Chapter 156
Chapter 156:
I stood at the bottom of the stone steps, my fingers clutching the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white. The massive oak doors of the manor loomed before me. I had spent the weekend in a hotel, unable to stomach another night under Victoria’s roof, but I had returned for one final task.
I needed to go back inside. I needed to retrieve the small wooden box in the attic — the one holding the only photographs I had of my parents. And more than that, I needed to look Victoria Hyde in the eye and tell her that her leverage was gone. I needed to break the chains myself.
A low, guttural rumble vibrated through the soles of my shoes.
I turned to see a black SUV — massive and armored like a beast of war — tearing up the driveway. It screeched to a halt inches from where I stood, my startled expression reflected in the dark tinted windows.
The driver’s door swung open, and Dallas Marshall stepped out.
He was dressed in black jeans and a dark t-shirt that strained against the muscles of his chest, looking every bit the lethal Alpha King he was. The wind whipped his dark hair, carrying his scent to me — ozone, cedar, and a storm on the verge of breaking. It hit me like a physical blow.
“Dallas,” I started, my voice wavering slightly as I gestured toward the house. “I was just about to go in. I need to get my parents’ things, and I have to tell Victoria p>
“No p>
𝖥о𝗅𝘭𝗈𝘄 𝘶𝗌 о𝘯
The single word was sharp, cutting through the damp air like a whip. He didn’t shout, but the authority in his tone brooked no argument. He walked around the front of the car, his strides long and purposeful, closing the distance between us in seconds.
“But my things,” I protested, taking a step back toward the stairs. “I can’t just leave them. And the deal p>
Dallas stopped in front of me, his towering frame blocking out the sight of the manor entirely. His obsidian eyes bore into mine, dark and swirling with a possessiveness that made my breath catch.
“As we discussed, Adella,” he stated, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous timbre, “your deal ended the moment I walked you into that Gala. You are done with this place. You are never setting foot in that cage again p>
“I remember,” I whispered, the memory of our conversation in the penthouse surfacing at once — his promise to protect me, his promise that I was his. “But I need closure p>
“Closure is a door that locks from the outside,” he growled. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the passenger door handle, pulling it open in a single fluid, commanding motion. “Get in the car p>
I looked at the open door, then back at the grim façade of Hyde Manor. Part of me felt the sting of frustration — I wanted to be the one to slam the door in Victoria’s face. But as I looked at Dallas, at the fierce, burning protection in his gaze, the fight drained out of me entirely.
I didn’t need to say goodbye to my trauma. I just needed to survive it.
“Okay,” I whispered.