Chapter 622
Adella POV
The confrontation with Julian Malcolm earlier that day had left my blood running cold, but I refused to let his pathetic shadow ruin our final day in New York. We were leaving for the clinic in Switzerland tomorrow, and I wanted to buy Dallas something soft for the trip — something that didn’t carry the heavy, defensive weight he always wore.
That afternoon, I stood inside Celestia’s Finery, an exclusive boutique catering to the Pack elite. My fingers moved slowly over a charcoal cashmere sweater, my iced coffee resting on the polished marble display table beside me.
Then a sickeningly familiar scent invaded the pristine air. It wasn’t the arrogant pine I remembered from my childhood — it was the sour, rotting stench of pure, entitled desperation.
“Shopping with the King’s credit card, Adella? Or did you steal it on your way out the door?”
I stiffened. Julian Malcolm strolled down the aisle, his eyes raking over my maternity dress with a mixture of revulsion and twisted, snobbish amusement. He was dressed in an ostentatious European cut, reeking of overseas airports and misplaced arrogance.
“Leave me alone, Julian,” I said, keeping my voice dead calm as I turned to walk away.
He sidestepped, blocking my path. “News travels slow across the Atlantic, but not that slow,” he sneered, leaning in close. “I just flew in from Paris this morning. Imagine my surprise finding the King’s discarded pet still parading around the city. We all heard the rumors, Adella. The public Rejection. The new Warrior mistress. You’re nothing but a charity case holding onto scraps.”
I stared at him, a cold, sharp realization dawning over me. He didn’t know. He had been out of the country during the High Council purge. He was completely blind to the fact that his grandfather’s power had been gutted, and his information was months out of date.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Julian,” I said, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Step aside.”
My defiance only fueled his sick entitlement. His Inner Wolf flared with malicious intent.
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about,” he mocked. “You’re a broken toy for a crippled wolf who can’t even complete the Marking. He’s an empty shell hiding in his estate. My grandfather, Elder Malcolm, practically runs the Council now. And once he formally removes that rotting King from the throne, strays like you will be swept into the gutter where you belong.”
A cold, lethal fury ignited in my chest. I didn’t shrink back. I lifted my chin and met his manic gaze with absolute, unwavering resolve.
“I am Luna Marshall,” I stated clearly. “And your grandfather is a coward who kneels at my husband’s feet.”
The insult to his family’s pride snapped his arrogant facade. He raised his hand toward my cheek — a blatant, unforgivable disrespect to an Alpha’s claimed Mate.
I didn’t hesitate for a fraction of a second.