Chapter 334
“You don’t owe me anything for my mother, Dallas,” I whispered into the darkness. “I am not a debt to be settled. I am not a burden you carry because of your father’s sins.” I paused, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing against my ribs. “I am your Mate. Your Luna. And I choose you — not because of the bond, and not because I have nowhere else to go. I choose you because you are the only one who kept my memory safe when the world tried to erase it.”
As the words left my lips, Dallas shifted. His hand, which had been resting limply at his side, moved. His fingers sought mine, wrapping around my hand with a grip that was firm and possessive.
He didn’t wake up. It was a reflex — a primal response from the Lycan within him, acknowledging the vow I had just made.
The broken edges of our bond snapped back together with a silent, resounding hum that vibrated through my very bones. The static was gone. The doubt was gone.
We were whole again.
But as the tower came into view, piercing the night sky, my thoughts drifted back to the photograph in my purse, and to the man waiting on death row. I had my King back. But the war for my past was far from over.
The morning sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse kitchen, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, but it couldn’t touch the cold knot of dread tightening in my stomach. The apartment was quiet. Dallas had left early for the Council, leaving behind a note and the lingering, intoxicating scent of rain and cedar that clung to my skin like a second layer of clothing.
We were whole again. The bond hummed with a steady, comforting rhythm, no longer filled with static. But peace was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not while Rowan was sitting in a cell, waiting to die.
“You’re staring at that coffee like it offended your ancestors, Addie,” Azalea’s voice cut through my thoughts.
She leaned against the marble island, looking effortlessly chic in a silk robe, holding her own steaming mug. Her sharp eyes moved over me, seeing straight through the calm façade I was trying to hold together.
“I can’t just sit here, Az,” I admitted, my voice tight. “Dallas is fighting a war with the Council, and they want blood. Rowan’s blood. If they execute him, it’s like killing the last part of who I was before everything burned.”
“Then don’t sit here,” Azalea said, setting her mug down with a deliberate clink. “Stop acting like the victim, Adella. You’re not some wolfless girl from a dead Pack anymore. You are the Fated Mate of the Alpha King. Your voice carries weight.”
Her words hit me like a physical blow, snapping my head up.
“He’s the King,” I countered weakly. “I’m just—”
“You are his Luna,” she interrupted, her tone fierce. “Whether the Council likes it or not. Stop hiding in this tower waiting for news. Go down there. Make them look you in the eye before they sentence your friend to death.”
A spark ignited in my chest. It wasn’t the roar of a wolf — I didn’t have one — but it was something just as primal. Pride.
“You’re right,” I whispered, pushing the coffee away. I stood up, the chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to the Council.”