Chapter 271
Chapter 271:
The warmth was the first thing I noticed—a heavy, consuming heat that seeped into my bones and chased away the damp chill of the studio. For a fleeting moment, I forgot where I was. I forgot the mold on the walls, the boarded-up windows, and the impending doom waiting at sunrise. I was simply safe, wrapped in the iron bands of Dallas’s arms, his steady heartbeat thumping against my ear like a war drum at rest.
Then his body went rigid.
“He’s coming,” Dallas whispered, the vibration of his voice resonating against my chest. His golden eyes snapped open, alert and predatory.
The spell broke. The cold reality of the morning rushed back in.
𝖯D𝘍𝘴 оո
“Silas?” I breathed, panic spiking through me.
“Yes. He is at the garden gate. You have thirty seconds.” Dallas was already moving, untangling himself from me with a fluid grace that belied his size. He gripped my shoulders, his gaze intense. “The closet. Now p>
I didn’t argue. I scrambled off the dusty velvet sofa, my bare feet slapping against the cold floorboards as I rushed to the narrow storage closet at the back of the room. I wrenched the door open and dove into the darkness, pressing myself between stacks of old canvases and the sharp smell of turpentine.
Through the crack in the door, I watched Dallas move toward the back window. He paused, glancing back at the sofa.
“Damn it,” he hissed.
His suit jacket. The expensive charcoal fabric was still draped over the arm of the sofa where he had laid it over me the night before. It was too late to retrieve it. The sound of a key turning in the front lock echoed through the room.
Dallas didn’t hesitate. With a silent snarl, he vaulted through the broken rear window and vanished into the overgrown shrubbery just as the front door creaked open.
Silas Thorne stepped inside.
My cousin looked impeccable as always—suit pressed, hair slicked back—but the stench of his anxiety, sour and metallic, drifted even to my hiding place. He scanned the room, his nose twitching.
“Adella?” he called out, his voice sharp.
I drew a slow breath, steadied myself, and pushed the closet door open. “I’m here, Silas p>
He spun around, eyes narrowing as they landed on me. Then his gaze drifted to the sofa. He crossed to it slowly, reached down, and lifted Dallas’s jacket. He brought the fabric to his nose and inhaled. His face twisted with confusion and something close to fear.
“This isn’t yours,” Silas murmured, his fingers tightening on the lapel. “Cedar. Rain. And power. Who was here, Adella p>
My heart hammered. If he suspected the Lycan King was lurking in the shrubbery beyond the window, he would call Volkov within minutes.
“It was Father’s,” I lied, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands. “I found it in the old trunk in the corner. It was freezing last night, Silas. Or did you forget that when you locked me in a building with no heat p>