Chapter 80

Chapter 80:

His intensity was suffocating. It triggered that old, deep-seated fear I had carried my entire life — the fear of being the weak, wolfless girl who needed to be managed.

“I am not a pet you need to keep in a cage,” I snapped, meeting his gaze. “I can handle myself p>

Dallas’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering beneath his skin. For a moment I thought he might use his Alpha Voice, but he only exhaled sharply — the sound of a frustrated beast — and pushed back from the counter.

“Eat your oatmeal,” he said curtly, then turned and walked toward the hallway, his phone already in his hand.

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. My hands were trembling slightly.

𝘙𝖾а𝗱 𝖿r𝗈𝘮 𝗒𝗈𝘂𝘳 р𝗵o𝗻𝘦 𝗼ո

“He’s not trying to control you, you know p>

I turned. Azalea was sitting at the far end of the table, poking at her own bowl of oatmeal, her usually bright expression shadowed by something somber.

“Could have fooled me,” I said, rubbing my temples. “He’s treating me like I’m made of glass p>

“He’s terrified, Adella.” She looked up, her eyes serious. “You know what he lost in the War. Zane. His Beta. The silver bullet p>

I nodded slowly. The grief that had calcified in Dallas’s chest, the desperate need to build walls around everything he loved — it all traced back to that single moment.

“He’s not just a tyrant,” Azalea said softly. “He’s haunted p>

I looked toward the hallway where Dallas had disappeared. The anger I had felt moments ago dissolved into a profound, aching empathy. He wasn’t trying to cage me. He was trying to build a fortress around me because he couldn’t bear to see another grave.

I finished the green smoothie in three large gulps. It tasted vile, but I forced every drop down.

“I’m going to get changed for the Healer,” I told Azalea, pushing back from the island.

I walked down the long marble corridor toward the master suite. Halfway there, I saw Dallas standing by the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the hall, his back to me, broad shoulders tense. He was typing furiously on his phone, head bent in concentration.

I slowed my steps, intending to say something — to apologize, perhaps — but then I caught the reflection of his screen in the glass. He was scrolling through the website of S&D Design, the most prestigious architectural restoration firm in the territory. He paused on a listing for a Junior Restoration Consultant, his thumb hovering over the screen.

He wasn’t just checking emails. He was plotting.

A strange warmth bloomed in my chest. He was planning something — something for me. He knew I couldn’t simply sit in this penthouse and exist as a Luna. He knew I needed a purpose.

I didn’t interrupt him. I slipped quietly into the bedroom and closed the door with a soft click.

He was a terrifying, overbearing, damaged Alpha. But as I stood in the empty room that smelled of cedar and rain, I understood that Azalea was right. He was doing everything in his power to keep me.