Chapter 550
I unleashed my Alpha’s Command. The sheer, suffocating weight of my presence slammed into the room. Dr. Vance choked and dropped to his knees as the undeniable order forced his submission.
Minutes later, my Beta, Duncan Whitaker, rushed in. He took one look at the monitors and opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off.
“Get the legal and financial teams on the line,” I ordered, my voice leaving no room for debate. “Liquidate the Hyde assets. I want an impenetrable trust fund established for Adella Everett. I want walls of money and power built around her so high that nothing in this world can ever touch her again.”
Duncan stared at me, horrified by the manic edge in my eyes. “Dallas, you are in no condition to—”
“Before I go,” I interrupted, my voice dropping to a deadly, hollow whisper, “I need to fortify my kingdom for its future Queen—even if she doesn’t want the crown.”
I leaned back against the pillows, the crumpled Decree still burning in my palm. I would become the ghost in the machine. I would protect her from the shadows, even if it killed me.
Adella
The Marshall Industries private jet soared high above the clouds, bathed in blinding golden sunlight that felt entirely wrong. It was too bright for a day that felt like a funeral.
I sat alone in the luxurious cabin, staring out the window at the endless expanse of blue. My hand drifted down instinctively, resting gently over my flat stomach. The faint, fluttering warmth of the life growing inside me was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.
“Your father is fighting monsters, little one,” I whispered to the empty cabin, my voice trembling but resolute. “The ones outside, and the one within himself.”
A tear slipped down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. I couldn’t afford to be weak—not when Dosha was hunting us, not when Dallas was tearing himself apart to keep us safe.
“We’re letting him win for now,” I murmured, pressing my palm more firmly against my womb. “And one day—we’re going back to save him from himself.”
I picked up the charcoal pencil resting on my tray table and opened my sketchbook. With slow, deliberate strokes, I drew a single, blooming Moonpetal—beautiful and delicate. Then, as my pencil moved down the page, I wrapped the stem in thick, jagged silver thorns.