Chapter 42
Chapter 42:
Family. The word warmed me. But as we walked toward the building, a prickle of unease crawled up my spine. I felt eyes on me — not the curious stares of students, but something heavier. Malicious.
I glanced toward the parking lot.
Fifty yards away, a black sedan sat idling in the shadow of an oak tree. The windows were tinted, but I knew who was behind them.
Braydon Hyde.
J𝘰іn 𝘁𝘩𝗲 𝗰о𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝗂ty 𝗮𝗍
I couldn’t make out his face clearly, but I could feel his gaze. It wasn’t the hot, impulsive anger I was used to from him. This felt colder, more deliberate. He wasn’t getting out to make a scene. He was sitting there, watching Azalea, watching the Aston Martin, watching the way the Alpha King’s influence shielded me like armor.
The silhouette of a hand rose, pressing a phone to his ear.
He wasn’t retreating. He was recalculating.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the morning breeze ghosted over my skin. I had won the skirmish with Chelsi, and I had survived the battle with Dallas — but as I stared at that dark, idling car, I understood that the war was only just beginning. This time, Braydon wasn’t looking at me as a prize to be won. He was searching for the cracks in the fortress that protected me.
He was looking for Dallas.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but the sound felt like a gavel striking a judge’s block. The relief of escaping the campus — of Azalea’s triumphant defense against Chelsi — evaporated the moment we stepped into the penthouse.
The air inside was frigid. It wasn’t the air conditioning; it was the suffocating, static charge of an enraged Alpha. The scent of ozone, rain, and cedar was so thick it tasted like metal on my tongue.
Dallas stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to us. He was a dark silhouette against the bright city skyline, motionless as a statue yet radiating a violence that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.
“Dad?” Azalea’s voice wavered, her earlier bravado faltering. “We’re back p>
“I see that,” Dallas said. His voice was low, a rumble of thunder that vibrated through the marble floor. He turned slowly. His eyes, usually a stormy grey, were almost black, the pupils blown wide with the instinct of his inner wolf. “And I saw what happened at the university p>
My stomach dropped. Of course he had. He was the Alpha King — his eyes were everywhere.
“She was being attacked,” Azalea argued, stepping forward, though her hands were trembling. “Chelsi was humiliating her. I handled it p>
“You made a spectacle,” Dallas countered, his voice rising just enough to crack like a whip. He stalked toward us, his movements predatory and fluid. “You announced to the entire Northern Alliance, and every spy watching, that Adella is under my protection. You painted a target on her back brighter than a neon sign p>
“She is under your protection!” Azalea shouted back.