Chapter 549
She is. The protocol is active. I paused, steeling my heart against the cruelty of what came next. I knew the terrifying depth of a Lycan’s obsession. If Dallas believed there was even a fraction of a chance to find her, he would tear the world apart—bleeding out his Pack’s last resources and exposing them both to Dosha’s blade. Now you must deliver the final blow. When my grandson wakes, you will give him the Decree.
Tell him she signed it without a moment’s hesitation, I ordered. Tell him—she said she couldn’t stomach being Marked by a cripple.
A heavy, stunned silence stretched across the Mind-Link. Elder— Dr. Vance stammered, his mental projection trembling with resistance. That will destroy him. It is too cruel.
It is necessary, Doctor, I snapped, crushing his hesitation with the full weight of my will. It is the only thing that will make him let her go. It is the only way to save his life.
Another long pause followed before Dr. Vance finally yielded.
Understood, Elder.
I clawed my way out of the suffocating darkness, my lungs burning as if I had inhaled liquid fire. The blinding, sterile lights of the Sanctuary pierced my retinas. But it wasn’t the lingering agony of the silver poisoning or the phantom ache of my stopped heart that made me freeze.
It was the absence.
There was only the sharp, cold feeling of the room around me. Her presence—that warm, anchoring sensation that always calmed the raging beast inside me—was entirely gone.
The door clicked open. Dr. Alistair Vance stepped into the room, his face pale and drawn. He carried a silver tray, and resting upon it was a single piece of parchment sealed with the golden wax crest of the Marshall family.
My chest tightened. I knew what it was. I had orchestrated this very moment—yet seeing it made my blood run cold.
With trembling, heavy fingers, I broke the seal. The Decree of Severance. At the bottom, signed in sharp blue ink, was the name permanently branded onto my soul: Adella Everett.
“Did she…” My voice was a broken, gravelly rasp. “Did she leave a message?”
Dr. Vance swallowed hard, unable to meet my eyes. The guilt and terror radiating from him was suffocating. “She said she couldn’t stomach being Marked by a cripple.”
The words hit me like a silver bullet straight to the chest. Inside my mind, Ragnar let out a blood-curdling, silent howl of pure agony. The rejection tore through our soul, leaving nothing but a gaping, bleeding void. I crushed the parchment in my fist, my knuckles turning white.
It was the cruelest mercy. The lie was a poisoned dagger, but my twisted logic whispered the truth beneath it: it worked. I had successfully pushed her off my sinking ship. She was free from a dying King.
“Get Duncan,” I growled, the sound vibrating with raw, unstable power.
“Alpha, please,” Dr. Vance pleaded, stepping forward. “Your heart cannot take any stress. You need to rest—”