Chapter 520
The brushed stainless steel of the private elevator reflected my pale, furious face as I ascended to the penthouse of Marshall Tower. The air inside the cabin was frigid, carrying a faint, unsettling trace of antiseptic that made my stomach churn. Yesterday, Dallas had hijacked my parents’ sacred legacy—the Everett Trust—and weaponized it to force Braydon Hyde into a Marking ceremony with Chelsi Parrish. He had played God with my inheritance, and I was done being a pawn in his twisted games.
The doors slid open to the quiet lobby. The plush, dark gray carpet muffled my determined strides. Standing like a sentinel before the heavy double oak doors of the study was Duncan Whitaker. The Beta looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes deep and dark.
“Luna,” Duncan started, holding up a hand, his tone firm but weary. “The Alpha King is resting. You cannot go in there.”
My blood boiled. “He made this my business when he used my parents’ graves as his chessboard,” I snarled, my voice trembling with rage. “Get out of my way, Duncan, or I swear to the Goddess, I will go through you.”
Duncan hesitated. He could feel the agonizing resonance of the mate-bond I shared with his Alpha vibrating in the space between us. With a defeated sigh, he stepped aside.
I shoved the heavy oak doors open and marched into the study.
The room was suffocatingly warm, yet the air felt heavy and dead. Against the backdrop of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the gray city skyline, Dallas sat in a wheelchair, his broad back to me.
“Give me back the Everett Trust, Dallas.” I stopped a few feet away, my hands clenched at my sides. “You want to destroy Braydon? Fine. He tried to force a Mark on me. I don’t care what happens to him.”
The wheelchair whirred as he slowly turned to face me. My breath hitched. He looked like a ghost of the terrifying Alpha King I knew. His skin was ashen, deep purple circles bruising the delicate skin beneath his eyes. Despite the stifling heat of the room, he was swallowed in a thick, dark cashmere sweater.
“Why do you care?” His voice was a raw, hollow rasp. “Why do you bleed for a man who tried to force himself on you?”
“I don’t care about him!” I yelled, my hands balling into fists. “I care that you think you can use my parents’ legacy as your weapon. The Everett Trust is mine. It’s all I have left of them. You don’t get to decide my future—you already made that choice when you threw me out.”
A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his pale lips. “You treated our marriage as a transaction, Adella. You threw my Lycan heart away like trash, and now you preach to me about souls?”
“Is this what this is?” I stepped closer, my chest heaving. “Jealousy? You’re destroying Braydon because you’re jealous?”