To ruin an Omega-Chapter 186: The Benefactor

Chapter 186: The Benefactor
HAZEL
The sentinels kept their hands locked on my arms as they dragged me through corridors that seemed to narrow the farther we went. The marble floors ended somewhere behind us, replaced by rough stone that scraped under my boots. The air changed too. It grew damp and sour, heavy enough that it sat on my tongue. I wrinkled my nose before I could stop myself.
We went down a staircase that felt carved straight into the earth. Each step pulled the warmth out of my bones. By the time we reached the bottom, my breath fogged faintly in front of my face.
A thick wooden door waited there, already half open. One of the sentinels kicked it the rest of the way. The hinges shrieked.
"Inside."
They shoved me forward. I stumbled and caught myself on the wall, my palm sliding over stone slick with moisture. I pulled my hand back fast and stared at the dark smear on my skin, trying not to think too hard about what it might be.
The cell was barely big enough to turn around in. No windows. No bed. Just a bench bolted to the wall and a bucket in the corner that I refused to look at for longer than a heartbeat. The floor glistened with something wet. Water, maybe. I told myself it was water.
The smell said otherwise.
It hit me fully once the door loomed behind me. Rot. Waste. Old fear that had soaked into the stone and never left. My stomach rolled hard enough that I had to clamp a hand over my mouth and breathe through my nose. That only made it worse. The stink crawled down my throat and lodged there, thick and cloying.
I turned back toward the sentinels. "You cannot be serious."
The younger one hesitated. Just a flicker. Sympathy, maybe. He did not say a word. His hand closed on the door instead.
Panic crept up my spine, cold and sharp. The walls felt closer already. I wanted to shout, to demand something cleaner, brighter, anything. I swallowed it all down. The bile. The pride. The urge to beg.
The door was almost shut when a voice echoed down the corridor.
"Wait."
The sentinels froze.
I knew that voice. I had known it all my life.
My mother’s footsteps rang out as she approached. The sentinels stepped aside without argument. She swept past them and into the cell, the door swinging partway closed behind her. Torchlight flickered through the bars, painting her face in moving shadows.
I opened my mouth, not even sure what I meant to say.
Her palm struck my cheek before I could get a word out.
The force snapped my head to the side. Pain flared hot and bright, my eyes stinging with tears I refused to let fall. I stayed where I was. Did not lift a hand. Just turned my face back toward her slowly and met her stare.
"That hurt, Mother."
"Are you out of your mind?" Her voice shook with fury, not sorrow. "I told you to confess. I told you to beg for leniency. I told you exactly what to do."
"I know what you told me," I said, keeping my voice steady even as my cheek burned.
"If Fia is summoned here," she went on, stepping closer, her finger jabbing into my chest, "if her idiotic mate, who already wants your father and me ruined, sets foot in this place, you are finished. Do you hear me? Finished."
"I am not."
She laughed sharply. Bitter. "You are not what?"
"Finished." I held her gaze. "I made a deal. With someone who can actually offer me something. I am not backing down."
Her anger faltered, confusion sliding into its place. "What are you talking about?" She grabbed my shoulders, fingers digging in. "Who did you make deals with?"
I smiled. It felt wrong on my face. "Wouldn’t you like to know."
"Hazel."
"Do you know what he promised me?" I leaned in, close enough that she could see every line of my face in the low light. "Protection. For your family."
The color drained from her face. Her hands fell away as if burned. Then she laughed again, hollow and cracked, soaked in pity that made my skin crawl.
"You are a bigger fool than I ever imagined."
I said nothing. I watched her instead.
"My family disowned me when I chose your father," she said, her voice flattening into something dead. "They were not there for our union. Or your birth. Or anything after. They have a son. That was enough for them. They do not need me. They do not need us."
"I know liars," I said quietly. "This man was not one. He knew me. Really knew me. He knew your family too. And he promised they would be the ones to save me."
She went still. Slowly, she turned back to me. Her hand came up to my face again, but this time there was no violence in it. Just fear, naked and unmasked.
"Who," she whispered, "is this man?"
I opened my mouth to answer her. His name rested on my tongue, heavy and certain, like it would sink straight to the bottom once spoken and change the shape of everything around it.
I never got the chance.
Footsteps thundered down the corridor. Fast enough to echo. Urgent enough that my pulse jumped.
"Luna Isobel!"
The voice cut through the cell. Sharp. Breathless.
We both turned toward the door as Delta came into view, hands braced on the bars, chest rising and falling like she had sprinted the whole way.
"Luna Isobel."
Mother moved first. She stepped closer to the door, shoulders squared. "What is it."
Delta swallowed, dragging in air. "The Strati house is here." She hesitated, like she needed to say it twice to believe it herself. "Your parents, Luna Isobel. They have arrived."
The silence that followed was complete. It pressed against my ears until they rang.
Mother stood with her back to me, frozen halfway between the door and the bars. I watched the line of her spine stiffen, watched her hands curl slowly at her sides like she was bracing for a blow that had not landed yet.
Then she turned.
Her face was empty. Not angry. Not afraid. Just wiped clean. She looked at me the way someone looks at a stranger wearing a familiar face.
I smiled.
"See," I said softly. "I told you."
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Nothing came out. One hand lifted to her throat, fingers pressing against her pulse as if she needed proof that she was still breathing.
Delta shifted her weight outside the cell. "They arrived with a full entourage. Guards. Legal counsel. Elders." Her gaze slid to me through the bars. "They are asking for Hazel. Specifically."
"That is impossible," Mother whispered.
But there was no strength behind the words. She already knew better.
I pushed myself off the wall. The stone no longer felt like it was leaching the heat from my bones. My legs held me without shaking. Even the stench of the cell had faded into something distant and irrelevant.
"You should go see them," I said, keeping my voice easy. Almost polite. "It has been what, twenty years. Maybe more. They might not even recognize you at first."
Her head snapped toward me. "What did you do."
"I made a deal," I said, the same way I had before.
"With who." Her voice climbed, sharp with panic now. "Who could... Who has the power to drag my family here after all this time."
I tilted my head and studied her. Let the question hang. Let it burn. I wanted her to sit in it the way I had sat under the elders’ stares, being weighed and measured and quietly condemned.
"Someone who knew which strings still mattered," I said. I stepped closer, close enough to see the fine cracks beneath her composure. "Someone who understood that your family might not care about you anymore, but they care very much about appearances. About reputation. About the idea that one of their bloodline is being discussed in an elder circle for crimes she may or may not have committed."
Her breathing quickened. "That cannot be true. No one could do that."
"And yet." I nodded toward Delta. "They are here. Right now. Upstairs. Waiting."
Delta cleared her throat. "Luna Isobel. The lead elder has requested your immediate presence. Your parents are demanding an explanation as to why their granddaughter is being held in a cell."
Mother turned back toward the door. She stared past Delta, up the corridor, toward the stairs and the promise of light. Her fists clenched so tightly I could see the tendons stand out.
"This changes everything," she said under her breath.
"That was the point," I replied.
She looked back at me one last time. The fear was still there, but it was no longer alone. Calculation had settled beside it, cold and familiar. She was already rearranging the board in her head.
"We will discuss this later," she said. "All of it."
"I look forward to it."