Chapter 195
Chapter 195:
“Go away, Azalea,” I snapped, wiping my face. “I’m leaving. He told me to go p>
“He told you to go because he’s terrified you’ll see the truth,” she said, walking into the room. She kicked the door shut behind her with her heel.
“What truth? That I’m a burden p>
“No.” Azalea lowered her voice, her expression shifting from annoyed to something almost reverent. “The truth about the rescue. At the docks p>
I paused, a silk blouse dangling from my hand. “What about it p>
“Dad ordered Vance to destroy the body-cam footage from the Warriors who found you,” she said softly. “He wiped the servers this morning p>
“Why? To hide the violence p>
“To hide him,” Azalea corrected. She stepped closer, forcing me to look at her. “I saw the footage before he deleted it, Adella. He wasn’t the Alpha King down there. He was a wreck p>
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean p>
𝘉𝖾 р𝗮𝗿𝗍 𝘰𝗳 𝗈𝘂𝘳 соm𝗺𝘂𝗇𝗶𝘵𝘆 o𝗇 ѕ.𝘤𝗈m
“He was screaming your name,” she whispered. “When he pulled you out of the water, he wasn’t commanding his men. He was begging. He was doing CPR and he was crying — sobbing over you, Adella. Like a broken animal p>
I stared at her, the air leaving my lungs. Dallas? Crying? The man who faced the world with eyes of steel?
“He ordered the footage destroyed because he couldn’t bear for you to see him so undone,” Azalea continued, her voice trembling slightly. “He thinks that kind of desperation is weakness. He thinks if you see how much he needs you — how completely you could destroy him just by not breathing — it will feel like a chain around your neck, and you’ll run p>
She gestured toward the open suitcase.
“And look. He was right. You’re running p>
I looked down at the mess of clothes. The anger that had fueled me moments ago evaporated, replaced by a dull, aching realization. His coldness in the living room wasn’t apathy. It was a shield. He had pushed me away because he was terrified that if he held on too tight, I would feel the tremors in his hands.
He was dying by inches to save me, and he thought his love was the burden.
Slowly, I sat down on the edge of the bed. My hand hovered over the suitcase, but I didn’t close it. I couldn’t leave. Not now. Not when I understood that the monster in the other room was just a man terrified of losing his heart.
“I’m not running,” I whispered — more to myself than to her.
I left the zipper open.
The morning sun did little to warm the chill in the air as I stepped out of the S&D Design building. I had spent the last two hours reviewing fabric samples, forcing myself to focus on work — to prove that I was more than just a liability waiting to be rescued. I wasn’t running from Dallas anymore, but I refused to be a prisoner in that penthouse either.