Chapter 448
“He’s broken, Adella,” Braydon murmured, stepping close enough that his chest brushed my back. “He’s been using you, and now he’s throwing you away.”
“He called me a liability,” I whispered, staring at the empty runway.
Braydon’s hand gently cupped my cheek, turning my face toward him. His eyes burned with a dark, obsessive hunger. “To him, maybe. To me, you are a prize. You are everything.”
I didn’t pull away. The numbness was absolute.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the folded, tear-stained letter Dallas had written me before he left — the one filled with promises of forever. I stared at it for a moment. Then I crushed the paper in my fist and opened my hand, letting the biting wind snatch it away across the cold asphalt until it disappeared into the storm.
“Take me to Hyde Manor,” I said.
Dallas
The ride to The Four Seasons was a blur of agonizing torment. Every mile that separated me from Adella felt like a serrated blade sawing through my chest. Ragnar clawed frantically at the walls of my mind, his howls echoing with the devastation of a dying beast.
I forced my eyes open and stared at the privacy partition. I tapped my temple, opening the mind-link to my Beta. Duncan. Are the rats in position?
Yes, Alpha. Duncan’s voice echoed back, tight with unease. RogueNet paparazzi are swarming the lobby. Are you sure about this?
Just make sure they get a clear shot, I commanded, cutting the link.
When the SUV pulled up to the hotel entrance, I wiped the last trace of black blood from my mouth. Yara stepped out first, then reached back to help me. I leaned heavily against her, letting her arm wrap around my waist and her hand rest intimately against my chest. Her scent — a Warrior’s blend of worn leather and desert sand — clung to me, intentionally masking the metallic stench of my failing organs.
The moment we stepped through the revolving doors, the lobby erupted in blinding white flashes. Cameras clicked like rapid gunfire. I kept my face an impassive mask of arrogant indifference, walking my new “mistress” past the flashing lenses and driving the final nail into the coffin of my mate-bond.
Ten minutes later, the heavy oak doors of the Presidential Suite clicked shut behind us.
I immediately pulled away from Yara, my knees buckling. I collapsed onto the plush sofa and tore off my ruined dress shirt. The bandages wrapped around my torso were already soaked through with fresh, dark blood.
Yara disappeared into the bedroom, emerging a moment later wearing nothing but one of my oversized black t-shirts, a towel draped over her shoulder to complete the illusion.
Harrison, the Pack Lawyer, stood near the minibar, his face pale and sweating as he clutched his briefcase. He pulled out the standard Rejection documents.
“This is too lenient,” I rasped, my voice carrying a dark, unnatural edge. “Add a Traitor’s Clause.”
Harrison blinked. “Alpha?”