Chapter 624
With agonizing, deliberate slowness, he rolled forward over the shattered glass, stopping inches from Julian. Julian was frozen, his face pale, his Inner Wolf completely paralyzed by the terrifying reality of the monster he had just mocked.
Dallas slowly raised his cane. He pressed the cold steel tip directly against the center of Julian’s throat, forcing the younger man’s chin up.
“Now,” Dallas whispered, his voice dripping with lethal, icy calm. “Who’s the useless one?”
Dallas POV
The cold steel tip of my cane pressed deep into the hollow of Julian’s throat. The arrogant smirk that usually plastered his face had completely dissolved, replaced by the pale, suffocating realization that he was entirely at my mercy.
Yet, like a cornered rat, he clung to the only pathetic shield he had left.
“Do you know who my grandfather is?” Julian hissed, his voice trembling as he strained against the tip of my cane. “Elder Malcolm! He runs your Council! He’ll have you stripped of your crown for this!”
I let out a low, dismissive laugh that vibrated with Ragnar’s dark amusement. “News clearly hasn’t reached whatever overseas rock you’ve been hiding under, boy. I know Malcolm. He is a cunning viper, but at least he isn’t a fool. Unlike his pup.”
The ultimate insult shattered the last fragile remnants of his pride. Driven by sheer humiliation, Julian’s suppressed Inner Wolf snapped. With a feral, desperate snarl, he ignored the cane and threw a wild punch aimed directly at my face.
Before I even had to blink, Vance Decker moved.
A brutal, perfectly executed side kick connected with Julian’s torso. The sickening crack of fracturing ribs echoed through the ruined boutique. Julian gasped, the air violently expelled from his lungs as he collapsed onto the marble floor, writhing among the shattered glass.
Ragnar roared in my mind — a tidal wave of pure, icy bloodlust. This pathetic whelp had dared to lay his hands on my pregnant Fated Mate. A simple broken rib was an insult to my Luna’s honor.
I slowly rolled my wheelchair forward. Reaching out, my hand closed around the thick base of a solid brass display stand that had fallen from a broken counter. It was heavy, cold, and unforgiving.
Julian looked up, his eyes widening in absolute terror as he registered my intent.
With cold, merciless precision, I swung the brass stand down, smashing the blunt edge directly into the side of his left knee.
A horrific crunch of shattering bone filled the room. Julian unleashed a soul-tearing scream — a sound caught halfway between a human wail and a wolf’s agonizing howl. He curled into a fetal position, but the angle forced him into a humiliating, broken kneel directly before my wheelchair.
A few feet away, one of the Malcolm Warriors tried to scramble up to help his young master. Vance simply planted his steel-toed boot onto the back of the Warrior’s neck, pinning him to the floor with lethal ease.
“You’re dead,” Julian sobbed, clutching his ruined knee. “My grandfather will kill you…”