Chapter 23 Shattered Veil

Chapter 23 Shattered Veil
The door didnt close loudly, yet the sound of it settling into place felt deliberate—like a quiet announcement rather than a simple entrance.

The woman standing at the threshold didn’t rush in, nor speak immediately. She simply stepped inside as if the room belonged to her just as much as it did to the man who had left it moments ago. The faint scent of something refined followed her—subtle, expensive, controlled.

Skylar recognized her now without needing to be told. The elegance, the stillness, the way her presence seemed to shape the air around her rather than disturb it. Nothing about her was loud, yet everything about her demanded attention.

Benetta’s gaze moved to the bed, to Skylar, taking in her condition with a careful slowness that did not feel like concern—it felt like observation.

“You look worse than the last time I saw you,” she said at last, her voice smooth, almost gentle.

Skylar didn’t respond right away. Her fingers tightened slightly against the sheets, her body instinctively more alert despite the exhaustion that still clung to her.

“You came into his room without permission,” Skylar said quietly instead. It wasn’t defianc but wasn’t submission either.

Benetta’s lips curved faintly, something close to a smile but not quite reaching her eyes. “I don’t need permission to enter my son’s space,” she replied.

Benetta stepped closer, her heels making soft contact against the floor with each measured step until she stood near the foot of the bed. From there, she could see everything clearly—the bruises, the faint marks along Skylar’s skin, the lingering weakness in the way she held herself upright.

“Look like Las Vegas doesn’t suit you well,” Benetta continued, her tone thoughtful, as if discussing something trivial. “It tends to be unkind to those who don’t understand how it works.”

“Yet you still sent me there.”

“Was I?” It wasn’t a denial, but Benetta didn’t deny it either. “I just try to keep track of things that might become… inconvenient,” she said lightly. Skylar’s stomach twisted.

“So you let it happen,” she said, her voice quieter now, but edged. “You knew what was out there.”

Benetta tilted her head slightly, as if considering the phrasing.

“I didn’t let you do anything,” she corrected gently. “You chose to leave.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?”

Benetta’s eyes held hers, calm and steady. “You walked out of the palace without permission,” she said. “No one forced you to do that.”

“But it’s interesting,” Benetta added, her gaze softening in a way that made it more unsettling rather than less, “how quickly the world reminded you of your place.”

The words lingered. Skylar’s fingers curled into the fabric of the sheets.

“You helped me,” she said, more quietly now, piecing it together. “You made it possible for me to leave without being stopped.”

Benetta didn’t answer immediately. She moved instead, her hand brushing lightly against the back of the chair beside the bed before she took a seat, crossing one leg over the other with effortless grace.

“I didn’t like you,” she said simply. The honesty of it landed harder than any insult.

Benetta watched her blinking, something faintly amused flickering beneath her composed exterior.

“You were an inconvenience,” she continued. “A variable that didn't belong in a place where everything is carefully arranged.”

Skylar swallowed. Benetta’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. “I gave you an opportunity,” she said. “What you did with it… was your own decision.”

Skylar’s chest rose and fell unevenly. Her mind replayed it all in fragments, sharper now, more defined.

“And the food?” Skylar asked, her voice quieter, but steadier than before. “Was that my decision too?”

The question hung in the air. Benetta didn’t  react the way someone innocent might have. Instead, her lips curved again—slightly, almost imperceptibly.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” she said; Skylar’s breath caught. “That’s an answer,” Benetta added, her tone still polite, still composed. “If it had been meant to kill you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Cold slid down Skylar’s spine. Benetta didn’t need to say it outright, the implication was enough. Skylar looked at her, something shifting behind her eyes—fear, yes, but something else threading through it now.

Benetta leaned back slightly in her seat, her posture as relaxed as if they were discussing something far less dangerous.

“You should consider yourself fortunate,” she said. “Many omegas never get the chance to learn these things before it’s too late.”

Benetta’s gaze drifted briefly toward the window before returning to her. “Fortunately,” she continued, “this situation will resolve itself soon.”

Skylar’s brows drew together faintly. “What do you mean?”

Benetta smiled again. This time, there was something brighter in it; something almost pleased.

“The council has already begun preparations,” she said. “Liam’s wedding will take place within the week.”

The words didn’t register immediately. Skylar stared at her, her mind taking a second too long to catch up.

“…Wedding?

Benetta nodded lightly. “To his Luna.”

Something tightened in Skylar’s chest. Benetta rose from her seat, smoothing the fabric of her sleeve as she stepped closer again.

“She’s everything this kingdom needs,” she continued, her voice carrying a note of admiration now. “A gamma. Strong bloodline. Educated, graceful, composed. She understands her role and fulfills it without question.”

“She’ll stand beside him properly,” Benetta added. “Not hidden in shadows. Not… misplaced.”

Skylar lowered her gaze for a moment, her throat tightening despite her efforts to keep her expression steady. This was how it was supposed to be, and yet something inside her resisted A flicker of something she didn’t want to name. As if something deeper than thought reacted before she could suppress it.

Benetta's eyes lingered on Skylar just a second longer, sharp beneath the calm.

“You understand,” she said softly. Benetta studied her face, searching for something, then seemed satisfied with what she saw—or didn’t see. “Good,” she said.

She turned then, already moving toward the door, her presence retreating as quietly as it had arrived.

“But don’t worry,” she added lightly, pausing just before she reached it. “You won’t be here long enough for it to matter.”

The door opened, and then closed.

Skylar’s gaze stayed fixed on the space Benetta had occupied, her thoughts slower now, heavier, as if they had been weighed down by everything that had just been said.

Her fingers loosened against the sheets. Because beneath the exhaustion, beneath the fear, beneath everything that told her to let go—something still refused.

And she didn’t understand why.