Chapter 59
Chapter 59:
I turned to find Braydon Hyde looming over me. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot and darting nervously around the room. He leaned in, inhaled sharply, and flinched as if burned.
“You smell like him,” he hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and jealousy. “Tell me it’s just a contract. Tell me you didn’t let that… thing touch you p>
I yanked my arm back and stepped into the shadow of the pillar. “Don’t touch me, Braydon p>
“He’s a Lycan, Adella! A monster without a soul!” He reached for me again, desperation clawing at his features. “He will destroy you p>
“You already destroyed me, Braydon,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “He is putting me back together p>
“I had to reject you!” he pleaded, the cowardice in his eyes making my stomach turn. “I did it for the Pack’s bloodline! For our future! You have no wolf, Adella. You were a dead end p>
The words struck the old wound — the deep-seated insecurity of being wolfless — but tonight, the pain was dull, overshadowed by disgust.
𝖠𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘃e 𝗰о𝗺𝗆𝘂𝗇𝘪𝘁𝘺 𝗼ո
“And now I’m a dead end that belongs to a King,” I replied. “Go back to your fiancée p>
“There you are, darling p>
A sharp, saccharine voice sliced through the tension. Katherine Parrish materialized beside Braydon, slipping her arm through his and staking her claim with a possessive squeeze. She beamed at me, a predator baring its teeth.
“Adella, sweetie, it’s almost time to cut the cake,” she chirped, her grip shifting from Braydon to me. Her fingers dug into my bicep with bruising force. “You simply must come to the front. You’re practically family, after all p>
“I’d rather stay here,” I said, trying to pull away, but her grip was iron. For a delicate-looking woman, she had the strength of a warrior.
“Nonsense,” she hissed, her smile never faltering for the onlookers. “Don’t make a scene p>
She dragged me forward. I stumbled, forced to match her pace as she hauled me toward the brightly lit stage. The crowd parted again, their whispers rising like a tide. I looked around for Azalea, for Dallas, for anyone — but the lights were blinding.
We stopped at the foot of the stage.
“Look,” Katherine cooed, gesturing grandly.
The cake was a monstrosity of five tiers, towering above us. But it wasn’t the size that made my blood freeze. It was the smell.
Beneath the vanilla and fondant, a pungent, tropical scent assaulted my nose. Sweet. Heavy. Deadly.
The frosting was a vibrant, artificial yellow-orange.
Mango.
My throat constricted from proximity alone. It was a severe anaphylactic trigger — something only a handful of people knew. Something that could close my airway within minutes.
I tried to step back, panic flaring in my chest, but Katherine’s hand was a vice on my arm, anchoring me in place. She turned to me, her eyes gleaming with a malice that promised pain.
“It’s to die for,” she whispered. “Eat a bite, Adella. Smile and eat it — or I will have my father’s contacts publish those fabricated photos of your mother begging the Rogues for mercy. I will ruin your parents’ legacy tonight p>