Chapter 602
Adella POV
The heavy obsidian doors of the conference room sealed shut behind me, cutting off the tension of the failed negotiation. I walked down the brightly lit, sterile hallway of The Sanctuary, the sharp scent of bleach and ozone doing little to settle my racing heart.
Vance Decker was already waiting in the corridor, his broad shoulders rigid against the wall. His flinty eyes tracked my approach, and he fell into step beside me, his voice low and steady.
“Fowler just mobilized his elite Warriors. They’re moving on the Crimson Paw border to extract the human.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Good. Keep monitoring them, Vance.”
One storm had been temporarily diverted. A far more volatile one was waiting for me in the VVIP recovery wing.
I pushed through the stainless-steel doors of the private kitchen and stood over the stove in my maternity dress and white apron, stirring a large porcelain bowl of rich, golden bone broth.
“It has to be all three pills, Luna.”
Dr. Alistair Vance leaned against the doorframe, holding a small glass vial containing three dark green herbal capsules. His expression was grim. “This specific compound will aggressively accelerate the regeneration of his silver-scorched tissue. But the side effect is severe — it will temporarily suppress his Inner Wolf. Ragnar will be put to sleep.”
I stopped stirring. For an Alpha, losing the connection to their beast was a terrifying vulnerability. But watching Dallas bleed out his pride and his life was worse.
“He would never agree to take it,” I murmured.
“Which is why I need you,” Dr. Vance said, stepping forward and handing me the vial.
We shared a silent, conspiratorial look. I emptied the capsules into a mortar, crushed the dark herbs into a fine, odorless powder, and whisked it seamlessly into the steaming broth.
Ten minutes later, I balanced the tray and pushed open the door to Dallas’s private recovery suite.
The morning light felt muted in the room. Dallas was propped against the raised head of the medical bed, a laptop resting on the swing-arm table positioned over his lap. The moment I stepped inside, the familiar scent of violent storms and cedar reached me — but it was tainted, sharpened with jealousy.
He didn’t even look at me. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked violently in his cheek.
“Azalea told me,” Dallas growled, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that made the tray tremble in my hands. “A Blood-sworn Guardian, Adella? You tethered your future to another Alpha’s bloodline?”
I set the tray on the overbed table. “Dallas, it was a political sacrifice. It was the only way Anson would hand over the Memory Crystal to execute Dosha.”
“It is a territorial claim!” he snarled, finally snapping his storm-gray eyes to mine. His irises flickered with a faint, desperate gold — not Ragnar fully awake, but the beast stirring beneath the sedatives, fighting to protect his mate. “He wants to prove he can protect you better than I can. And you let him put a magical leash on you.”
“I did it to protect our family,” I countered, pushing the bowl of broth toward him. “Now eat. You need your strength.”