Chapter 627
“Alpha,” Gamma Vance Decker’s voice called out, tight and professional. “Elder Malcolm has arrived. He is waiting in the living room.”
The lover holding me vanished in a heartbeat. Dallas’s body went completely rigid. He slowly pulled away, removed the glasses, and tossed them onto the nightstand. His storm-gray eyes bled into the molten, predatory gold of a ruthless King.
“I can go down and tell him to wait,” I offered, standing up.
“No,” Dallas commanded, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument. He shifted his weight, effortlessly transferring his massive frame into the high-tech wheelchair beside the bed. “You come with me. You are the Luna of this house. He needs to understand that disrespecting you is a declaration of war against me.”
I nodded, my heart pounding with a mixture of awe and anticipation. I stepped behind his wheelchair and gripped the handles.
We moved silently down the hallway, the tension thickening with every inch we descended toward the ground floor.
I pushed the heavy double doors of the grand living room open. The air inside was suffocating — thick with old leather, fireplace embers, and the sharp, sour stench of absolute terror.
Standing stiffly in the center of the room was Elder Malcolm. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, but the arrogant pride that usually defined him had been entirely stripped away. His face was ashen, his eyes sunken with exhaustion, and his Inner Wolf was practically whimpering as he stared at the crippled King rolling toward him.
Adella POV
The heavy double doors of the grand living room clicked shut behind us, sealing us inside. The air was suffocating — thick with dying fireplace embers, old leather, and the sharp, sour stench of absolute terror radiating from Elder Malcolm.
I pushed Dallas’s wheelchair forward. Malcolm didn’t wait for us to speak. Completely abandoning the proud, equal-footing protocol demanded between Council members and the King, the older man dropped heavily onto one knee.
“Alpha King. Luna,” Malcolm rasped, his voice trembling as he bowed his head. His Inner Wolf was practically whimpering in submission.
I gripped the handles of Dallas’s wheelchair, my heart pounding. This was the man who had plotted against Dallas in the Council for years, seeking to undermine his throne at every turn. Now he was kneeling on my floor, broken by the sheer, terrifying weight of the man sitting before me.
“I come to beg for your mercy,” Malcolm choked out, not daring to look up. “For the unforgivable disrespect my pup showed the Luna. I offer you his head — figuratively speaking. I have officially stripped Julian of his heir status. He is being exiled to the northern silver mines to labor alongside the Rogues. He will not return for three years.”
A chill ran down my spine. The cold, ruthless nature of Pack politics was staggering. Malcolm was throwing his own grandson into a frozen hell simply to appease the monster he believed Dallas to be.
“My faction pledges absolute, unquestioning loyalty to the Blackwood Pack,” Malcolm continued desperately. “We will offer any financial tribute you demand.”