Chapter 227
Chapter 227:
My new apartment was nothing like the penthouse. It was a concrete box that smelled of fresh latex paint, cardboard, and the sharp, ozone-heavy scent of my own agitation. There was no furniture save for a single black beanbag chair Azalea had dragged in earlier and a lonely floor lamp casting long, jagged shadows against the bare walls. Stacks of unopened boxes stamped with the Marshall Enterprises logo formed a barricade near the kitchen island.
It wasn’t a home. It was a fortress. A watchtower.
“Well,” Azalea chirped, breaking the thick silence. She set the steaming dish of shepherd’s pie onto a stack of books, her eyes darting between me and Adella. “I think I forgot the wine. In my car. I should go get that p>
She didn’t wait for an answer. With a quick, meaningful glance at me — a silent don’t screw this up, Dad — she slipped out the door, leaving me alone with the woman who held my sanity in her trembling hands.
Adella stood near the entrance, her back pressed against the dark wood, looking like a cornered deer. But her eyes were blazing with a fire that made Ragnar prowl restlessly at the back of my mind. He didn’t want to hurt her — he wanted to press against her, to soothe her, to claim her.
Mate. Mine. Safe now, Ragnar rumbled, his voice a low vibration in my skull.
𝖱еa𝘥 о𝗻 а𝗻𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝗏іс𝖾 𝗼𝗇
“You’re insane,” Adella whispered, the shock on her face hardening into anger. She gestured around the empty room. “You bought a luxury apartment just to spy on me? Termites, Dallas? Really p>
“It was a poor lie,” I admitted, my voice rougher than I intended. The lack of sleep was catching up with me. For three nights I hadn’t closed my eyes, too busy staring at the ceiling of the penthouse, wondering if she was safe miles away in the city. “Azalea suggested it. I went along with it because I knew you wouldn’t open the door if I told you the truth p>
“The truth being that you’re a control freak who can’t handle rejection?” She took a step forward, jabbing a finger accusingly at my chest. “I am not an employee you can micromanage, Dallas. I am not a project. This—” she waved her hand at the space between us, “—this is stalking p>
“It is protection!” The growl ripped from my throat before I could stop it.
Adella flinched, stopping dead.
I closed my eyes and forced air into my lungs, trying to leash the Lycan power threatening to crack the windows. When I opened them, I looked straight into her hazel eyes and let the walls come down.
“Yesterday,” I said, my voice low and deadly serious. “At 6:42 PM, a grey sedan parked across the street from The Aurelia. It sat there for two hours p>
Adella frowned, confusion flickering across her face. “So? It’s a busy street p>
“The car was rented through a shell company,” I continued, stepping closer. The magnetic pull of the bond was agonizing, urging me to close the distance, to wrap her in my scent until the world fell away. “But my Gamma, Vance Decker, traced the driver. It was Braydon p>
The color drained from her face. “Braydon? He was here p>