Chapter 116
Chapter 116:
Dallas didn’t look at her. He didn’t even blink. His golden eyes were locked on the crimson smear staining my silver sleeve, tracking the slow drip of blood down to my wrist. His jaw was set so hard a muscle feathered violently in his cheek. I could feel the heat radiating off him — not just body heat, but the scorching, electric aura of his Lycan, Ragnar, pacing just beneath his skin, demanding retribution.
He reached out, his large, calloused fingers hovering over the wound without touching it, as if afraid he might shatter me.
“Jenna,” Dallas said. His voice was soft — terrifyingly calm.
A woman in a sharp black suit materialized from the shadows of the VIP entrance. Jenna, the club manager, looked pale but composed, her eyes fixed on the floor in submission.
“Yes, Alpha King,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly.
Dallas finally tore his gaze from my arm. He turned his head slowly toward Seraphina, looking at her not with anger, but with the indifference one might show a cockroach before crushing it.
“Remove it,” he ordered. “And inform the Vance family that Seraphina is hereby barred from The Den, the hotel, and every property under the Blackwood name. If she steps foot on my territory again, she will be treated as a Rogue trespasser p>
Seraphina let out a choked sob, her knees giving way. “Dallas, please! It was an accident! I didn’t mean to p>
“You didn’t mean to scratch her?” Dallas cut in, his voice dropping to a lethal growl that vibrated through the floorboards. “Which implies you meant to scratch Azalea. Do you think I tolerate violence in my establishment, Seraphina? Do you think I tolerate filth?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture.
𝖢𝗁𝘪nе𝘀е 𝗇𝗼𝗏e𝗅s 𝘵r𝖺𝗇𝗌𝘭𝗮𝘁𝖾𝗱 o𝘯
Two massive Pack Warriors stepped out from behind Jenna. They didn’t offer Seraphina the dignity of walking; they grabbed her by the arms and dragged her backward. Her heels scraped uselessly against the floor as she was hauled away, her wails cut off as the heavy soundproof doors slammed shut.
The tension in the booth didn’t dissipate — it simply shifted.
Dallas turned to Azalea. She was still standing by the table, her chest heaving, her knuckles white where she gripped the back of a chair. She looked ready for a fight, or perhaps an execution.
Dallas surveyed the mess on the table — the spilled champagne, the overturned ice bucket, the shards of broken glass. Then the gold in his eyes receded slightly, returning to that deep, endless obsidian. “Next time,” he murmured, a dark, dry amusement curling the corner of his lip, “use the entire bottle p>
Azalea blinked, the air rushing back into her lungs in a gasp. A shaky smile touched her lips. “Noted, Alpha p>
“I want to go home,” I whispered, the adrenaline finally crashing. My arm throbbed with a sharp, stinging heat, and I felt sticky and exposed. “Please, Dallas. I just want to go back to the apartment p>
“No.” The refusal was instant.
“Dallas p>
“Vance is already mind-linking me,” Dallas interrupted, his gaze snapping to the corridor behind us. “The vultures are circling, Adella. Word of the altercation has already leaked. There are spies from the Southern Packs outside the front and back exits, waiting to see if the rumors are true — if the Alpha King’s mate is weak. If she is injured p>