Chapter 399
“Anya!” I screamed, pounding my fists against the thick wood. “Open this door!”
Silence answered me. Then I heard it — a faint, high-frequency hum vibrating from the corner air vent. I pulled my phone from my pocket.
No service.
The hum was a military-grade signal jammer, cutting me off from the outside world.
I was trapped.
The full weight of it came crashing down all at once. Somewhere in this hospital, Dallas was dying — and he believed I had betrayed him. The image of his face, twisted in agony and heartbreak, burned behind my eyes. The thought of him suffering alone, certain of the worst, was a pain sharper than any physical wound.
“Dallas…” I choked out, tears spilling down my cheeks. I pressed my palm flat against the cold wood door, as if I could reach through the walls and touch him.
I had no idea what was unfolding outside this soundproof box. I couldn’t know what twisted illusion Braydon had orchestrated beyond these walls. But I could imagine it — the manufactured proof, the look on Dallas’s face as his heart shattered, the way Ragnar would rage against a lie he had no reason to question.
And being trapped here, powerless to stop any of it, was the purest form of torture.
Dallas POV
The steady, sterile beep of the heart monitor was the only sound tethering me to reality. My leg was suspended in a traction device, my chest wrapped tightly in thick gauze already blooming with fresh crimson. The air in Room 2201 was thick with hospital bleach, my own blood, and the volatile, stormy scent of Ragnar thrashing against the confines of my broken body.
The heavy door burst open.
Duncan and Vance strode in. The air pressure in the room plummeted. The scents of my Beta and Gamma were completely soured with violent, unstable fury.
Duncan didn’t say a word. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked beneath his skin. He marched straight to my bedside, seized my uninjured arm, and forced a mind-link projection directly into my fractured consciousness.
Look, Alpha. His voice echoed in my head, dripping with venom. Look at what she is doing while you bleed.
The projection flared to life. It was the Moon Goddess Garden, just downstairs. The sunlight was soft, illuminating the familiar, delicate curves of a woman wearing the exact cream cashmere sweater I had bought for Adella. She was standing intimately close to Braydon Hyde.
As I watched, paralyzed by the drugs and the horror, she smiled — a coy, secretive thing — and leaned in to press her lips against Braydon’s cheek.
The world stopped.
It wasn’t just the physical resemblance — it was the flawless continuation of the forged photos I had seen before the crash. The chain of betrayal was complete.
Ragnar tore through my mind, unleashing a guttural, blood-chilling howl of absolute despair. It was the sound of a soul being ripped from its flesh. The agony in my chest eclipsed every broken bone.