Chapter 497
Anson didn’t even look at her. He casually bent down and picked up my ruined phone, inspecting the shattered screen with mild amusement.
“Attacked? I only saw a clumsy drunk trip into my landscaping,” he said smoothly, dropping the phone back at my feet. At last he turned his gaze to the mud-soaked she-wolf. “Get out of my planter, Chelsi. Before I have security drag you away for property damage.”
Chelsi’s jaw dropped. The Alpha command laced in his tone left her scrambling. Humiliated and outmatched, she clawed her way out of the dirt, her ruined suit dripping mud onto the pavement.
She glared at me, her eyes burning with a hatred that bordered on madness. “You think you’ve won, Adella?” she hissed, her voice trembling. “My sister couldn’t take you down. But I’m not her. I will find a way back. And when I do, I will take everything from you.”
She turned and limped away toward her car, leaving a trail of wet earth behind her.
I let out a shaky breath, my hands curling into fists at my sides. Then I turned my attention back to Anson Fowler. He was watching me intently, his dark eyes gleaming with a calculating, dangerous interest that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“I didn’t expect a wolfless stray to have so much fire,” he murmured, taking a slow, deliberate step into my personal space.
“I didn’t expect a wolfless stray to have so much fire,” Anson murmured, taking a slow, deliberate step into my personal space.
I stiffened, my instincts screaming at me to retreat. The air around him was heavy, oppressive—the kind of presence that demanded submission without asking for it. There was no warmth in it, only the cold weight of a predator sizing up its prey.
“What do you want, Alpha Fowler?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.
A dark, calculating smile played on his lips. “I want to offer you clarity, Adella. You’re still pining for a ghost. The whole upper echelon of the Packs is whispering about it. The blast in Beirut didn’t just leave Dallas with a limp. The silver shattered his Lycan. Ragnar is dormant, permanently broken. Dallas is an empty shell who can’t even complete a Marking ceremony.”
My breath hitched. For a split second, the world stopped spinning.
Broken? Unable to Mark?
Then the memory hit me with the force of a physical blow. The clinic. The way Dallas had pinned me against the door. The undeniable, electric sparks that had ignited across my skin the moment his lips crashed onto mine. I had felt the terrifying, possessive surge of his presence beneath his skin. He wasn’t broken. He had been roaring for me.
He’s lying.