Chapter 13
Chapter 13:
The silence in the penthouse was heavy, weighted with the scent of roasted rosemary and the ozone-charged storm that was Dallas Marshall’s natural aura. Sitting at the massive ebony dining table, I felt like an imposter in a king’s court. The city lights of New York glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows—a sprawling galaxy beneath our feet—but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the man at the head of the table.
Dallas sliced his steak with surgical precision, his face a mask of perfect indifference. Beside me, Azalea was vibrating with barely suppressed fury.
“You should have seen him, Dad,” she said, stabbing a potato with her fork. “Braydon Hyde grabbed her arm like he owned her—in the middle of a public store. You can’t just blacklist him. You need to crush him. Burn the Hyde Pack to the ground p>
The fork froze halfway to my mouth. A cold spike of terror cut straight through my appetite.
Burn it to the ground.
“No,” I whispered, the word escaping before I could stop it.
Q𝘶а𝘭i𝗍у 𝗍𝗿аnѕ𝗅𝗮𝗍𝗂𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝗈𝗇 ѕ.с𝘰𝘮
Dallas paused, his knife resting against the porcelain with a soft clink. He lifted his gaze, his obsidian eyes locking onto mine. “No p>
My hands had begun to tremble. I hid them in my lap and gripped the linen napkin. “Please, Dallas. You can’t destroy the whole Pack p>
“They hurt you,” Azalea said, her brows knitting together. “Why would you defend them p>
“It’s not Braydon I’m worried about,” I said, my voice unsteady. “When the Hyde Pack absorbed my parents’ territory, they took in the families who worked our land—the elderly, the wolfless, the ones too weak to fight back. They are still there, living in the shadows of the estate. If you declare total war, if you destroy their economy or their homes, they are the ones who will suffer first p>
I looked at Dallas, pleading silently. I was asking a monster to show mercy—a businessman to set aside profit and vengeance for the sake of people who couldn’t protect themselves.
Dallas set his knife down. He lifted his wine glass, swirling the dark red liquid, watching the legs run slowly down the inside of the glass.
“Do you think I am a blunt instrument, Adelia?” His voice was low—a velvet rumble that seemed to vibrate through the floor itself.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I don’t carpet bomb,” he said, his eyes dark and unreadable. “I use a scalpel. My war is with the Hyde bloodline, not with the dirt they walk on or the people they subjugate.” He took a measured sip, his gaze never leaving my face. “I have done my due diligence. I know exactly who lives on the Moonstone Creek estate. No harm will come to the innocent p>
I blinked, genuinely stunned. Due diligence. He spoke as though he had studied the demographics of a fallen pack more thoroughly than I ever had. A strange warmth bloomed in my chest—confusing and unwelcome. Why would the Alpha King concern himself with a few dozen displaced workers?
Before I could ask, a sharp buzz from the wall panel cut through the room.
The intercom crackled to life. “Alpha Marshall. We have a situation in the lobby p>
Dallas didn’t glance at the panel. “Report p>