Chapter 369
Adelia POV
The morning sun sliced through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Marshall Tower penthouse, painting the sleek, modern furniture in stripes of gold. The air smelled of freshly ground coffee and the lingering, earthy scent of rain and cedar that clung to Dallas’s skin — a scent that had become my only definition of safety.
I stood by the kitchen island, warming my hands around a mug, watching him. He was reading a dossier on his tablet, brow furrowed in concentration. Even in pajama bottoms and a loose t-shirt, he radiated a power that made the air around him hum.
The peace was fragile, like spun glass. And then it shattered.
The encrypted satellite phone on the counter — reserved for emergencies and high-level Pack business — began to vibrate. The harsh buzzing seemed to echo against the high ceilings.
Dallas’s hand stilled. He looked at the caller ID, his dark eyes narrowing into slits. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure warning.
“Hyde,” he said, the name tasting like poison on his tongue.
My stomach dropped. I set my mug down, my fingers suddenly cold. “Why is he calling you?”
“Let’s find out.” Dallas swiped the screen and set it to speaker. “Speak, Marcus. And choose your words carefully. You are interrupting my breakfast.”
“Alpha King.” Marcus Hyde’s voice filled the room — nothing like the arrogant Alpha who had once looked down on me as a servant. It sounded thin and brittle, like dry leaves crumbling underfoot. “I am calling about Victoria.”
I stepped closer, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“She had a heart attack last night,” Marcus continued, his voice cracking. “The doctors say her heart is failing. She doesn’t have much time.”
“And this concerns my Mate because?” Dallas asked, his tone devoid of sympathy. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against his side, grounding me.
“She is asking for Adella,” Marcus whispered. “It was Braydon. They fought. Victoria tried to tell him the truth — that Adella returned the betrothal brooch, that she chose you. But Braydon wouldn’t listen. He started screaming that you had brainwashed her, that you were using Lycan magic to control her mind.”
I flinched. The image of Braydon on the street the day before — feral and desperate — flashed through my mind.
“The stress was too much for her,” Marcus said, sounding defeated. “She wants to make amends. She insists on giving Adella her dowry — the one she should have received years ago. Please. It is a dying woman’s last wish.”
Silence stretched through the penthouse, heavy and suffocating. I looked up at Dallas. His jaw was clenched tight enough to snap steel. He was ready to refuse, ready to shield me from the toxicity of that house.
But I thought of Victoria. She had been complicit in my mistreatment, yes — but she had also been a victim of Marcus’s ambition and Braydon’s madness.
“I’ll go,” I said softly.
Dallas looked down at me, his eyes flashing gold.
“I need to do this, Dallas,” I said, placing my hand on his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart beneath my palm. “If she is dying, I won’t deny her peace. Not for her sake — for mine.”