Chapter 445
Braydon let out a dark, amused chuckle. “Or what? You’re trapped, Adella.”
I gripped the edge of the desk, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Or I send the Alpha Council the complete, encrypted files Dallas left me. The blood witch’s testimony. The financial trails. Every single piece of evidence proving the Hyde Pack murdered my parents.”
The silence on the line was deafening. The smug Alpha was suddenly choking on his own terror. The leverage was absolute.
“One hour, Braydon,” I commanded. “Or I burn your entire Pack to the ground.”
I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the desk. I was going to Beirut.
Adella POV
The bruised, purple sky over Blackstone Private Airfield threatened a violent storm. The biting wind whipped my hair across my face as I stepped out of the cab onto the cold tarmac.
Braydon Hyde was already waiting by the unmarked Learjet, leaning heavily on his crutches. His Alpha scent, usually a suffocating pine, had soured with humiliated rage. The evidence of his family’s murderous past hung over his head like a silver blade, forcing him to obey my commands.
“Are you insane?” Braydon hissed as I approached, his voice vibrating with dark, resentful fury. “You blackmailed me to fund a one-way trip into a warzone for a dead Alpha King who threw you away?”
I didn’t even slow my pace. I looked at him with eyes made of pure ice. “I am fighting for my Mate, Braydon. Something you will never understand.”
I pushed past him, my eyes locked on the boarding stairs of the jet. After seventy-two hours of agonizing hell, I was finally going to Beirut.
“Adella, wait!”
I turned to see Elara Vance sprinting out from the hangar, her face pale and streaked with tears. She grabbed my arm, her grip trembling with desperation.
“Beirut is a Rogue state, Adella! You’re wolfless — you can’t even shift to defend yourself!” Elara pleaded, her voice cracking. “It’s suicide!”
I gently but firmly pulled my arm from her grasp. “Dallas and Azalea are there. I have to go.”
“They could already be dead!” she cried.
I stared at the dark, waiting cabin of the jet, my heart hardening into an unbreakable stone. “If he is dead, then I will be the one to bring my King home.”
I turned back toward the stairs — but the sudden, violent screech of tires shattered the morning air.
Three black armored SUVs swarmed the tarmac, boxing the Learjet in completely. My breath caught in my throat as Duncan Whitaker stepped out of the lead vehicle. His tailored suit was immaculate, but his face was etched with profound agony and absolute resolve.
“Move the cars, Duncan,” I ordered, panic rising in my chest.
“I cannot do that, Luna,” Duncan said, his voice tight. “By direct order of the Alpha King, citing your mental instability following the Rejection, you are placed on the Pack’s no-fly list. Effective immediately.”