Chapter 585
I swallowed hard, my Inner Wolf whimpering at the sheer predatory calculation in his eyes. “What deal?”
“My family is pressuring me to settle down. You are going to put on a designer dress and play my adoring girlfriend at tonight’s Pack medical charity gala.” He leaned against the desk, his gaze darkening with a voyeuristic hunger that made my skin crawl. “Seraphina is the guest of honor. Dallas and Adella will undoubtedly make an appearance. I want a front-row seat to the slaughter, and I want you on my arm while it happens.”
Trapped beneath the fatal threat of exile, I gave a stiff nod. I was a pawn now — completely cut off from warning Adella about the viper pit she was walking into.
Adella POV
“Burn my world?” Seraphina scoffed in the Four Seasons executive lounge, her voice trembling despite her sneer. She gestured to the greedy RogueNet reporters surrounding her. “You’re a wolfless gold-digger, Adella. Once I hand out these files, your crippled King won’t have a world left to—”
The heavy double doors of the lounge didn’t simply open. They exploded inward, slamming against the walls with a deafening crash.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Dallas Marshall strode in, flanked by four Dire Guards in obsidian-trimmed suits. His storm-gray eyes were bleeding into the molten, predatory gold of his Lycan, Ragnar. He ignored the blinding camera flashes entirely. He crossed the room in three massive strides — his slight limp masked entirely by his lethal intent — and pulled me flush against his side, his large hand wrapping protectively around my waist.
“My Mate,” Dallas snarled, his voice a guttural, earth-shattering rumble that forced several reporters to their knees. “My Luna.”
Seraphina stumbled backward as Dallas turned his glowing eyes on the press.
“If a single photograph from this room is published,” he commanded, the sheer weight of his presence crushing the air from their lungs, “my legal team will not just bankrupt you. I will personally ensure you are permanently exiled from every Pack territory on this continent.”
Absolute terror ripped through the room. Cameras clattered to the floor as reporters frantically deleted their data and scrambled over one another to flee the lounge.
Within seconds, only Seraphina remained — trembling, but still clutching the manila folder to her chest.
“You think you’ve won?” she spat, her face twisted with humiliated rage. “Tonight is the medical charity gala. Every Elder and Alpha will be there. I will expose your shameful secrets under the chandeliers, Dallas!”
She turned and fled, her heels clicking frantically against the marble.
Dallas’s jaw clenched, his chest heaving as he looked down at me. “I told you not to come here alone.”
“And I told you I was handling it,” I replied, smoothing the lapel of his suit.
A slow, ice-cold smile spread across my lips. Seraphina wanted a spectacle under the chandeliers of the Pierre Hotel tonight. I was more than ready to give her one.