Chapter 548
Down in the brightly lit intensive care unit, the man I loved was drowning in a sea of wires and tubes. Dallas lay motionless, a ventilator forcing his chest to rise and fall in a rhythmic, mechanical mockery of life. I pressed my palms flat against the glass, desperate for the familiar, intoxicating presence of his Lycan blood—that wild mix of storm and cedar. But the enchantment blocked everything. There was only the sterile, suffocating weight of my own fear.
Tears blurred my vision. I traced the outline of his pale face through the glass, imagining the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips.
“I’m saving the best part of you, my love,” I mouthed silently, my hand dropping to rest protectively over my flat stomach. “Wait for me.”
The heavy door behind me clicked open. The crisp scent of old parchment and sharp lilac filled the small space. Eleanor “Gigi” Marshall stood in the doorway, her posture rigid, her expression unreadable.
“It’s time,” she said quietly.
I took one last, agonizing look at Dallas, burning his image into my memory. Then I turned my back on the glass and walked toward the door. I didn’t look back.
Eleanor “Gigi” Marshall
The underground garage at Marshall Tower was a cavern of cold concrete and echoing silence. A black, unmarked armored SUV sat idling, its engine a low, impatient growl. Three Warriors in tactical gear stood positioned by the doors.
I turned to Adella. She looked fragile, clutching her duffel bag, but the fire in her eyes was undeniable.
“This is Weston,” I said, gesturing to the lead Warrior. A jagged, faded scar cut across his cheek. “He is the commander of the Dire Guard and the executor of the Ghost Protocol. He and his men will protect you with their lives.”
Weston gave a curt, respectful nod. Adella acknowledged him briefly, but her gaze returned to me.
“From this moment on, Adella Everett is dead to the world,” I commanded, letting my Elder presence bleed into the words, heavy and absolute. “You will not contact anyone. Not Azalea. Not Serena. Any slip of emotion, any breadcrumb you leave behind, will lead Dosha straight to you and the pup.”
Adella swallowed hard, her knuckles turning white on the strap of her bag.
“And you must remember the narrative,” I pressed, stepping closer to ensure she felt the full gravity of what we were doing. “You signed the Decree of Severance because you couldn’t bear a broken Alpha.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, but she held her head high. “For the child,” she whispered fiercely.
She climbed into the back of the SUV. The heavy door slammed shut, the deeply tinted windows instantly swallowing her whole—severing her from her past. I stood in the damp chill of the garage and watched the vehicle accelerate up the ramp, disappearing into the gray morning light.
Once the taillights vanished, I closed my eyes and reached into the Pack’s encrypted network.
Dr. Vance, I called through the Mind-Link, my mental voice sharp and authoritative.
Elder Marshall. Dr. Alistair Vance’s voice echoed back, laced with exhaustion. Is she gone?