Chapter 130

Chapter 130:

Somewhere in this house, Victoria was hiding pieces of my mother. Letters she had never shown me. Photographs she had kept secret for fifteen years. I didn’t know if they held answers. I didn’t know if they held anything at all.

But I was going to find out.

Adella

I hadn’t slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Braydon’s face, felt his hands on me, heard his voice in my ear. And every time I opened them, those two words were burned into my memory.

The storm outside battered the windows of Hyde Manor with a relentless rhythm that matched the ache in my chest.

I was about to bury my face in the pillow and scream when the phone buzzed again.

Incoming Call: Azalea.

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the decline button. I wasn’t in the mood to be analyzed by Dallas’s sharp-tongued adopted daughter, but the persistent vibration felt like a lifeline in the suffocating silence of the room.

“Hello?” My voice was thick, betraying the tears I hadn’t shed.

“He’s going to die, you know,” Azalea said. No greeting. Just drama.

𝖱оm𝖺𝗇𝘤e ո𝘰v𝘦𝗹s 𝗈𝘯

I sat up, wiping my eyes. “What are you talking about p>

“Dallas. He’s locked himself in his office at the tower. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, he’s drinking that amber poison he calls whiskey like it’s water, and the Mind-Link coming off him feels like a nuclear winter.” I could hear the crunch of cereal on her end. “If he gets an ulcer and bleeds out on his mahogany desk, the Pack is going to blame their absentee Luna. Just saying p>

“He doesn’t want to see me, Azalea,” I whispered, the hurt resurfacing. “He saw me with Braydon and he drove away. He thinks I’m… messy. He sent me ‘Sleep well’ like I was a stranger p>

“He thinks you’re an idiot for standing in the rain,” she countered, her voice softening just a fraction. “And that ‘Sleep well’ thing? That’s not him being cold, Adella. That’s him being terrified. He doesn’t know what else to say, so he says the only thing that won’t make him fall apart.” She paused. “Look, the man is pacing like a caged tiger. He’s not indifferent. He’s destructively furious. There’s a difference. Fix it, or I’m going to have to start interviewing new stepmothers p>

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone. Destructively furious. Not indifferent.

My heart gave a traitorous leap. If he was angry, he wasn’t indifferent. Anger I could handle. Indifference was a death sentence.

I grabbed the encrypted phone and typed: He’s not answering. I’m coming to you.

The reply came instantly: No. Stay there. If he sees you left, he’ll lose it completely. I’ll handle him. You just… stay safe.

I hesitated, then typed: Every six hours. Safe.

Her reply: Good luck, step-Luna.

I grabbed my coat. Leaving Hyde Manor wasn’t simple — it was a prison disguised as a palace. I slipped into the hallway, the floorboards creaking under my boots. At the top of the stairs, I ran into the night nurse, a stern woman named Martha who watched over Victoria.

“Going somewhere, Miss Everett?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.