Chapter 344
“She’ll hate you no matter what you wear, Adella,” Azalea continued, her eyes fixed on the floor. “To her, I am a charity case — the daughter of a Beta who died too easily. A reminder of thin blood. But you…” She looked up, her expression stark. “You are wolfless. In her eyes, you aren’t just weak. You are a genetic dead end. A stain on the Marshall tapestry.”
I stepped into the dress, the zipper hissing as I pulled it up. The fabric hugged my curves and made me stand taller. I turned to face her.
“Then we are in good company, Azalea,” I said, extending a hand toward her. “A charity case and a stain. The perfect Outcast Alliance.”
Azalea stared at my hand for a long moment before taking it. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “We’re just two stray pups walking into a lion’s den.”
“No.”
A deep voice rumbled from the doorway.
We both turned. Dallas stood there, leaning against the doorframe. He had changed into a charcoal suit that cost more than the house I grew up in, the fabric straining slightly across his shoulders and hinting at the lethal power coiled beneath. The scent of storm clouds and cedar filled the closet, instantly calming the spike of adrenaline in my veins.
“You aren’t strays,” Dallas said, his grey eyes locking onto mine and burning with possessive heat. “And you aren’t walking into a lion’s den. You’re walking with the King.”
The drive to the Marshall Estate was a descent into history — the dark, bloody kind.
The black armored SUV crunched over the gravel driveway, the sound echoing like grinding bones. Ancient oak trees lined the path, their gnarled branches interlocking overhead to blot out the sun, creating a tunnel of perpetual twilight.
As the estate came into view, my breath hitched. It wasn’t a home — it was a fortress. Grey stone rose out of the dark earth, gargoyles perched on the eaves with their stone eyes seemingly tracking our approach. The place radiated an aura of old power, heavy and suffocating.
The car stopped. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of bone. I didn’t have a wolf to growl back at the oppression radiating from this place. I only had myself.
Dallas’s hand covered mine, his warmth seeping into my cold skin. He didn’t look at the house — he looked at me.
“Breathe, Adella,” he commanded softly. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear and sending a jolt of electricity down my spine that grounded me. “This is my territory. My den. You are its future Luna. She is a guest here, nothing more.”
His words were a shield. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.
We stepped out of the car. The air was colder here, smelling of damp earth and pine needles. Dallas offered me his arm and I took it, anchoring myself to his strength. The massive double doors swung open before we even reached the top step. An elderly butler in a pristine uniform bowed low, his face a mask of barely concealed anxiety.
“Master Dallas,” he murmured, stepping aside.