Chapter 150

Chapter 150:

I sat in my black sedan, parked in the shadow of an oak tree down the street from the Hyde estate, fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel.

The front door opened. Adella — looking infuriatingly expensive in clothes she definitely couldn’t afford — helped that old witch Victoria into the passenger seat of a beat-up SUV.

“Finally,” I muttered.

I pulled out my phone and opened the tracking app I had installed weeks ago. I didn’t trust Braydon as far as I could throw him. He was weak, easily led, and hopelessly obsessed with his little charity case. I needed to know where he was every second of the day.

But when the map loaded, the red dot linked to Braydon’s phone wasn’t in the house.

It was moving.

I watched the screen, frowning. The dot was moving in perfect sync with Adella’s car as it pulled out of the driveway.

My blood ran cold, then hot with fury. Braydon wasn’t in the car. He had planted a tracker on her.

“You obsessed, pathetic little man,” I hissed, gripping the phone until the screen creaked.

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗻

He was still chasing her. Still watching her.

I threw the car into gear, my engine purring like a stalking cat. If Braydon wanted to play games, so did I. And unlike him, I didn’t plan on losing.

The Hyde Pack’s elite shopping promenade was a place where the air itself seemed filtered, carrying the scent of expensive perfume and the distinct, metallic tang of arrogance. It was a world I had never belonged to, and walking through it now — even in my cashmere sweater — I felt like an imposter.

I had left Victoria on a wrought-iron bench near a manicured hedge, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth, her theatrical wheezing drawing sympathetic glances from passing shoppers.

“Water,” she had gasped, waving a limp hand toward a vendor cart down the cobblestone path. “Ice cold, Adella. My throat is on fire p>

I walked toward the cart, my mind still churning with Braydon’s poisonous words. Breeder. Vessel. Was that all I was to Dallas? A biological lockbox for a powerful bloodline?

“Well, look who crawled out of the gutter p>

The voice was sharp, dripping with familiar, sugary venom. I stopped.

Katherine Parrish stepped out from the shadow of a boutique awning. She looked immaculate in a silk sundress, but her eyes were wild — rimmed with sleeplessness and rage. Beside her stood her younger sister, Chelsi, who mirrored Katherine’s sneer like a trained parrot.

“Katherine,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “I don’t have time for this p>

I moved to step around them, but Chelsi shifted with surprising speed, her fingers digging into my bicep. “You aren’t going anywhere, wolfless p>

“Let go of me,” I warned, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Katherine stepped into my personal space, smelling of jasmine and sour anxiety. “You think you’re special because you’re warming the Lycan King’s bed? You’re just a stray dog living off his scraps, Adella. Once he gets what he wants, he’ll toss you aside just like everyone else p>