Chapter 469
She paused, studying my face. “There is one way out, however. Clause 14, Subsection C. If the project is indefinitely suspended by the Alpha’s office, the project lead is entitled to request an unpaid leave of absence without penalty.”
“But the Alpha hasn’t suspended the project,” I said.
“Not yet,” Isabelle replied, her voice carefully neutral.
My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms. Dallas. He had thrown me away like garbage, paraded his new life around, and yet he still wanted to keep me trapped in his building. He wanted to control me — to humiliate me daily by forcing me to work under his roof.
A loophole. A crack in the cage. If I could prove the project was dead, I could leave without paying a cent.
The grief that had been drowning me suddenly evaporated, replaced by a cold, venomous clarity.
“Fine,” I whispered, my voice trembling with rage. “I’ll stay.”
I turned on my heel and walked out. If Dallas Marshall wanted to keep me in his empire, I would use this position to tear it down from the inside. He would pay for every tear I had shed.
Behind me, Isabelle’s eyes glazed over with the telltale shimmer of a mind-link.
She hates you, my King. She truly hates you.
Duncan
The midnight rain did nothing to wash away the stench of decaying Lycan magic in the back-alley parking lot of the private Pack club. I stood hidden in the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watched Gamma Vance Decker practically drag Dallas toward an idling black bulletproof SUV.
Our Alpha King was convulsing. His massive frame trembled violently as he suppressed the agonizing backlash of silver rot and a severed mate-bond.
As Vance shoved him into the backseat, a worn piece of paper slipped from Dallas’s coat pocket and landed near a puddle on the slick asphalt. I waited until the SUV sped off into the night before stepping out to retrieve it.
It was a photograph. Adella, smiling brightly in a Moonpetal garden. I flipped it over.
My Luna. My Life.
The bold, familiar handwriting punched the breath out of my lungs. The brutal public rejection, the sudden appearance of Yara — all of it was a meticulously crafted lie.
I immediately opened a secure mind-link to the Pack’s chief physician. Dr. Vance, I snarled, lacing my psychic voice with the crushing, undeniable authority of a Beta. I am holding a photo of Adella Everett that our King just dropped. Tell me exactly what is killing him, or I walk this straight to her right now.
Silence stretched before Dr. Alistair Vance’s terrified voice echoed in my head. His Lycan heart is rotting, Duncan. The old silver poison combined with the trauma of forcing a rejection on his true mate — his life force is draining. There is an experimental surgery, but he refuses to sign the consent form. He believes his death is the only way to protect her from the Silver Claws.
A cold dread washed over me, quickly replaced by fierce resolve. I would not let my King die for a lie.