Chapter 389
Ragnar snarled — a vicious, bloodthirsty sound that vibrated through my chest. I waited for her to flinch, to pull away, to fight. Instead, as Braydon stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, she leaned back into his chest. Willingly.
It was a masterclass in torture. She turned her head, laughing at something he said. She reached toward the kitchen island, dragging a slender finger through the thick frosting of a cake on the counter, and playfully brought it to Braydon’s lips. He sucked the sugar from her finger, his eyes dark with possession. Then he gripped her hips and lifted her effortlessly onto the marble counter.
She didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him flush against her.
A silver blade through the heart would have been a mercy by comparison. The belief I had placed in her, the future I had built in my mind, shattered into a thousand pieces. Because of the storm, the distance, and the toxic cocktail of whiskey and fever coursing through my veins, my Lycan senses were completely muted. I couldn’t smell the truth. I couldn’t detect the subtle, microscopic differences in the woman’s profile.
All I saw was the woman I had chosen — my beautiful, perfect liar — giving herself to my greatest enemy.
Ragnar didn’t roar for blood anymore. He let out a devastating, soul-crushing howl of pure grief that rang through the cavernous emptiness of my mind. The man who had clung to the hope of her innocence died right there in the mud.
I took a step back. The freezing rain washed over my numb face. I turned my back on the glowing window and stumbled blindly through the storm toward my car, the word liar carving itself deeper into my bones with every step.
Dallas
The word liar carved itself into my bones as I threw myself into the driver’s seat of my armored SUV. I slammed my foot on the gas, the engine roaring to life, tearing away from the Hyde Estate. The winding coastal road on the edge of Blackwood Pack territory was a treacherous ribbon of slick asphalt, but I didn’t care. I pushed the speedometer past a hundred, the torrential rain whipping against the windshield like a barrage of bullets.
Duncan was frantically pushing against my mental barriers. “Alpha, where are you?” His voice echoed through the mind-link.
I shoved him out with a brutal pulse of Alpha command. I didn’t want his concern. I didn’t want anything but the numbing burn of the whiskey and the lethal speed of the car. Inside my head, Ragnar was tearing himself apart, his agonizing roars reduced to a single, repetitive chant. Liar. Liar. Liar.
I took a sharp turn too fast.
The darkness ahead was suddenly obliterated by a blinding wall of light. A massive, unmarked black semi-truck surged from the opposite lane, its high beams flicking on at the very last second. It wasn’t drifting. It was aiming directly for me.
Instinct took over. I yanked the steering wheel — and it wouldn’t budge. The steering column was completely locked.
Sabotage.