Chapter 170
Chapter 170:
Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the space with natural light. In the center stood a professional-grade drafting table. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with rare pigments, gold leaf, and the specific, expensive solvents I used for restoration work but could never afford. On a small side table, a Moonflower candle flickered, filling the air with the scent of my childhood dreams.
He had built me a studio.
Tears pricked my eyes, hot and fast. But alongside the gratitude, a familiar, poisonous shame coiled in my stomach. I was wolfless. I had nothing to offer a King. In the Hyde Pack, gifts like this came with a price. They were always transactions.
“Dallas,” I turned to face him. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching me with an intensity that weakened my knees. “You didn’t have to do this. I know the Alpha code — you provide shelter, and the Mate provides submission. But this is too much for just a duty p>
The air in the room dropped ten degrees in an instant.
Dallas moved so fast I didn’t see him cross the space. One moment he was by the door; the next, I was backed against the drafting table, his hands planted on either side of me, caging me in.
His eyes flashed a brilliant, glowing amber. Ragnar was close to the surface.
“Stop calling it a duty!” he roared, the sound vibrating through my chest. “A duty is something I can walk away from. A contract is something I can break. But this—” He seized my hand and pressed it flat against his chest, right over his thundering heart. “You — there is no walking away. Not for me p>
His voice cracked on the last word, and the depth of desperation it revealed shattered every last one of my defenses. He wasn’t trying to buy me. He was trying to keep me.
𝘚𝗮𝘷𝘦 уо𝘂𝗿 𝖿𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝘪𝗍𝖾 ո𝗼𝘃𝖾ls 𝗼𝗇
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the tears finally spilling over. “I’m just so used to being a burden p>
I reached up and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. He stiffened for a moment, then let out a shuddering breath and folded into me, his arms crushing me against him. We stood there for a long time, the anger dissolving into the scent of cedar and rain.
Hours later, the sun had set, leaving the city below us twinkling like a sea of diamonds. We sat on the living room floor with a half-eaten pizza box between us. It felt domestic. Normal.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting a work email.
Unknown Number: I have your mother’s locket. The silver one with the moonstone. If you want it back, come to the old shipyard. Pier 4. Alone. Tonight. Or I melt it down.
My blood ran cold.
My mother’s locket. It had disappeared the night of the fire — the night my parents died. It was the only piece of her I had left, besides my memories.
I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering. It was a trap. I knew it was a trap. But the thought of losing that locket, of letting someone melt down the last tangible piece of her, was unbearable.
“Adella?” Dallas’s voice sharpened. “What is it p>
I quickly locked the screen and shoved the phone back into my pocket. “Nothing. Just spam p>