Chapter 119
Chapter 119:
Lights flickered on automatically, revealing a space that made my jaw drop. It wasn’t a closet — it was a boutique. Rows upon rows of clothing hung on backlit racks: cashmere sweaters in soft pastels, silk blouses, structured blazers, and evening gowns that shimmered like liquid starlight. On the shelves below, shoes were displayed like art pieces — heels, flats, boots. To the right, a vanity gleamed, stocked with jewelry and perfumes.
I stepped inside, my feet sinking into the plush carpet. My fingers brushed against the sleeve of a familiar-looking emerald dress. I checked the tag. It was my size. Exactly my size.
I turned to the shoes. My size.
“Dallas,” I whispered, spinning to face him. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me with a dark, possessive hunger. “Whose are these p>
“Yours,” he stated simply.
“Mine?” I shook my head, trying to process the sheer volume of it all. “But… how? We signed the Binding Protection Contract months ago. How could you possibly have done all this in that time p>
іn𝘀𝗍a𝘯𝘁 𝗮𝖼𝖼𝖾𝘀ѕ 𝗈ո 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝗇o𝘃еl𝘀.со𝗺
Dallas didn’t blink. His expression was stone, but his eyes burned. “I work fast, Adella. When I decide to protect something, I don’t do it halfway. I had my team curate this the moment the ink was dry on our contract.” He walked toward me and stopped inches away, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch was electric, grounding me in the eye of his storm.
“There has never been another woman in this suite,” he vowed, his voice dropping to a rumble that vibrated deep in my chest. “And there never will be. Everything here — it’s all for you p>
Tears pricked my eyes. I had spent my life being the afterthought, the wolfless girl who got the hand-me-downs. And here was the Alpha King, filling a room with treasures just for me, simply because I was his.
“Go shower,” he murmured, nodding toward the bathroom where a fluffy white robe waited. “Wash off the scent of that club. I want you smelling only like me p>
Sunlight sliced through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains, hitting my eyelids with the subtlety of a blade. I groaned, shifting in the massive bed, my hand instinctively reaching out across the dark grey silk sheets to find the source of the warmth that had anchored me through the night.
Cold.
My fingers brushed against empty, frigid fabric. My eyes snapped open.
The space beside me was pristine, the pillows fluffed as if no one had ever slept there. The silence in the penthouse was absolute, heavy enough to crush the air from my lungs.
Panic — sharp and familiar — clawed at my throat. He’s gone.
The thought wasn’t rational, but fear rarely is. I sat up, clutching the duvet to my chest, my heart hammering against my ribs. The memories of last night — the closet filled with clothes, the possessive gleam in his golden eyes, the way he had claimed me as his — suddenly felt like a fever dream. Was it all just a performance? A show of force to humiliate the Hyde Pack, with me as the convenient prop?
I was a wolfless girl. People like Dallas Marshall didn’t keep people like me. They used us, and then they moved on to things that mattered.