Chapter 292
Chapter 292:
I struck his chest. Once. Twice. My human strength was nothing against his Lycan frame; it was like hitting a wall of granite. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away. He simply held me tighter, absorbing my frenzy.
“Let it out,” he growled softly, his hand stroking the back of my head.
A guttural sound tore from my throat — half sob, half snarl. Something primal surged through me, a desperate need to feel something real, to anchor myself to him with a pain that matched the one tearing through my chest. Driven by an instinct I couldn’t control, I grabbed his forearm and pulled it to my mouth.
I bit down. Hard.
My teeth sank into the thick muscle of his arm. I tasted the salt of his skin, followed immediately by the hot, metallic tang of copper. I didn’t hold back. I clamped down until my jaw ached, pouring all my agony, my rage, and my confusion into the bite.
Dallas didn’t pull away. He didn’t even tense. Instead, a low, vibrating purr resonated in his chest — a sound of dark, twisted approval. He let his pain ground me, his blood washing away the taste of Braydon’s lies.
𝘚𝘵𝗈𝗿ie𝗌 𝘆𝗼𝗎 𝘸oո’𝘁 p𝘂𝘵 𝖽o𝘄ո оո
Slowly, the red haze in my vision cleared. The suffocating pressure in my chest eased, replaced by the sharp reality of what I had done.
I released him, gasping for air, my lips stained crimson.
On his forearm, a perfect circle of teeth marks was already welling with blood. It was a brutal mark — one that would scar.
I stared at it, horrified. But Dallas simply lifted his arm and inspected the wound with a strange reverence. He used his thumb to wipe a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth, his eyes burning with an intensity that could scorch the earth.
“I’m here, little wolf,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m real. And I’m not going anywhere p>
I collapsed against him, the adrenaline leaving me hollowed out. But in that hollow space, something new began to harden. It was cold. It was sharp. It was hate.
For ten years, I had mourned my parents while living with their executioners. For ten years, I had worshipped the man who held the key to my cage.
Braydon Hyde.
He wasn’t a savior. He was a thief who had stolen a decade of my life.
I pulled back just enough to look into Dallas’s eyes. The swirling storm of his Lycan, Ragnar, met my gaze. There was no judgment there — only a waiting violence.
“They all have to pay,” I said. My voice was no longer trembling. It was dead calm, like the surface of a frozen lake.
Dallas nodded, his expression grim. “Marcus and Victoria will face the Council. They will not survive the winter p>
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not just them p>
Dallas went still. His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face up. “Even Braydon p>
The name tasted like ash. I thought of him standing in this room moments ago, claiming he had done it for me — that he had bought my safety. He had traded my freedom for his conscience.