Chapter 457
Harrison hesitated. “Moonpetal Lake Manor. The Alpha King decrees that as your bond was first acknowledged on sacred ground, it must be severed there.”
I hung up without another word.
The sanctuary where our mate-bond had first sparked to life. He wanted to bury our love in the exact spot where it was born. The sheer, calculated cruelty of it felt like a silver blade twisting in my chest. My hatred for Dallas suddenly eclipsed my disgust for the serpent standing before me.
I looked at Anson, my jaw set in stone. “I need a ride. No strings attached.”
Anson’s lips curled into a triumphant, wicked smile. “Your chariot awaits.”
Twenty minutes later, Anson’s black sedan pulled up to the rusted iron gates of Moonpetal Lake Manor. As the car wound through the coastal roads, Anson broke the silence.
“You’re wondering why I’m helping you.”
I didn’t answer.
“Fifteen years ago, my mother begged the Marshall Pack for aid when Rogues overran our border.” His voice was calm, but something dark flickered behind his eyes. “Kaelen Marshall refused. He said our territory wasn’t worth the cost of deploying his Warriors. My mother died three weeks later.”
He leaned back, the mask of the charming Alpha sliding back into place. “I’ve been waiting a long time to watch a Marshall lose something they can’t buy back.”
I stepped out into a graveyard. The once-vibrant Moonpetals that used to glow beneath the moonlight were entirely dead, reduced to brown, thorny skeletons. The overgrown grass crunched under my boots like shattered glass.
In the center of the ruined garden, beside a white wrought-iron table, sat Dallas.
He faced away from us, confined to a wheelchair with a thick cashmere blanket draped heavily over his legs. The overwhelming Lycan scent of storm and cedar that used to command entire rooms was terrifyingly faint. Beneath it, I caught a sickening, metallic tang — the distinct, rotting scent of silver poison. In my blinding grief, I mistook it for the stench of his corrupted soul.
I marched up to the table, Anson and Azalea trailing closely behind.
“Did Yara pick out the venue for this execution?” I spat, my voice dripping with venom.
Dallas slowly turned his head. His face was a pale, emotionless mask. “She prefers efficiency,” he replied, his voice a hollow rasp that sent a shiver down my spine.
Anson stepped forward, deliberately placing a possessive hand on the back of my chair. He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with malicious joy. “Look at you, Marshall. Confined to a chair, losing your prized possession. How pathetic.”
Dallas didn’t acknowledge Anson’s existence. His storm-gray eyes bypassed the rival Alpha entirely and dropped straight to my left hand. He stared at my bare ring finger, a muscle feathering in his tight jaw.
Duncan Whitaker stepped out from the shadows, refusing to meet my eyes, his face drawn with an unspoken agony as he placed the thick Rejection Agreement on the table.
“There is one final condition before you sign,” Dallas said, his voice devoid of any warmth.