Chapter 631
Adella POV
The ride to Marshall Tower was a blur of shifting cityscapes, but the moment I pushed Dallas’s wheelchair into the top-floor boardroom known as the Aerie, the gravity of his surprise hit me.
The room was a fortress in the sky. Floor-to-ceiling, 360-degree bulletproof glass offered a sweeping, god-like view of the Blackwood Pack territory. In the center sat a massive table carved from a single slab of obsidian. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, old parchment, and the sharp, storm-and-cedar tang of Dallas’s Lycan aura. He was nervous.
Beta Duncan Whitaker was already waiting, his posture rigid with absolute reverence. Spread across the obsidian surface were several heavy parchment folders, each glowing faintly with the crimson hum of blood magic seals.
“What is all this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Duncan stepped back, allowing Dallas to wheel himself to the head of the table. “The Sunstone Mines,” Duncan announced, his Inner Wolf practically bowing to the magnitude of the moment. “The deeds to three Alpha-grade Sanctuaries. And the absolute Luna Regency of the Marshall Blood Trust.”
My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the ancient documents, my mind spinning. This wasn’t just wealth — this was the foundation of the Blackwood Pack. It was enough power to topple empires.
“Dallas, no,” I gasped, stepping back. “This is too much. I don’t need—”
“I need you to have it,” Dallas interrupted, his voice a raw, gravelly rasp. He reached out, his large, scarred hand wrapping around my wrist to pull me closer. His storm-gray eyes were entirely stripped of their usual Alpha armor, exposing the terrified, vulnerable man underneath.
“I am walking into a surgery with a fifty percent survival rate, Adella,” he murmured, his thumb tracing my pulse. “If I die on that table — or if I wake up as a permanently wolfless shell — I need to know that you will never have to bow to another Alpha. You will have the power to crush anyone who dares to look at you or our pup.”
He paused, his chest heaving as Ragnar fought a brutal war between Lycan possessiveness and absolute surrender.
“But more than that,” Dallas whispered, his gaze piercing straight through to my soul. “This is a silver dagger I’m placing in your hand, Adella. I am giving you the power to destroy me and my legacy. I need to know that when you have everything — when you don’t need me for protection or survival — you will still choose to stay.”
Tears blurred my vision. It was the ultimate, paranoid test of a broken King who had been betrayed by everyone he had ever trusted. He was offering me his throat, begging me not to cut it.
I didn’t hesitate. I picked up the silver needle from the table, pricked my finger, and pressed my blood onto the signature lines of every single parchment. The ancient magic flared, binding the empire to my name.