Chapter 623
I grabbed the plastic cup from the display table and hurled the iced coffee directly into his face.
The freezing liquid and ice cubes smacked against his features, splashing dark brown stains across his expensive designer suit. Julian gasped, stumbling backward as the shock registered.
His shock mutated instantly into pure, unadulterated rage. His Inner Wolf howled, humiliated by a wolfless girl in a public space.
“Grab her!” Julian roared, wiping the dripping coffee from his eyes.
Two massive Malcolm faction Warriors materialized from the front of the store. They hesitated for a split second — likely aware of the shifting political tides — but their ingrained obedience to the Elder’s heir forced them to lunge. They seized my arms with brutal force, pinning them painfully behind my back. I struggled against their iron grips, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“Dallas is right outside!” I warned, my voice echoing through the boutique. “If you touch me, he will kill you!”
Julian let out a dark, mocking laugh, stepping closer to loom over me. “What’s the cripple in the wheelchair going to do? Roll over my toes?”
CRASH.
The magically reinforced glass doors of the boutique didn’t simply break — they exploded inward.
A shower of jagged shards rained across the polished marble floor. Through the ruined doorframe stepped Gamma Vance Decker, his fist still raised from the devastating blow. But it wasn’t Vance who sucked the oxygen out of the room.
Dallas Marshall rolled through the shattered entrance in his black, high-tech wheelchair.
He didn’t look like a cripple. He looked like a dark god descending upon his throne. His storm-gray eyes had bled completely into the molten, predatory gold of his Lycan, Ragnar. The suffocating scent of violent storms and cedar flooded the boutique, carrying a murderous Alpha aura so heavy it forced the boutique staff to their knees.
Behind him, a dozen Dire Guard Warriors flooded the space, weapons drawn, eyes locked onto the men holding me.
Dallas’s glowing gaze fixed on the two renegade Warriors.
“Let. Her. Go,” Dallas commanded.
The sheer, terrifying weight of his Alpha’s Command slammed into them. Their Inner Wolves whimpered in absolute terror. Their hands trembled violently before they instinctively released me, backing away as though they had been burned.
I stumbled forward, running straight to Dallas’s side. He immediately pulled me behind the protective bulk of his wheelchair, his large hand briefly gripping my wrist to ensure I was safe.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked, his voice a low, vibrating rumble.
“No,” I breathed.
Dallas’s jaw locked. He didn’t look at Julian yet. He looked at Vance. “Clear the room.”
It took exactly three seconds. The Dire Guards moved like lethal shadows, using brutal joint locks and chokeholds to slam Julian’s two Warriors face-down onto the marble floor, neutralizing them completely.
Dallas reached down and picked up the silver-handled cane resting against his wheelchair.