Chapter 522
The sharp, violent sound of my palm striking his cheek echoed like a gunshot through the silent study. The force of the blow snapped his head to the side, a stark, angry red handprint blooming instantly across his pale skin.
My hand stung fiercely. My chest heaved as I stared at him. “I hate you,” I breathed, the tears finally spilling over my lashes.
Dallas didn’t raise a hand to defend himself. He didn’t roar. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head back to face me. A thin trickle of dark, blackish blood leaked from the corner of his mouth—I assumed my ring had cut his lip, with no way of knowing that the blood was seeping up from his failing, rotting organs. A broken, desolate smile touched his bloodstained lips.
“Hate me,” he whispered, his voice so fragile it sounded like shattering glass. “It’s easier that way.”
He took a step back, the terrifying Alpha aura vanishing at once, leaving behind a cold, empty void. “The Marking between Braydon and Chelsi proceeds,” he stated, his tone dead and bureaucratic. “Get out of my sight, Adella.”
A sob tore from my throat. I spun on my heel and ran. I threw open the heavy oak doors, sprinted past a horrified Duncan Whitaker in the lobby, and hurled myself into the private elevator. As the brushed steel doors slid shut, sealing me inside my own furious despair, I heard the heavy deadbolts of the study click into place behind me.
Dallas
The moment the deadbolts clicked shut, the iron will holding my shattered body together completely evaporated.
My failing legs gave out. I crashed heavily onto the thick carpet, the impact sending a blinding shockwave of agony through my rotting chest. A violent, wet cough ripped through my throat, and I choked, spitting a mouthful of thick black blood onto the pristine rug.
The side door burst open. Duncan rushed in, his face pale with absolute terror.
“Alpha!” He dropped to his knees beside me, hands glowing faintly as he frantically checked my erratic, failing pulse. “Your heart rate is crashing. We need to get you back to the clinic right now!”
I couldn’t answer. The silver poison was burning my marrow to ash, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the agonizing echo of her voice reverberating through my head. I hate you.
Through the blur of my fading vision, I saw it—resting on the dark carpet, just inches from my blood, was a single long strand of dark hair. Her hair.
My trembling, bloodstained fingers reached out and closed around it, clutching the fragile thread in my palm as though it were the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. I drew my fist to my chest, right over the mechanical whir of the LVAD pump, and closed my eyes against the dark.
The concrete walls of the underground parking garage at Marshall Tower felt like a tomb. I sat in the driver’s seat of my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. In the rearview mirror, my reflection stared back at me—mascara smudged from angry tears, my lips still trembling.
My palm still stung from striking his ashen cheek.
.