Chapter 91
Chapter 91:
“Meteorite iron,” Dallas said softly. “Forged by the master smiths of the Ironclaw Pack. They never rust, never dull p>
My breath hitched. This was a king’s ransom — a gift fit for a Luna, not a charity case. The doubt, insidious and cold, crept back in.
“Dallas…” I looked up at him, my grip on the box tightening. “Did you make her hire me p>
His smile faded, replaced by a look of intense seriousness. “I opened the door, Adella. That is all. I told Augusta that a talented restorationist was being unfairly hindered by a coward named Braydon Hyde.” He walked around the counter, stopping inches from me. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, smelling of rain and cedar. He tilted my chin up with a gentle finger.
“Augusta does not do favors. She does not hire charity cases. She hired you because she wants to dissect you — to see what kind of threat you pose to her family. If you were not exceptional, she would have thrown you out of that office regardless of who I am. You earned this. Never let anyone, not even yourself, tell you otherwise p>
The sincerity in his eyes burned away the last of my doubt. He wasn’t controlling me. He was arming me.
“Thank you,” I whispered, clutching the box to my chest. “For seeing me p>
“I will always see you,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips.
The air between us crackled, charged with a tension that was becoming impossible to ignore. But before the moment could break, a harsh vibration shattered the silence.
Dallas’s phone buzzed on the counter.
ѕ𝗵а𝗿𝗲 у𝘰u𝗿 𝘵𝘩о𝘶𝗀h𝗍𝘀 o𝘯 𝗴𝗮𝗹𝘯о𝗏е𝗅s.сo𝘮
He glanced at the screen, and the warmth instantly evaporated from his face. His eyes flashed a brilliant, predatory gold — Ragnar surfacing. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, the scent of ozone and impending violence flooding the space.
He picked up the phone, his knuckles white. He didn’t answer it. He simply stared at the name flashing on the screen.
Braydon Hyde.
Dallas looked at me, a storm gathering in his eyes.
“He knows p>
The restaurant was a study in shadows and crystal, tucked away in the heart of Blackwood territory — the kind of place where deals were made in hushed tones and the wine cost more than my old tuition. But the knot in my stomach made the Wagyu steak in front of me look unappetizing.
“He got to Gavin Stout, didn’t he?” I asked, breaking the silence that had settled over our table. “That’s why the interview went south before it even started. Braydon didn’t just blacklist me — he poisoned the well p>
Dallas sliced his steak with surgical precision. The candlelight flickered in his golden eyes, casting sharp angles across his face. He didn’t look surprised.