gave them the names and the pay

POV: AylaThe light that comes through the curtains is soft and ordinary. It falls across the foot of the bed in a pale stripe and does not feel like a warning. For a long moment I simply lie still and listen to the compound waking up around me. Footsteps pass in the corridor at a normal pace. Somewhere farther down the hall a door opens and closes without urgency. No one is running. No one is calling my name in the sharp tone that used to mean trouble.I sit up slowly. The room is the same one I have slept in for weeks, but it feels different this morning. The dresser is not pushed against the door. The chair is not wedged under the handle. The window latch is unlocked because I left it that way on purpose the night before.I swing my legs over the side of the bed and place my feet on the cool floor. The absence of the old ritual is so complete that it almost startles me. I used to check the door before I even stood up. I used to count the locks. I used to listen for the particular s