Chapter 575

Dallas POV

The continuous, piercing tone of the heart monitor echoed through the cavernous room. I stared at the cold brass key resting in my palm. My father was gone.

Before the heavy silence could settle, a muffled, furious roar vibrated through the thick oak doors. Dosha was in the hallway, projecting her Alpha aura, desperately trying to reclaim dominance over my dying father’s territory. It was a blatant challenge — a power play designed to strike while she believed I was vulnerable.

Ragnar, my Lycan, snarled, his patience snapping. I met Adella’s worried gaze, my own eyes flashing a dangerous silver.

Vance, I linked my Gamma, my voice a lethal whip in his mind. Take her to the guest house. Confine her under Dire Guard protocol. No communication. No visitors. She is a hostile Alpha on our soil.

Yes, Alpha, Vance replied instantly. A moment later, the scuffling and shouting outside abruptly ceased.

I needed answers. Leaving Adella under the heavy protection of my personal guard, I descended into the Marshall Family Archives. The air in the stone tunnel was freezing, the rune-carved iron door heavy against my palm.

Safe number three was a rusted 1920s contraption tucked in the darkest corner. The brass key turned with a heavy, satisfying clack.

Inside lay a leather-bound ledger detailing the Norton family’s illegal funding of Rogue factions, and beside it, a jagged stone pulsing with faint, icy magic — a Memory Crystal.

I picked it up, letting my Lycan energy bleed into the cold stone.

Instantly, the basement vanished. I was thrust into a memory — overwhelmed by the sight of Dosha standing in the shadows with a scarred Rogue leader.

“I don’t want him dead,” Dosha’s voice hissed, dripping with venom. “Coat the blades in pure silver. Shatter his leg. Poison his Lycan blood. Make him a cripple. A broken King can never take the throne.”

The vision snapped. I dropped the crystal and fell to my knees on the cold stone floor.

Ragnar unleashed a soul-tearing howl of pure, murderous agony inside my head. The phantom fire of silver flared through my veins. My ruined leg, the agonizing years of physical therapy, the doctor’s cold declaration that I was sterile — none of it had been a tragic casualty of war against the Nortons. It was her. The woman who had shared my father’s bed had orchestrated my destruction simply to clear the path for her own bloodline.

I tapped into the Mind-Link, my rage barely contained. Duncan.

Alpha? my Beta answered.

Get to the estate immediately. I have a Memory Crystal and a ledger. Scan them both. We are presenting the Elders with charges of high treason against Dosha.

I couldn’t breathe in the archives any longer. The beast beneath my skin demanded blood, threatening to tear me apart from the inside. I dragged myself up the stairs and out onto the terrace overlooking the Hudson River.

The night wind was biting, but it did nothing to cool the inferno in my chest. I gripped the stone balustrade, my carbon-fiber leg brace trembling violently in the moonlight. I was a single breath away from shifting and tearing Dosha’s throat out myself.

Then the soft scent of Moonflower and rain-washed grass wrapped around me.

Adella stepped onto the terrace. She didn’t ask questions. She simply draped a thick wool blanket over my shaking shoulders and moved into my side, wrapping her arms around my waist.