Chapter 365
The guilt hit harder than any physical blow. The deed was sitting five feet away, buried under electronic junk. I was the owner of her mother’s dream, and I couldn’t tell her.
“If it opens,” I said, the lie tasting like ash on my tongue, “we’ll go together. I promise.”
Azalea smiled — trusting and sweet, utterly unaware that I was already keeping a secret to protect her. The hidden parchment in the drawer felt heavier than the moonstone at my throat. Gigi had given me a kingdom, but she had made certain it came with a cost I wasn’t sure I could pay.
Adelia POV
The storm had passed, leaving the morning sky scrubbed clean — a brilliant, piercing blue that flooded the penthouse kitchen. Sunlight glinted off the white marble island and the stainless steel appliances, but the brightness did little to dissolve the shadow clinging to my conscience.
The air still held the faint, comforting scent of Dallas — rainstorm and cedar — lingering long after he’d left for the Pack house. It was usually enough to settle me, but today the secret of the Moonpetal Scriptorium deed sat heavy in my stomach, churning alongside the coffee I was trying to drink.
“Unbelievable,” Azalea scoffed, tapping furiously at the wall-mounted news terminal. She was perched on a barstool, her knuckles white. “Look at this filth.”
I leaned over and peered at the headline. Disgraced Luna Victoria Hyde Donates Millions to Wolfless Orphanage Fund.
“She’s trying to buy her way back into society’s good graces,” Azalea spat, her eyes narrowing. “It’s classic damage control. She doesn’t care about those kids. She just wants everyone to forget she raised a monster like Braydon.”
I traced the rim of my mug. “Maybe she’s realized her mistakes, Azalea. People can change when they lose everything, can’t they?”
The words felt heavy on my tongue. I wasn’t really defending Victoria — I was trying to justify Gigi. If the Matriarch could change enough to give me the Scriptorium, perhaps redemption wasn’t a myth.
Azalea looked at me as though I’d grown a second head. “Adella, please. A wolf doesn’t change its fur just because it got caught in a trap. She’s a snake. Snakes don’t have epiphanies — they just shed their skin and wait to bite again.”
Her conviction stung. She was right, of course. Victoria was likely plotting, just as I was plotting how to hide a kingdom of books from my best friend.
“You’re right,” I conceded softly, needing to escape the subject before my guilt showed on my face. “Speaking of new beginnings — how was the date with Forrest? Did the young warrior survive your interrogation?”
Azalea’s cheeks flushed a traitorous pink, and her mouth opened to retort — but the chime of the private elevator cut her off.
We both froze. Dallas wasn’t due back for hours.
The doors slid open, revealing not my Alpha, but a stiff, gray-haired man in a formal suit. Hemmings. The Parrish family butler.
Azalea was off her barstool in a heartbeat, positioning herself between me and the intruder. “What are you doing here?” she growled, her voice dropping an octave.