Chapter 438
Dallas
The Elders Council Chamber smelled of stale parchment, burning sage, and the sour reek of greed — a scent that clung to Elder Malcolm like a second skin as he sat across the heavy oak table, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the polished wood.
Augustina stood by the window, her back to us, fulfilling her role as the silent witness required by Pack Law.
“It’s a simple request, Alpha,” Malcolm said, his voice dripping with false deference. “Cassia carries the Marshall bloodline. She is entitled to a seat on the War Council.”
I leaned back in my chair, keeping my face impassive. Inside, Ragnar was pacing — a caged beast waiting to snap its jaws. We didn’t have time for this. The Silver Scythes were already in the city. Every second I spent here was a second Adella remained a target.
“She can have a seat,” I said quietly.
The room fell dead silent. Gigi whipped her head toward me, her jaw dropping. “Dallas, you cannot be serious —”
“An observer’s seat,” I continued, my voice slicing through the tension like a silver blade. I locked eyes with Malcolm. “A purely honorary title. No voting power. And in exchange, Elder Malcolm, you will sign a binding Pack decree today — permanently transferring your voting rights on all matters of Pack security, war mobilization, and external alliances to me, your Alpha King.”
Malcolm stiffened. He glanced at Cassia, who gave him a desperate, pleading nod. She wanted the status, entirely oblivious to the fact that she was merely a pawn. He hesitated, weighing his pride against his grander schemes, before finally reaching for his pen.
“Agreed,” Malcolm muttered, and signed his power away.
Cassia smiled triumphantly, with no idea that I had just stripped her strongest ally of his fangs. The Pack was secure. Now came the part that would destroy me.
The underground garage of Marshall Tower was a cavern of cold concrete and steel. The air smelled of gasoline, cold metal, and dust. Dim fluorescent lights cast long, twisted shadows across the floor, making the space feel like a modern dungeon.
Adella was waiting for me beside the fleet of Pack vehicles. When she saw me limping toward her, a warm, beautiful smile broke across her face. The scent of her — vanilla and rain — hit my senses, and Ragnar purred deep in my chest.
She is so beautiful, he murmured.
My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. I had to make her hate me. I had to make her run far from this fortress before the assassins arrived.
“Dallas,” Adella said softly, stepping toward me. “Duncan told me about the Council meeting. We did it. Malcolm is —”
“It’s over,” I interrupted. My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion.
Adella stopped. Her smile faltered, confusion clouding her bright eyes. “What? What do you mean?”
I gripped the handle of my cane until my knuckles turned white. I looked down at her and buried my love and my soul beneath a glacier of absolute cruelty.
“I am ending our contract, Adella,” I said, the cold, legal words tasting like ash and poison on my tongue. “The lawyers are drafting the annulment papers. This was all a mistake.”