Chapter 112

Chapter 112:

I pulled my phone from my pocket, my fingers trembling — not with fear, but with anticipation. I dialed a number that wasn’t saved in my contacts, given to me by a desperate man in a gambling den years ago. It rang twice before a distorted voice answered.

“Yeah p>

“I need a dig,” I said, my voice steady now. “Deep. Dallas Marshall. Specifically his time in the Dire Guard during the Pack Wars p>

“That’s suicide, kid. Those files are sealed by the Council p>

“I don’t care about the cost,” I hissed, staring at the glowing name on the skyline. “Find me the dirt. Find me the war crimes. Find me where the bodies are buried p>

𝗝𝗼𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘂𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗮𝘁

I hung up and watched the rain distort the city lights. Dallas might have the power, and he might have the girl. But monsters always have skeletons in their closets.

And I was going to drag them all into the light.

Dallas

The heavy bag swung violently, the chain groaning in protest against the steel beam above. Thud. Crack.

My fist connected with the leather, splitting the material and my skin simultaneously. Pain was a distant concept — dull and muted compared to the inferno raging in my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him. Braydon Hyde. His hands on her. His sneer.

Kill him, Ragnar roared in the back of my mind, a cacophony of static and bloodlust. Tear his throat out. Claim what is ours.

I struck the bag again, harder. Sand spilled from the rupture, mixing with the blood dripping from my knuckles onto the black rubber mats. The air in the private training room was thick, suffocating with the scent of ozone and my own lethal aggression.

“You’re going to bring the ceiling down, Dallas p>

I didn’t stop. I didn’t even slow down. “Get out, Duncan p>

“I can’t do that,” my Beta said, his voice calm, cutting through the rhythmic violence of my strikes. He stepped into my peripheral vision, arms crossed over his chest. “Not when you’re planning to start a war because a puppy barked at your Mate p>

I caught the bag mid-swing, my breathing ragged. I turned to face him, sweat dripping down my bare chest. “He didn’t just bark. He touched her. He thinks he still owns her p>

“And killing him now makes her a prize to be won, not a queen to be respected,” Duncan countered smoothly. He walked over and handed me a towel. “You have her hidden away in the penthouse like a dirty secret. The Pack is talking. They think she’s fragile. They think she’s your weakness p>

I wiped the blood from my hands, the white terry cloth turning crimson. “She is fragile. The world broke her, Duncan p>

“She is stronger than you give her credit for,” Duncan said, his eyes steady. “Tonight is the opening of The Den. Take her. Don’t hide her in the shadows — put her under the spotlight. Show them she is not your weakness, Alpha. Show them she is your queen p>

I stared at him, the beast inside me pacing, testing the idea. To present her before the wolves who had scorned her was dangerous. But hiding her implied shame.