Chapter 636
Dallas let out a harsh breath and nodded. Before he could say another word, the timid shuffle of footsteps broke the silence. Mrs. Higgins, our loyal Omega housekeeper, approached the table with her head bowed in submission, her Inner Wolf clearly trembling under the residual, sharp ozone of the Alpha King’s anger.
“Excuse me, Alpha,” she murmured, her hands shaking slightly as she placed a thick parchment envelope on the table. “This arrived by courier.”
The heavy gold wax seal bore the unmistakable crest of the Silver Creek Pack.
Dallas’s storm-gray eyes locked onto the seal. Instantly, the comforting scent of cedar and rain mutated into something dark and suffocating. A low, dangerous growl vibrated in his chest, rattling the fine china.
I didn’t need an Inner Wolf to recognize the invitation. Alpha Lance Sterling was officially announcing his political union with Cynthia Volkov. Sending this to the Blackwood Pack wasn’t just protocol — it was a vulture’s taunt. Lance, the man who had once tried to purchase me with a contract, was flaunting that he was a whole Alpha, one who could complete the sacred Marking ceremony with his mate.
Dallas’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the armrests of his high-tech wheelchair. Watching the rigid set of his jaw and the hollow despair darkening his eyes, I could practically feel the agony radiating from him. The silver poisoning in his veins prevented him from Marking me, and Lance’s wedding was a brutal reminder of everything he believed himself incapable of.
“So, the Sterling boy is finally getting collared,” Azalea drawled from across the table, her tone dripping with forced nonchalance.
Dallas shot her a look so cold it could freeze blood. “Watch your tone, Azalea.”
I couldn’t bear the self-loathing radiating from my mate. Without a word, I picked up the heavy, unopened invitation. Dallas’s eyes tracked my movement, wide with a sudden, raw vulnerability — waiting to see if the ghost of my past still held any weight.
I walked straight to the massive stone hearth. The morning fire was roaring, hungry and bright. Without a second glance, I tossed the gold-sealed parchment directly into the flames.
The paper curled and blackened, the arrogant crest melting into ash.
I turned back to Dallas, holding his storm-gray gaze. “My past, my present, and my future belong to only one Alpha.”
The tension bled from his massive shoulders, and his eyes darkened with a fierce devotion that stole the breath from my lungs.
Suddenly, Dallas’s encrypted phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening. “It’s Gigi,” he muttered, reading the message. “She insists we attend the Founder’s Gala tonight before leaving for Switzerland. She says skipping it will signal weakness to the Council.”
“Then we go,” I said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We show them we aren’t hiding.”
“Miss Azalea,” Mrs. Higgins interrupted softly from the doorway. “Your styling team has arrived for tonight’s gala.”
Azalea stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Right. The birthday spectacle.”
She marched out of the dining room. A heavy sense of foreboding settled in my stomach. I excused myself and followed her toward the grand hallway.