Chapter 605 Adella POV
I stared at the emergency medical lockbox, my heart heavy with the weight of an unthinkable choice. Inside sat Dr. Alistair Vance’s vial—a potent cocktail of herbal painkillers and heavy sedatives. It would temporarily suppress Ragnar, Dallas’s Inner Wolf. For an Alpha, losing that connection was a fate worse than death, but I couldn’t let the silver tear him apart.
On the bed, Dallas lay rigid, cold sweat soaking his pillow as his jaw locked in pure agony.
“Dallas,” I whispered, opening the vial and pressing the small plastic cup to his trembling lips. “Drink this. Please. For me.”
Through the haze of his torment, his storm-gray eyes found mine. Driven by the pure, undeniable instinct of our mate-bond, he didn’t question me. He swallowed the bitter liquid without hesitation. Within ten minutes, the tension bled from his massive frame, his ragged breathing smoothing out as he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The room fell dead silent, save for the relentless thunder outside. I walked to the heavy wooden door and locked it, sliding the brass deadbolt into place.
My hands shook as I moved to the foot of the bed. Taking a deep breath, I pulled back the thick white blanket covering his lower half.
Under the harsh, unforgiving glare of the sterile lights, the truth he had hidden in darkness was finally laid bare. My breath hitched.
His left leg was a landscape of melted, wax-like skin—massive, ugly burns left by silver shrapnel. His right leg bore a brutal, jagged surgical scar running all the way from his hip down to his knee, a grim reminder of the silver blade that had nearly severed his spine.
I didn’t feel horror. I didn’t feel disgust. I felt a soul-crushing heartbreak. I finally understood why he never wore shorts, why he always demanded the lights be off when we were intimate.
Dropping to the cold linoleum floor, I gently pressed my lips against the mangled flesh of his knee. I love all of you, I vowed silently, letting my tears fall over his scars.
A sharp buzz from the intercom shattered the quiet.
“Luna! The Alpha’s heart rate dropped!” Vance Decker’s voice was tight with panic. The door handle rattled violently as the Gamma tried his master key, failing against the deadbolt.
I quickly stood, pulling the blanket back up and smoothing it perfectly over Dallas’s legs. I wiped my face and unlocked the door.
Vance burst in, his flinty eyes sweeping the room. He saw my tear-stained cheeks, then his gaze dropped to the perfectly arranged blanket. Realization struck the battle-hardened Warrior instantly—panic and respect warring openly in his expression. He spun around, presenting his broad back to the room.
“Forgive me, Luna. I overstepped,” he said gruffly.
“Turn around, Vance,” I commanded softly.
He did, his eyes heavy with a shared sorrow. “Dosha’s ambush in Siberia,” he murmured, confirming what I had already suspected. “She meant to cripple him. The rival Packs whisper about it. They use this to question his right to rule.”
My sadness hardened into pure, unyielding resolve. “These are not flaws,” I stated, my voice ringing with the absolute authority of a Luna. “They are the sigils of a King. And you will help me make him see that.”
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