Chapter 152

Chapter 152:

I wasn’t going to tell Dallas. I wasn’t going to hide in the car. I was going to walk into the Sterling Gala tonight with this mark burning on my skin, covered only by the thinnest layer of makeup — and let the scent of my blood and Katherine’s jealousy speak for itself.

Dallas

The Sterling Estate was a suffocating cage of crystal chandeliers and forced politeness. The air was thick with cloying perfume, roasted duck, and the underlying metallic tang of ambition radiating from every Alpha in the room.

I hated it. Ragnar paced restlessly in the back of my mind, agitated by the proximity of so many potential threats. The only thing keeping him — and me — grounded was the woman standing beside me.

Adella.

She was a vision in sapphire silk, her spine straight, her chin held high. To the rest of the room, she was the controversial wolfless girl on the arm of the Lycan King — a curiosity to be dissected. To me, she was the only thing that mattered. I kept my hand firmly at the small of her back, a silent warning to anyone foolish enough to look at her for too long. Across the room, my aunt Augusta watched us like a hawk circling prey, waiting for a mistake.

I was midway through a tedious conversation with Elder Thomas about territory borders when Adella shifted slightly and offered him a polite, tight-lipped smile.

𝗬о𝗎𝗋 ոe𝘹𝗍 𝖿𝗮𝘷ori𝘁𝘦 𝘳e𝘢𝖽 іѕ 𝘰𝗇

And that was when I smelled it.

It was faint, buried beneath her unique, intoxicating scent of moonflower and rain-soaked grass. A sharp, chemical sweetness. Concealer. And beneath that — copper. Fresh, hot copper.

Blood. She bleeds, Ragnar snarled, the sound vibrating through my bones.

My nostrils flared as I inhaled deeper. There was something else clinging to her skin — a sour, acidic note that didn’t belong to her. The lingering pheromones of another female, one reeking of jealousy and aggression.

“Alpha Marshall?” Elder Thomas asked, noticing my sudden stillness.

I ignored him. My grip on Adella’s arm tightened, perhaps a fraction too hard. “Come with me p>

“Dallas, I p>

“Now,” I growled, leaving no room for argument.

I steered her away from the crowd, ignoring the whispers trailing in our wake and the narrowed, suspicious gaze of my aunt. I didn’t stop until we reached a secluded corridor near the restrooms, where heavy velvet curtains dampened the noise of the party.

The lighting here was harsh — modern sconces that left no shadows to hide in. I turned her to face me, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Look at me,” I commanded.

Adella looked up. Her eyes were defiant, but I saw the tremor in her hands. She wasn’t afraid of me. She was waiting for me. Testing me.

I reached out, my thumb tracing the curve of her left cheek. The skin felt hot, feverish. With deliberate, unyielding pressure, I wiped.

The heavy makeup smeared, and the angry crimson truth beneath was revealed.

A handprint.

The air in the corridor seemed to drop twenty degrees. Time froze.