Chapter 425
“I’ve driven those switchbacks a hundred times, Azalea,” I said, taking the helmet. I didn’t add that I had driven them while terrified, sitting next to a manic Braydon who liked to test my limits. Today, I was testing his.
I walked out into the living room. Dallas was waiting in his wheelchair, his injured leg extended. The moment he saw me, the air pressure in the room seemed to plummet. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened to a terrifying, bottomless black.
“Take it off,” Dallas commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the floorboards. “It’s too tight. You are not parading yourself in front of that filth wearing that.”
“It’s safety gear, Dallas,” I replied, walking toward him, refusing to bow to his possessive instincts. “Loose fabric is a fire hazard.”
He grabbed my wrist as I got close, pulling me down until my face was inches from his. I could smell the ozone and cedar rolling off him in waves.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he rasped, his gaze tracing the neckline of the suit. “It’s my fight.”
“It’s our fight,” I corrected softly, placing my free hand over his heart. “Let me win this for us.”
He stared at me, the beast inside him warring with the man who respected me. Finally, he let out a harsh breath and pressed a bruising kiss to my knuckles. “If he touches you, I will burn the track to ash.”
An hour later, the VIP lounge at The Midnight Run smelled of high-octane fuel, sweat, and the dangerous musk of adrenaline-hungry Rogues.
Dallas and I sat in a cordoned-off section, Azalea standing fiercely at my side. Dallas’s mere presence — even from a wheelchair — forced the surrounding crowd to keep a wide, respectful berth.
“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” a slick voice sneered.
Braydon Hyde strutted into our section, wearing a leather racing jacket. Katherine Parrish clung to his arm in a tight red dress, a smirk on her face that made my stomach turn.
“I see the Alpha King prefers to sit while his little pet does the running,” Braydon mocked, eyeing Dallas’s leg.
Katherine laughed — a sharp, brittle sound. “Don’t worry, Braydon. When she loses, she can always come back to the Manor to clean the floors.”
“You’re the one wearing the clearance rack dress, Katherine,” Azalea shot back, stepping forward. “Looks like Braydon’s budget got a little tight after we seized his assets. Enjoy your hand-me-downs, you rejected second choice.”
Katherine’s face flushed a mottled purple, her mouth falling open in outrage, but Braydon cut her off. He ignored Azalea entirely and pulled a small, silk-wrapped package from his jacket.
“The diary,” Braydon announced, waving it in my direction. “The truth about the White Wolf. If you win, it’s yours.”
I stared at the silk, my heart pounding. “And when I win, you never speak my name again.”
Dallas, silent until now, spoke without raising his voice. “Vance.”
Gamma Vance Decker stepped forward from the shadows.
“Check the Ferrari,” Dallas ordered, his golden eyes fixed dead on Braydon. “Every inch. Now.”