Chapter 521
Dallas’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, feral gold. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrests of the wheelchair. With a grunt of pure agony, he forced himself upright. His injured leg trembled violently, but sheer willpower kept him on his feet. He dragged his battered body toward me, step by agonizing step, the force of his presence crashing into me like a wave and suffocating the air from my lungs.
I froze, my wolfless body paralyzed by the primal terror of his approach and the horrifying realization of just how broken he truly was.
He stopped inches away, towering over me, his chest heaving as he fought through the pain. “This isn’t jealousy, little wolf,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over my lips. “It’s possession. I’m going to let Chelsi turn Braydon’s life into a living hell—break his spirit until he’s less than an Omega—so he never dares to even look at what is mine again.”
Tears of frustration pricked my eyes as I stared up at the monster I was bound to.
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a dark, velvet trap. “Beg me. Crawl back to my side and admit you belong to me, and only me. Do that… and I’ll give you back the Trust.”
I stood trapped in the suffocating heat of his gaze, the weight of my parents’ legacy and Dallas’s decaying body crushing the last of my defiance.
I stood trapped in the suffocating heat of his gaze, the weight of my parents’ legacy and Dallas’s decaying body crushing the last of my defiance.
Beg me. Crawl back.
The words echoed in the dead air of the study. I stared up at the towering Lycan before me. His storm-gray eyes were entirely swallowed by the pitch-black void of his beast, radiating a possessive, tyrannical hunger that made my wolfless instincts scream. I searched his hollow, ashen face for any trace of the man who had once planted a garden of moonpetals for me—the man who had plunged into a freezing river to save my life.
There was nothing left but a monster playing God with my inheritance.
“You’re disgusting,” I whispered, my voice trembling but laced with absolute, unbreakable conviction.
The words struck him like a silver blade to the chest. For a fraction of a second, the terrifying Alpha mask slipped, revealing a flash of raw, unadulterated agony. But before I could even process the hurt in his eyes, his jaw clenched, and the darkness swallowed him whole again.
He closed the final inch between us. His large, freezing hand shot out, long fingers gripping my chin with a bruising, inescapable force. He leaned down, his nose brushing against my cheek.
“Tell me,” Dallas rasped, his voice a guttural vibration that rattled my bones, “does his scent linger on your lips? Did you let that whelp taste what is mine?”
The sheer, degrading violation of his words ignited a blinding inferno in my chest. He wasn’t just insulting my loyalty—he was reducing me to a piece of marked territory.
Driven by pure, explosive humiliation, I wrenched my face out of his grip, raised my hand, and swung with every ounce of strength I possessed.
Crack.