Chapter 551
Adella POV
A week had passed since the Marshall Industries jet dropped me into this gilded cage. Outside the reinforced windows, the Rockies stretched into an endless, suffocating expanse of snow-draped pines.
Inside, the safe house carried the warm scent of Martha’s rich beef stew and the crackling hearth — comforts that today were entirely overshadowed by the weight of the woman sitting across from me.
Eleanor “Gigi” Marshall filled the room with a suffocating gravity. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Elder Malcolm was already trying to rally the council back home in Dallas’s absence, yet she had risked the journey anyway.
“He is liquidating the Hyde assets,” Gigi said softly, her aged eyes fixed on my slightly trembling hands. “He’s buying up tech firms and burying the profits into an impenetrable trust for you. It’s a manic, self-destructive crusade.”
My chest tightened, my hand instinctively moving to my flat stomach. “He’s pushing himself into an early grave to build a wall of money around me.”
Gigi leaned forward, her expression breaking with a profound, ancient sorrow. “He’s not just dying, child. He believes he’s already dead. He thinks the beast inside him — Ragnar — is gone. That he’s nothing but a broken shell.”
The words shattered whatever fragile composure I had left. The Decree of Severance. The cruel rejection. It wasn’t simply him pushing me off a sinking ship — it was a quarantine. He thought he was a monster stripped of his wolf, unworthy of a mate, unworthy of a future.
Before the first tear could fall, a piercing mechanical shriek tore through the cabin.
The defensive magic runes carved into the window frames and doorframes flared a blinding, violent red. The heavy oak door to the study burst open, and Weston — the head of my Dire Guard detail — rushed in. The room instantly filled with the sharp energy of a Warrior: tense, coiled, and ready.
“Lockdown!” Weston barked, his eyes glowing a faint, unnatural gold as he communicated with his team through the Mind-Link. He turned to Gigi. “A flock of crows approaching from the south. They’ve been enchanted by a Blood Witch. They’re scouting for the White Wolf scent.”
Dosha. The Crimson Paw Alpha Female was casting a wide, dark net — hunting for the unborn Marshall heir.
“Activate the obsidian threads,” Gigi ordered, stepping instantly in front of me and shielding my body with her own.
Outside, the snow-white landscape erupted in flashes of dark violet fire. The obsidian thread rune arrays hidden in the treeline ignited, incinerating the enchanted birds mid-air. Ash rained down against the glass like black snow.
“They’re neutralized,” Weston reported, his jaw tight. “But the perimeter is burned. They know magic was triggered here.”
Gigi cursed under her breath, adjusting her coat. “Dosha is fishing. If she traces my movements here, she’ll know exactly who you’re hiding. I have to leave for New York immediately to establish an alibi.”