Chapter 309
Chapter 309:
My breath hitched. I tried to pull the phone away, to hang up, but his words kept coming.
“I know where you are, Addie. I can see you — kneeling at their graves like the dutiful daughter. But you don’t know the truth, do you? Your father wasn’t a hero. He made a deal with those Rogues. He was selling us out. The attack only happened because he betrayed them first p>
The words hit me like physical blows. My vision blurred, the world tilting on its axis. Traitor? Dad?
“No,” I choked out, the word escaping before I could stop it.
“Oh, yes,” Braydon hissed, his voice dripping with faux pity. “You parade around like the daughter of a martyr. But your blood is just as dirty as mine p>
𝘞𝗵𝖺𝘵 е𝘷ery𝗈n𝗲 i𝗌 re𝖺𝖽𝗶𝗻𝗴 o𝗇 𝗴а𝗹𝗇о𝗏е𝘭𝗌.сo𝗆
The phone was ripped from my hand. Dallas moved faster than I could track, his expression thunderous. He didn’t speak into it — he simply crushed the device in his fist. The sound of cracking plastic and shattering glass was sickeningly loud in the quiet graveyard.
He dropped the ruined pieces onto the grass and pulled me into his chest, his arms iron bands around me.
Rage, hot and purifying, surged through my veins, burning away the shock. I wasn’t the scared little girl Braydon used to manipulate anymore. But the poison had already been injected.
“He said my father was a traitor,” I sobbed, the adrenaline crashing.
Dallas pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. His gaze burned with conviction. “Lies from a desperate man. They were heroes, Adella. They died protecting you. And you are their legacy. That is the only truth p>
I nodded, clinging to his lapels and letting his certainty anchor me.
Dallas looked past me, his gaze settling on the tombstone again. His brows furrowed slightly as he read the inscription, his eyes lingering on my mother’s name.
Luna Elara Everett.
A strange shadow passed over his face — a flicker of recognition that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He looked like a man trying to grasp a memory just out of reach, something buried deep beneath the years.
“Come,” he said softly, helping me to my feet, though his eyes stayed on the stone a moment longer than necessary. “We should go. The air here is tainted now p>
I wiped my eyes and turned away from the grave. I thought the worst was over. I thought Braydon’s petty attempt to hurt me was the end of it.
But as we turned toward the path, I saw an old man leaning on a rake near the entrance, watching us with a sad, knowing smile.
Adella
The old man leaned on his rake, his knuckles gnarled like the roots of the ancient oaks surrounding us. He offered a sad, knowing smile that sent a shiver down my spine — entirely unrelated to the cold wind.
“Mr. Henderson,” I breathed, recognizing the groundskeeper who had tended these graves since I was a child.
“Adella,” he rasped, his voice thick with age. “I knew you’d come back. He said you would p>