Chapter 332
“He’s been watching over your family for years,” Azalea continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Losing them broke him. Losing Rowan — this feels personal. He thinks you hate him, and he thinks he deserves it.”
The ice around my heart cracked.
I had been so consumed by my own sense of betrayal, by the secrets he had kept, that I hadn’t stopped to consider the burden he carried. He wasn’t staying away because he didn’t care. He was staying away because he was ashamed.
He was mourning my past just as deeply as I was.
The anger that had fueled me for days began to drain away, replaced by a profound, aching sadness. We were two broken people standing in the wreckage of a tragedy neither of us could control.
I pushed my drink away.
“Where are you going?” Azalea asked, though a small, knowing smile touched her lips.
I didn’t answer. I smoothed down the front of my dress and stepped away from the bar. My legs felt heavy, but my resolve was iron. I walked through the crowded room, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses fading into the background until all I could see was the man in the corner — the King who would burn the world down for me, but couldn’t save himself.
The distance between the bar and the corner booth felt like a mile, yet every step I took seemed to echo with the heavy thud of my own heart. The jazz music, the laughter of the city’s elite, the clinking of crystal — it all faded into a dull roar, irrelevant and distant. My world had narrowed down to the man slumped in the shadows.
As I approached, the scent hit me. It wasn’t just the sharp, stinging aroma of expensive whiskey — it was the smell of a storm raging out of control. Ozone, rain, and cedar, all soured by a grief so potent it tasted like ash on my tongue.
Dallas didn’t look up until I was standing right in front of him. When he finally lifted his head, the devastation in his eyes nearly brought me to my knees. The Alpha King — the man who made nations tremble — looked shattered.
“Adella?” His voice was a ruin, rough with liquor and unshed tears. He blinked, as if trying to clear a hallucination. “You shouldn’t be here. I reek of failure.”
I didn’t answer immediately. I slid into the booth opposite him, the leather creaking softly. Up close, the lines of exhaustion etched into his face were deeper than I had ever seen.
“Azalea said you were drowning,” I said softly.
“Drowning would be a mercy,” he muttered, reaching for the bottle again, but his hand shook. He pulled it back, clenching his fist on the table. “The Council wants blood, Adella. They want to strip Rowan of his wolf — to leave him hollow before they kill him.”
A fresh wave of pain washed over me at Rowan’s name, but I pushed it down. I needed to be strong for both of us right now.
“I know,” I whispered.