Chapter 246

Chapter 246:

A comfortable silence fell between us, the tension dissolving into something quieter and warmer. I took a sip of coffee, feeling a new and profound weight of love for the broken man sleeping in the other room.

Then the screen of my phone, sitting on the counter near the sink, lit up.

I glanced at it casually, expecting a notification from work.

Unknown Number: We’re not done.

The blood drained from my face. There was no name, but I knew. The cold, slithering sensation in my gut was unmistakable.

Braydon Hyde.

My grip on the mug tightened until my knuckles went white. He was still out there. After everything—after Dallas had humiliated him, after I had chosen my mate in front of them all—he still believed he had a claim on me.

Fear flared for a single sharp moment, cold and metallic. Then I looked down at the bruise on my wrist where Dallas had held me through the night, and the fear dissolved, replaced by something harder and colder. I wasn’t the girl Braydon used to manipulate anymore. I belonged to a Lycan now.

I swiped the message, hit delete, and blocked the number.

“Everything okay?” Azalea asked, her voice sharpening. She was watching me closely, her instincts no doubt picking up on the spike in my heartbeat.

Bе 𝗽𝖺r𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗼𝘂𝘳 cо𝗆𝘮𝘶n𝗂t𝘺 𝗈𝘯

I forced a smile and turned the phone face-down against the marble counter. “Yeah. Just spam. You know how it is p>

Azalea’s eyes lingered on me a beat too long, searching for the lie beneath the surface. I held my breath and prayed she wouldn’t push. If Dallas found out Braydon was still reaching out, Ragnar would tear the city apart. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to protect him from his own demons.

“Right,” Azalea said slowly, her tone making it perfectly clear she didn’t believe a word. “Just spam p>

I took another sip of coffee. The bitter warmth did nothing to wash away the taste of the secret I had just swallowed.

Dallas

The fire from the grill licked at the air, mirroring the heat that had been simmering in my veins since I woke up with Adella in my arms. We were on the rooftop terrace of The Obsidian Aerie, my private sanctuary atop the city’s highest peak. The floor beneath my boots was paved with black volcanic rock that absorbed the dying light of the sun, while the city of Blackwood sprawled below like a carpet of diamonds thrown onto black velvet.

I flipped a thick ribeye steak, the scent of searing meat mingling with the crisp evening air. It was a domestic act—primal and simple—yet it felt like a victory.

Across the sunken lounge area, Adella was laughing at something Azalea had said. The sound hit me straight in the chest, smoothing the jagged edges of my soul. She was wearing a simple silk dress that clung to her curves, the fabric concealing the bruises I had left on her skin the night before.

Mine, Ragnar purred in the back of my mind, curling up in deep satisfaction. She smells like us. Finally.