Chapter 269
Chapter 269:
“Drive,” I commanded, the word vibrating with the force of Ragnar, my Lycan beast. He was pacing in the back of my mind—a caged storm demanding we take our Mate to the safety of our territory, behind walls of stone and steel where no one could reach her.
“Stop p>
The single word was barely a whisper, but it landed like a physical blow. Adella’s hand shot out, gripping Vance’s shoulder before he could shift the SUV into gear.
“I can’t leave,” she pleaded, turning her desperate gaze to me. “Not yet p>
Fо𝘭𝘭𝗼𝘄 𝘂𝘀 о𝘯.с𝗈𝗺
I stared at her, incredulous. The storm outside was raging, a perfect mirror of the turmoil in my chest. “Adella, that room is a cage. Silas locked you in there like an animal. We are leaving p>
“My mother’s journals,” she insisted, her voice trembling but her eyes hard as flint. “They’re hidden in the studio. If I leave now, Silas will find them—or worse, hand them over to Volkov. They contain everything, Dallas. The truth about the White Wolf bloodline. If the Rogues get hold of them p>
“Then I will buy the land,” I cut her off, the solution simple and absolute in my mind. “I will purchase Mistwood Hollow by morning. I’ll burn every contract Silas holds and absorb this pathetic pack into Blackwood. Problem solved p>
“You can’t!” Adella grabbed my hand, her small cold fingers sending sparks shooting up my arm. “Think, Dallas. If the Lycan King suddenly acquires a bankrupt pack’s estate, every Rogue and Alpha in the country will want to know why. You’ll paint a target on my back larger than the one I already have p>
She is right, Ragnar grumbled, though he despised the admission. Smart little Mate.
I clenched my jaw, the muscles working. Logic warred with instinct. “Fine,” I growled, the sound low and dangerous. “We go back. We find the journals. And then we leave p>
I signaled Vance to wait. We stepped out of the vehicle and the rain swallowed us again as I guided Adella back into the broken maw of the art studio.
The room was a tomb of shadows and dust. The moment we crossed the threshold, the residual scent of her earlier fear hit me, mingling with the stale smell of turpentine. I hated this place.
“Start looking,” I said, scanning the dark corners.
Adella moved to a stack of old canvases, her hands unsteady. “There’s something else,” she said, without looking at me. “Tomorrow, I’m going to The Onyx Fang p>
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
“The Rogue bar?” I asked, my voice deceptively calm.
“I’m meeting Jarred Volkov p>
Ragnar roared—a sound of pure, unadulterated violence that ricocheted through my skull. I crossed the distance between us in a single motion, my hands closing around her shoulders.
“Absolutely not,” I snarled, my eyes flashing gold. “You are not walking into a den of predators. Volkov is a shark, Adella. You are wolfless. You are prey to him p>