Chapter 193
Chapter 193:
The wound was a jagged, angry gash along his ribs — but it was no ordinary cut. The flesh around it had turned blackened and necrotic, dark veins of poison spiderwebbing outward across his skin. It wasn’t healing. For a Lycan, whose body should knit itself together within minutes, that was impossible.
Unless…
“Silver,” I whispered, the realization striking me like a physical blow. “Jared used a silver blade p>
Dallas said nothing. He stared straight ahead, his body radiating a feverish heat I could feel from a foot away.
“This is why you’ve been so sick,” I murmured. I crossed to the sideboard where I knew the first-aid kit was kept, pulling it out with trembling hands. “Why didn’t you tell me? Silver can kill your wolf. It can kill you p>
“It was the price,” he grunted as I returned and knelt beside his chair, beginning to clean the wound. “To get you back p>
This silver wound exists because I exist.
𝘙𝗲a𝘥 𝘧𝗿𝘦𝘦 𝗇o𝘷𝘦𝗅𝗌 𝗼𝘯
The anger I had felt moments ago about the lodge evaporated, replaced by a crushing weight in my chest. He was dying by inches because he had shielded me.
I worked in silence, dabbing away the blood and applying the salve. The muscles beneath my fingers were rock hard, twitching involuntarily with every touch.
“Does it hurt?” I asked softly, pressing the gauze into place.
Dallas looked down at me then. His eyes were pitch black, the irises swallowed entirely by his pupils. The raw intensity of his gaze pinned me where I knelt.
“It only hurts when you stop touching me,” he whispered.
The air left my lungs. Before I could pull away, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist. With a strength that belied his injury, he drew me forward until I was standing between his spread knees.
It was a trap. A beautiful, terrifying trap.
His hands settled on my hips, thumbs pressing into the soft fabric of my dress. He looked up at me, searching my face for the fear — for the rejection he clearly expected.
“You see the weakness now,” he said, his voice rough with pain and something darker. “You see the rot. Do you still promise, Adella? Or do you want to run p>
I looked at the bandage on his side, then back into his abyss-dark eyes. He was giving me an out, testing the strength of my vow.
I placed my hand over his heart and felt the thunderous rhythm beneath my palm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, my voice steady. “I promise p>
He held my gaze for a long moment, as if trying to sear the truth of my words into his soul. Then, slowly, he released my hips and began to button his shirt — hiding the wound, hiding the weakness, sealing himself back inside his armor.
But I knew what lay beneath now. And I knew that the bond between us was no longer just a contract written in ink.
It was written in blood.
By evening, the silence in the penthouse had transformed from peaceful to suffocating. The deed to the Parrish hunting lodge still sat on the marble coffee table, mocking me. Every time I looked at it, I didn’t see a gift — I saw a receipt. A transaction. Compensation for damages.