Chapter 327
“No!” The denial roared out of me, making the monitors spike. I stood, unable to keep my distance any longer. I reached for her hand, and though she flinched, she didn’t pull away.
“The debt is why I watched over you from the shadows after the attack,” I said, gripping her fingers. “It’s why I knew where you were. But the bond? The sparks?” I placed her hand against my chest, right over my thundering heart. “Adella, the Moon Goddess doesn’t care about debts. When I saw you at the Gala, I didn’t see Elara’s daughter. I saw you. Ragnar screamed ‘Mine’ so loud it nearly brought me to my knees.”
“But you lied,” she whispered, a tear escaping. “You knew everything, and you said nothing.”
“I wanted to protect you from the past.”
“Is that all of it?” she asked, her gaze searching mine, desperate for the final piece of the puzzle. “Duncan said the whole ugly truth.”
My heart stopped.
The rest of the truth sat on my tongue like poison. Your mother didn’t just save me. She saved me because she was trying to atone. She helped cover up my father’s sins. She wasn’t just a saint, Adella — she was a co-conspirator in a tragedy that would shatter your world. If I told her that, I would destroy the only pure thing she had left — the memory of her perfect mother.
I couldn’t do it. I was a coward.
“That is the truth of us,” I said, the omission tasting like ash. “I watched you to repay a debt. I loved you because it was Fate.”
Adella pulled her hand from my chest. The connection broke, leaving a cold void. She turned her head away, staring at the blank wall. The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful — it was the sound of a bridge burning.
“I need to go home,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “But not to our room. I need space, Dallas.”
I stood there — the King of the largest Pack in the country — powerless against the wall I had built brick by brick. I had given her a truth, but not the truth.
And I had a terrifying feeling that I had just lost her anyway.
The silence in the penthouse was louder than any scream.
We had returned from the hospital in a motorcade of black SUVs, surrounded by guards, yet I had never felt more exposed. The moment the elevator doors slid open to the foyer — his home, not mine, not yet — I stopped. The polished marble floor reflected the distance between us, a chasm that had grown exponentially in the last hour.
“I’m taking the guest room,” I said. My voice was steady, but my hands were trembling at my sides.
Dallas froze. His massive frame, usually radiating dominance and assurance, seemed to shrink slightly. The scent of rain and cedar that had always comforted me now felt suffocating, laced with the bitter tang of his distress. He didn’t argue. He didn’t reach for his Alpha command. He simply nodded — a jerky, mechanical motion.
“I’ll have some things sent up for you,” he murmured.