Chapter 43
Chapter 43:
“She is my Mate!” Dallas roared, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. The sheer force of his voice made me take a step back, my knees buckling slightly. “My weakness. And you just dangled her in front of the Rogues and the rival Packs like bait. Do you have any idea what you’ve done p>
“I was defending her honor p>
“I don’t need my daughter fighting battles for my Mate,” Dallas snarled, stopping inches from Azalea. He towered over her, his presence consuming the room. “I need you to be safe. I need her to be invisible until I have secured the borders. You have failed at both p>
I opened my mouth to speak — to tell him it was my fault — but his gaze snapped to me. It was heavy, possessive, and terrifyingly intense. It silenced me instantly.
“Go to your room, Azalea,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your cards are frozen. You do not leave this territory for a week p>
“You’re a tyrant!” Azalea screamed, tears welling in her eyes. “You just want to control everything because you’re too scared to live!” She spun around and ran down the hall. The slam of her bedroom door shook the walls.
Silence descended, heavy and uncomfortable. Dallas didn’t look at me again. He turned back to the window, his shoulders rigid, retreating into his fortress of anger.
Twenty minutes later, I stood outside Azalea’s suite, balancing two mugs of hot cocoa. My heart was still racing, but beneath the fear, a new feeling was taking root — confusion. Dallas’s reaction had been extreme, even for him. It wasn’t just anger; it was panic wearing the mask of rage.
𝖱om𝗮𝘯𝖼𝗲 a𝗻𝗱 р𝗮𝘀si𝗼𝗻 o𝘯
I knocked softly and entered.
Azalea’s room was a chaotic explosion of clothes, textbooks, and empty snack bags — a stark contrast to the sterile perfection of the rest of the penthouse. She was curled up on her bed, hugging a pillow.
“I brought a peace offering,” I said softly, setting the mugs on her nightstand.
Azalea sat up, wiping her eyes. “He’s impossible. He treats us like prisoners p>
“He was… intense,” I admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But Azalea, why is he like this? I know Alphas are possessive, but this feels like something else. He looked terrified when he talked about me being a target p>
Azalea sighed, her anger deflating into sadness. She took a sip of the cocoa, staring into the dark liquid. “He wasn’t always like this, Adella. Before the War, he was different. He laughed more p>
“The War?” I asked.
“The Pack War, six years ago,” she whispered, lowering her voice as if speaking a forbidden secret. “My biological father, Zane… he was Dad’s Beta. They were closer than brothers p>
I held my breath, sensing I was about to touch the jagged edge of a deep wound.
“They were ambushed,” Azalea continued, her voice trembling. “Dad was cornered. Zane took a silver bullet meant for him. He died in Dad’s arms, Adella. Dad had to feel his best friend’s bond snap. He had to feel him die p>
My hand flew to my mouth. The horror of it washed over me. To lose a pack member was painful; to lose a Beta, a soul-brother, was agony.