Chapter 452

Ignoring his protests, I ripped the needle from my vein. A bead of dark blood welled up instantly, dripping down my pale skin and staining the pristine white sheets. I didn’t care. I grabbed my cashmere coat from the velvet chair and walked out the door, leaving him standing there. I needed the sky. I needed to stand on the edge of the world and feel something other than this suffocating emptiness.

Dallas POV

The physical fire in my abdomen from the torn silver stitches was nothing compared to the absolute, soul-shredding silence in my chest. Ragnar was a dying beast in my mind, whimpering in the dark for the Mate we had deliberately pushed away.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open to the harsh fluorescent lights of the High-Security Trauma Wing. I couldn’t breathe until I knew she was alive.

“Leo,” I rasped into the comms device on my pillow, my voice trembling. “Hyde Manor. Give me the security feeds. Now.”

Within seconds, the monitor beside my bed flickered to life, displaying grainy, real-time footage of the rooftop terrace at Hyde Manor.

My heart stopped.

Adella was walking onto the gray stone slabs. The biting winter wind whipped her hair across her face as she stepped toward the carved stone parapet. She looked down at the glittering city grid below, leaning dangerously close to the edge.

Pure, paralyzing terror seized my throat. I fumbled for my phone, my trembling fingers punching in her number. The call went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. Again.

“Adella!” I shouted at the screen, as if she could hear me through the pixels. “Don’t do this. Please. Don’t —”

I lunged for the call button to alert my guards — to send someone, anyone — but my trembling, weakened fingers fumbled. The plastic device clattered to the floor and slid out of reach. My heart monitor began to shriek, its frantic, high-pitched alarm echoing my internal panic. I was trapped in this broken body, forced to watch my world step off a ledge.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗀𝖺𝗅𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗌.𝖼𝗈𝗆

On the screen, the glass door to the terrace suddenly burst open.

Braydon Hyde sprinted onto the roof. He grabbed her from behind, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist and pulling her flush against his chest. Even without audio, I could see his mouth moving frantically — playing the desperate savior, begging her not to leave him.

A violent, feral roar ripped from my throat. I thrashed against the bedrails, my arm catching the heavy metal IV pole beside my bed. It crashed to the linoleum floor with a deafening, metallic bang.

On the monitor, Adella paused for a moment, her head tilting as though she heard something. But Braydon tightened his grip, his mouth close to her ear. He turned her away from the ledge and led her back inside, wrapped in his arms.

The heavy terrace door clicked shut on the screen, leaving the roof empty.

I shattered.

A sound that wasn’t human — a raw, guttural sob of absolute defeat — tore from my lungs. I slammed my fists into the metal bedrails. Again and again. The skin on my knuckles split, smearing crimson across the steel, but I couldn’t feel it. The violent convulsions of my grief ripped through my torso. The silver-laced wounds across my abdomen tore completely open. Hot, dark blood flooded my bandages and soaked into the mattress.