Chapter 264
Chapter 264:
“He was just here,” Silas said quickly, sensing the shift in the room. “He offered to clear the Pack’s entire debt—all of it—in exchange for her p>
A growl vibrated through my chest, low and steady, loud enough to make the glass decanter on the shelf rattle.
“Volkov is a butcher p>
“He believes she carries the White Wolf gene,” Silas whispered, his eyes glinting with greed. “He wants to break her. To awaken it through trauma. He’s willing to pay a fortune for the chance p>
Break her.
My vision bled red. The thought of that Rogue’s hands on Adella—torturing her, twisting her into a weapon—sent my wolf feral. She was not a test subject. She was mine. Even if she didn’t know it yet.
“How much?” I demanded, my voice stripped of all warmth.
Silas blinked. “Excuse me p>
“The debt. The total. How much to make Volkov disappear p>
Silas named a figure. It was exorbitant—enough to cripple a smaller pack.
I didn’t blink. I pulled out my phone, accessed my offshore accounts, and initiated the transfer. Within seconds, the device in Silas’s pocket chimed. He pulled it out, his jaw dropping as he stared at the screen.
𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯
“Alpha Hyde… this is p>
“That is the price of your silence,” I cut him off, leaning across the desk until I was inches from his sweat-slicked face. “And the price of her freedom from this place. Now listen to me very carefully p>
I let my Alpha aura flare, filling the room with a suffocating pressure. Silas and Maeve both whimpered, their knees buckling beneath them.
“Take the money and disappear. If I ever smell you near her again—if I ever hear that you have so much as spoken her name—I will hunt you down. And I will not be as patient as Volkov p>
“She’s in the studio!” Maeve cried out, pointing toward the back of the house. “In the garden. We locked her in to keep her safe from the Rogue p>
Safe. The irony was nauseating.
I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, leaving the two of them to count their blood money.
The rain had intensified, lashing against my face as I crossed the overgrown garden. The stone studio sat at the edge of the cliff, dark and solid against the churning sky.
My heart hammered in my chest. I had removed the threats. I had paid the price. Now I could be what she needed.
I reached the heavy wooden door. A new iron padlock secured the latch—a jarring contrast to the rotting wood around it.
The rage returned in a clean, focused wave. They had caged her like an animal.
I didn’t look for a key. I gripped the iron hasp with both hands and channeled everything into my grip. With a roar of effort, I wrenched the metal free, tearing the screws clean out of the decaying frame. Wood splintered and split as the lock fell to the wet grass with a heavy, final thud.