Chapter 209
Chapter 209:
I laughed, pulling a tray of cookies from the oven. The scent of melted butter and sugar filled the air, chasing away the sterile, showroom smell that had been plaguing me since I moved into The Aurelia.
“So you ran away?” I asked, sliding the cookies onto a cooling rack.
“I made a strategic retreat,” she corrected, grinning. “Besides, I’d rather be here. It feels… real p>
I looked at her — this bright, spirited girl so desperate for connection — and felt a pang in my chest. For the first time, this gilded cage felt something like a home.
But the illusion of safety was fragile.
At exactly 5:00 PM, the electronic lock on my front door chirped.
I froze. I hadn’t buzzed anyone in. I hadn’t even heard a knock.
The heavy door swung open and Dallas Marshall walked through it. He filled the entryway, his presence draining the oxygen from the room. Still in his suit, he looked every inch the Alpha King arriving to collect what was his.
𝖱𝖾a𝗱 𝗼𝗇 𝖺𝘯y 𝖽еvі𝘤𝘦 on
“Daddy!” Azalea squeaked, sliding off the counter and ducking behind me.
My heart hammered against my ribs — not from love, but from a sudden, icy spike of fear.
“How did you get in?” I asked, my voice unsteady. “I didn’t give you a key p>
Dallas didn’t blink. He closed the door behind him, the click echoing like a gunshot. “Pack security protocol, Adella. The Alpha holds an emergency override for all high-security residences. Standard procedure p>
Liar.
The word hissed through my mind. It reminded me of Braydon — the tracked phones, the checked receipts, the violations wrapped in the language of protection. But as Dallas stepped closer, his scent of cedar and rain washed over me, and a shiver of involuntary recognition ran down my spine, my body betraying my mind entirely.
He ignored my question, his dark eyes locking onto his daughter, who was peeking out from behind my waist.
“Azalea. Car. Now.” His voice was low, vibrating with suppressed irritation. “You have an etiquette assessment on Monday. Running away to bother Adella isn’t going to get you out of it p>
“I’m not bothering her!” Azalea protested, gripping my shirt. “We’re baking! And I don’t want to learn about tea settings. I want to be a restorer, like Adella. I want to fix things — not just sit there and look pretty p>
“You are a Sterling-Marshall,” Dallas growled, stepping further into the kitchen. The air grew heavy, charged with static. “You have duties. Now let go of Adella and get in the car p>
“No!” Azalea shouted. “You’re a tyrant p>
Dallas’s eyes flashed with a swirl of gold. The atmosphere in the room compressed, gravity seeming to increase tenfold.
“Go p>
It wasn’t a request. It was an Alpha Command.
The force of it slammed into me, buckling my knees. Azalea let out a sob, her body betraying her will as she was compelled to release me. She marched stiffly toward the door, tears streaming down her face, her autonomy stripped away by the sheer weight of his bloodline.
She slammed the door behind her, leaving a ringing silence in her wake.