Chapter 19
Chapter 19:
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the unfamiliar room in hues of gold and amber. For the first time in a decade, I didn’t wake to the sound of shouting or the suffocating dread that had been my constant companion at the Hyde pack house. I woke to silence.
But it was a heavy silence, loaded with questions I was too afraid to ask.
I dressed quickly, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of a simple sundress Azalea had left for me. Downstairs, the house hummed with low activity, but I avoided the main corridors and slipped out through the back terrace doors where Azalea was already waiting.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” she chirped, her energy a stark contrast to my quiet unease. She held a heavy, rusted iron key in her hand, twirling it idly around her finger. “Dad’s wrapped up in a Mind-Link meeting with the Beta and Gamma—something about dismantling Braydon’s offshore accounts. Boring stuff. But he told me to show you something p>
𝘙𝘦а𝖽 𝘧𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗻о𝘃е𝗅𝘀 𝘰ո
“Show me what?” I asked, falling into step beside her.
She led me away from the modern glass fortress and down a cobblestone path that wound toward the edge of the forest. There, nestled against the treeline, stood a high stone wall blanketed in thick moss—ancient looking, a relic that had somehow survived the fire that consumed everything else.
“He bought the land six years ago,” Azalea said casually, stopping before a weathered wooden door set into the stone wall. “Everyone thought he was crazy. Why buy a graveyard? But he brought in botanists from the south. Specialists.” She slid the key into the lock. It turned with a heavy, resonant clunk.
“Why?” I whispered, my heart hammering.
“See for yourself p>
She pushed the door open.
The scent hit me first—a wave of nostalgia so potent it nearly dropped me to my knees. A fragrance I hadn’t encountered since childhood: moonflowers and rain-washed grass, delicate and achingly familiar.
I stepped inside, and my breath caught.
Hundreds of white roses filled the enclosure, their petals almost translucent in the morning light. They weren’t just any flowers. They were Moonpetal Roses—my mother’s favorites. The ones that were supposed to be extinct, burned to ash along with her garden.
“He planted them?” My voice broke on the last word.
“He restored them,” a deep, unhurried voice answered from behind me.
I turned. Dallas stood in the archway, his dark suit softened by the gentle garden light. He looked tired, but his eyes—intense and storm-grey—were fixed on me with a focus that stole what little breath I had left. Azalea took one look at us and began backing away with a barely concealed smirk.
“I think I hear my phone ringing. Probably a boy. Don’t wait up.” She disappeared, leaving us alone in the sea of white petals.
Dallas walked toward me with movements that were predatory yet carefully restrained—a wolf approaching a wounded deer. The scent of ozone and cedar drifted from him, weaving through the fragrance of the roses in a combination that was almost unbearably intoxicating.
“You did this?” I gestured helplessly at the garden, tears pricking at my eyes. “Six years ago? I was still engaged to Braydon then. I was nobody p>