Chapter 371
“I don’t want it, Marcus,” I said, my voice steady. “I didn’t come here for land. I came because a dying woman asked for peace.”
“Just take it!” Braydon snapped, stepping forward, his hands balled into fists. “It’s an inheritance, Adella! If you take it, it means we’re square. It means you acknowledge the bond between our families!”
Dallas didn’t shift in his seat, but the air in the room grew suddenly heavy, charged with the static of a storm about to break. He let out a short, humorless laugh that sounded more like a growl.
“My Mate is a Marshall,” he said, his voice low and slicing through Braydon’s hysteria like a blade. “She has no need for your dying land. What is this worth — five million? That’s a rounding error in my quarterly reports.”
Braydon flinched as if struck. Marcus lowered his head, shame rolling off him in waves.
“Keep your paper,” Dallas continued, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto Marcus. “Let’s talk about what is actually going to happen. I know about the silver trade, Marcus. I know you’ve been dealing with Rogues to keep this estate afloat.”
Marcus paled, his breath catching. “Alpha King, I—”
“The Council would strip you of your rank and dissolve your pack by sunset if I made one phone call,” Dallas said, his tone merciless. “But I am feeling generous. Blackwood Pack will absorb your assets and take on your debts. You will keep your title — purely ceremonial, of course. But in exchange, I have one condition.”
He pointed a finger at Braydon without looking at him. “He is exiled from Adella’s presence. Permanently. If he comes within ten miles of her, the deal is void, and I let the Council tear you apart.”
Silence crashed into the room.
“You…” Braydon stared at his father, his face twisting in disbelief. “You’re going to agree to this? You’re going to let him buy us? Own us?”
Marcus closed his eyes, a single tear leaking down his ashen cheek. “We have no choice, son. We are ruined.”
“You coward!” Braydon screamed, the sound raw and jagged. “You’re selling her again? Just like you sold her silence to the Parrishes to cover your debts from the silver trade all those years ago?”
My heart skipped a beat. Sold my silence? To the Parrishes?
“Enough!” Marcus roared, slamming his hand on the table. “She has a Mate now! It is over!”
“It’s never over!” Braydon shrieked. He seized a blue-and-white porcelain vase from the mantle — an antique Victoria had treasured — and hurled it against the wall.
Crash.
Shards of pottery exploded across the floor. “You are all cowards! Bound by your pathetic mate-bonds!”
Braydon spun and sprinted toward the French doors, tearing them open and vanishing into the gloom of the withered garden.
The room fell into a stunned silence, broken only by Marcus’s ragged breathing.
I stood up. My legs felt steady, grounded by a resolve I hadn’t known I possessed. “I need to go to him.”