Chapter 212
Chapter 212:
“It’s for Azalea,” I said smoothly, though Ragnar was howling in triumph. “She needs to see a united front. She needs to see her parents in the same den. Unless, of course, you don’t care enough about her happiness to make that sacrifice p>
Emotional blackmail, pure and simple. And it worked perfectly.
Adella closed her eyes. She was fighting a war she had already lost. She loved that girl too much. And deep down, beneath the fear and the old wounds, I could see it plainly — she wanted this too, even if she was terrified to admit it.
“Fine,” she breathed, the word barely audible.
“Good.” I straightened up, buttoned my suit jacket, and let the mask of the Alpha King slide back into place. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving now p>
She looked at me, startled by the suddenness of it, a flicker of panic crossing her face. She had realized, too late, that she had been outmaneuvered — her compassion weaponized against her independence.
But it was too late. I had my bird back. Now I just had to make sure she never wanted to fly away again.
Adella
The silence in the Penthouse kitchen was heavier than the cast-iron skillet resting on the stove. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but it did nothing to warm the chill radiating from the man sitting at the head of the island.
J𝘰𝗶𝗇 𝗈𝘶r сom𝘮𝘂𝗻𝘪𝘁𝗒 o𝗇
Dallas Marshall ate his breakfast with the precision of a predator dissecting its kill. The air smelled of freshly brewed coffee, sugar-dusted crepes, and the underlying, ever-present scent of him — storm clouds and cedar. It was a scent that made my skin prickle, a constant reminder that I had agreed to sleep in the lion’s den to protect my cub.
I picked at my bacon, my appetite nonexistent. Just as I was about to excuse myself to check on Azalea, Dallas froze.
His fork paused halfway to his mouth. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees in a heartbeat. His eyes darkened to the color of a bruised sky as a Mind-Link struck him. I couldn’t hear the words, but I felt the wave of lethal aggression rolling off him like heat from a furnace.
Ragnar. His beast was surfacing, claws scrabbling for purchase.
“Dallas?” I whispered, my grip tightening on my fork.
He set his cutlery down. The sound of metal meeting ceramic was deafening in the quiet room.
“Braydon Hyde is at the gate,” he said, his voice a low rumble that rattled my ribcage. “He is demanding to see you p>
My stomach lurched.
“I will have Gamma Leon handle it,” Dallas continued, pushing his chair back. The legs scraped harshly across the marble. “If he values his life, he will leave. If not, the cleaners will have work to do p>
“No p>
The word left my mouth before I could think. Dallas stopped and turned his predatory gaze on me, his eyebrows drawing together in a silent challenge.
“No?” he repeated, soft and dangerous.