Chapter 345
We crossed the threshold into the foyer — a cavernous space of black and white marble lit by a crystal chandelier that looked like frozen tears. The air inside was thick with the scent of beeswax, old wood, and something else: something sharp, metallic, and overwhelmingly dominant.
The scent of a Lycan Matriarch.
At the top of the grand staircase, a figure stood in the shadows. She was small, but her presence filled the room, pressing down on my shoulders like a physical weight.
Silence stretched, taut and brittle, until her voice sliced through it — cold, precise, and dripping with venom.
“He actually brought it.”
The word hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
It.
Not she. Not her. It. As if I were an object, a mistake, a thing to be discarded.
A low, vibrating growl started deep in Dallas’s chest, reverberating through his arm where it was linked with mine — a primal warning from the Alpha King that promised violence.
“Careful, Grandmother,” Dallas said, his voice a dangerous rumble that seemed to shake the crystal teardrops of the chandelier above us. “You are speaking of your Queen.”
Gigi Marshall didn’t even blink. She descended the grand staircase with movements that were fluid and predatory, defying her age entirely. She wore black velvet that seemed to swallow the light, and her eyes — cold, pale chips of ice — slid over me as though I were invisible.
“Queen?” She scoffed, reaching the bottom step and walking past us into the drawing room without waiting for a response. “You bring a mule to a racehorse stable and expect me to applaud? Come, Dallas. Stop this charade.”
Dallas tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me with him as we followed her into the drawing room. The space was a mausoleum of power. Heavy velvet curtains blocked out the sun, and the air tasted of beeswax and old blood. My gaze snagged on the massive marble fireplace. Lining the mantle were goblets — not made of silver or gold, but of bone. The trophies of defeated Alphas.
Gigi stood by the fireplace, her back to us. “She is wolfless, Dallas. An empty vessel. A genetic dead end from the ruined Silver Moon Pack. She cannot give you an heir. She cannot strengthen our line. She is a disgrace.”
“She is my Mate,” Dallas snarled, the air growing heavy with his dominance. “And she will bear my children. The doctors have already confirmed she is capable.”
Gigi spun around, her face twisted in a sneer. “Human children? Weaklings? We are Lycans. We do not dilute our blood with nothingness.” She finally looked at me, her gaze piercing. “I will summon the Elders. They will not stand for this. They will demand a Rejection.”
“The Elders serve the King,” Dallas stepped forward, shielding me with his body. “Not a ghost living in the past. If they have a problem with my Mate, they can take it up with my wolf. And you know how Ragnar deals with treason.”
Gigi’s composure cracked. Her face flushed a mottled red. With a shriek of pure rage, she snatched one of the ancient bone goblets from the mantle and hurled it at the floor.
Crash.