Chapter 114
Chapter 114:
I pulled back and watched her. I saw the moment the fear began to recede, replaced by a spark of something new. Something dangerous. She looked at the dress, then at her reflection, and finally at me. Her grip on the fabric tightened.
“Okay,” she whispered.
She hadn’t just agreed to a dress. She had agreed to the war I was about to declare on anyone who dared question her place by my side.
And God help anyone who stood in our way tonight.
Adella POV
The bass in The Den didn’t just vibrate through the floor — it thumped against my ribcage, syncing with the frantic rhythm of my heart. The club was a masterpiece of shadows and sin, bathed in low violet lights that made the crystal chandeliers overhead look like weeping diamonds.
We sat in a secluded VIP booth on the mezzanine, separated from the writhing crowd below by a velvet rope and a sheer drop. Dallas sat beside me, his hand resting possessively on my thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles on the silk of my silver dress. His touch was the only thing grounding me.
“I need to check the perimeter,” Dallas murmured, his lips brushing my ear. His scent — ozone and dark cedar — flared slightly, a sign of agitation. “Vance found something near the back exit. Stay here. Don’t move p>
“Is it… him?” I whispered, terrified he meant Braydon.
“No,” Dallas promised, his eyes hardening. “Just pests. I’ll be two minutes p>
He stood, his massive frame casting a shadow over the table before he disappeared into the gloom of the corridor.
𝗡𝗼𝘃𝘦𝗅𝘴 𝘪𝗇 𝗍r𝘦nd 𝗈ո 𝗴a𝗅ո𝗈𝘃е𝗅ѕ.𝘤𝗼𝗺
As soon as he was gone, the air felt colder. Azalea, sitting across from me, poured herself a glass of champagne. She looked fierce in black velvet, but her eyes tracked the crowd like a warrior on watch.
“Relax, Adella,” she said, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You look like a goddess. Let them stare p>
“They aren’t staring because I look like a goddess, Az. They’re staring because they’re wondering how a wolfless stray ended up in the King’s booth p>
“Let them wonder,” a high, sickly-sweet voice cut in.
I stiffened. Standing at the edge of our booth was a blonde woman with eyes like shards of ice. Seraphina Vance. I knew her type — old money, high status, and a cruelty polished to a shine. She was flanked by two other women who looked at me as if I were something they’d scraped off their heels.
“Seraphina,” Azalea greeted, her voice dropping an octave. “The trash collection isn’t until Tuesday. You’re early p>
Seraphina ignored her, her gaze raking over me with surgical precision. “So the rumors are true. Dallas really did pick up the Hyde Pack’s charity case.” She laughed — a brittle sound. “Tell me, sweetie, did you have to beg for that dress? Or is it payment for being his little wolfless breeder p>
My breath hitched. The word breeder hung in the air, ugly and vile.
“Walk away, Seraphina,” Azalea warned, setting her glass down with a sharp clink.