Chapter 478

I wiped the tears from my face, my sorrow hardening into a fierce, unbreakable resolve. I wasn’t just a discarded wolfless girl anymore. I was his Luna. And I was going to drag my King back from the edge of hell, whether he wanted me to or not.

I stepped out of the alcove, leaving Vance in the shadows, and marched down the dim corridor. I stopped in front of Suite 1. The cold metal handle bit into my palm as I pushed the side door open and stepped into the dark.

Dallas

The heavy steel door of Suite 1 clicked open.

Through the suffocating haze of heavy sedatives and the agonizing, fiery burn of silver rot, her scent hit me — sweet Moonflower and rain, slicing straight through the sterile stench of bleach and my own decaying blood.

Adella.

Mate! Ragnar, my dying Lycan, thrashed against my shattered ribs and let out a desperate, blood-curdling howl in the dark confines of my mind.

I tried to turn my head, to command her to leave, but I was paralyzed by the sheer sight of her. She stood in the doorway, her beautiful face pale and streaked with tears. She didn’t look at the IV lines taped to my arms or the harsh fluorescent monitors tracking my failing organs. She only looked at me.

Before I could force a single cruel word past my dry lips, she crossed the room. She didn’t hesitate. She leaned over the metal bedrails, her hands gripping my shoulders, and crashed her lips against mine.

I should have pushed her away. I should have been the monster I needed to be to keep her alive. But I was a starving, dying beast. For one agonizing, perfect second, I surrendered. I kissed her back. The frayed edges of our severed mate-bond ignited, sending a violent rush through my freezing veins. It was heaven. It was salvation.

Then the heart monitor beside my bed began to shriek.

The frantic, high-pitched alarm shattered the illusion. Adella pulled back slightly, her breath hitching in panic. Out of pure instinct, her hands moved down and pressed flat against my bare chest to steady me.

She froze.

Beneath her soft, warm palm, there was no strong, rhythmic beating of a Lycan heart. There was only the cold, unnatural, mechanical vibration of the LVAD — the human machine keeping my rotting blood pumping.

I watched her eyes widen. I saw the shock, the devastating heartbreak, and then the one thing I feared more than death itself: pity.

I was the Alpha King. I was the Ghost. I would rather be hated for eternity than pitied by the woman I loved. A suffocating wave of shame and panic seized my throat, choking the life out of me.

“Don’t touch me!” I roared.

I shoved her. I didn’t use my full Lycan strength, but it was enough. Adella stumbled backward, her heels catching on the linoleum, and she crashed hard onto the cold floor.

“Get out!” I snarled, my voice a gravelly, demonic rasp that didn’t sound like my own.