Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Dallas

The morning sun cut through the glass walls of my office in Marshall Tower, but it did nothing to warm the ice in my veins. I stood overlooking the city, the world below arranged like a chessboard I had already won. Yet my mind wasn’t on the empire I had built—it was on the woman sleeping in my penthouse three floors above.

Adelia.

Even her name tasted like rain on my tongue.

My solitude shattered without warning—a mental intrusion so sharp it felt like a physical blow. Azalea.

Dad. Her voice through the Mind-Link was trembling, not with fear but with a rage that mirrored my own. He’s here. In SoHo. Braydon Hyde just sat at my table.

I didn’t move, but inside me, Ragnar rose from his slumber, hackles raised. Is he threatening you?

He’s trying to buy me, Azalea spat. Through the link, I saw what she saw: a velvet box resting on a white tablecloth beside her mimosa. Inside lay a tarnished silver locket embedded with a clouded moonstone. He says it’s a token of goodwill. He says he found it in the rubble of the Rogue attack years ago.

𝗜𝘯𝗌𝘁𝗮𝘯𝘁 𝘢cc𝘦ss 𝘰ո

The air in my office grew heavy with ozone. I knew that locket. I had seen it in the old dossiers. It had belonged to Adelia’s mother—the Luna of the Moonstone Creek Pack. It wasn’t lost. It had been stolen from a corpse.

He is using a dead Luna’s memory to hunt her daughter. Azalea’s mental voice cracked. He desecrated her grave, Dad.

A low growl vibrated through my chest, deep enough to rattle the crystal decanter on my desk. This wasn’t merely a rival Alpha making a calculated move. This was sacrilege.

Ruin him, Azalea said, her tone dropping to something icy and final.

With pleasure, I replied.

I severed the link and immediately opened another to my Beta. Duncan. Initiate the Hyde Protocol.

A pause—a rare moment of hesitation. Sir? The full protocol? That includes shorting their holdings and freezing the supply chain. It will bankrupt the Hyde Pack by sunset.

Do it. My voice through the link was flat and absolute. Leak their Q3 earnings deficit to the press. I want their stock trading at pennies before the market closes.

Sir. Vance Decker, my Gamma, cut in, his mental tone threaded with caution. This is tantamount to a declaration of war. The Council will view it as unprovoked aggression against a sovereign Pack.

He tried to barter with my Mate’s soul. I projected a wave of dominance that I knew would bring them to their knees wherever they stood. Burn it down.

Ragnar roared in approval, pacing the cage of my mind. Blood. We want blood.

Soon, I promised him. First we take his power. Then we take his head.

By the time I returned to the penthouse that afternoon, the damage was done. Hyde Consolidated was in freefall.

I found Adelia in the study, curled into the leather armchair with an iPad glowing in her hands. The screen displayed the red, jagged collapse of the market crash. She looked small and fragile against the dark leather—and the moment I stepped through the door, the scent of her distress hit me like a wall. Salt and wilted lilies.

She looked up, her eyes wide and glassy. “You did this,” she whispered, her voice barely holding. “The news is saying the Hyde family is ruined. They’re calling it a hostile takeover p>

I walked to the desk and loosened my tie. “It is a correction, Adelia. A necessary one p>

She stood, the iPad clattering into the chair. “You can’t do this for me, Dallas. You can’t destroy an entire economy just because of me.” She stepped back, shaking her head. “I’m a wolfless orphan. I’m a charity case. I’m not worth this p>

Not worth it.

Something inside me snapped. The leash I kept on Ragnar frayed completely.

I crossed the room in two strides, closing the distance between us before she could draw breath. I backed her against the bookshelves, my hands slamming onto the wood on either side of her head, caging her in.

“Don’t you ever say that,” I growled, my voice dropping into that dangerous, inhuman register that made lesser wolves cower.

Adelia gasped, her back pressing against the spines of the books. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird—and that sound called to every predatory instinct I possessed.

“You have no idea what you are,” I murmured, leaning down until my lips were inches from her ear. I inhaled slowly, filling my lungs with her scent—moonflower, rain, and the sweet, intoxicating pull of a Mate. “You are worth more than every Pack, every territory, and every Crown in this kingdom p>

Ragnar was screaming now. Claim her. Mark her. Bite.

My canines elongated, aching to sink into the soft curve of her neck—to leave a mark that would tell the entire world she belonged to the Lycan King. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the electric arc of the bond pulling between us. She didn’t push me away. She was trembling, her breath catching, her eyes searching mine with a look that was equal parts fear and something else—something dangerously close to hope.

It would be so easy.

But it was too soon. If I claimed her now, driven by anger and raw instinct, I would be nothing more than another monster controlling her life. Just like every Alpha who had come before me.

With a monumental effort of will, I pulled back. I straightened my suit jacket, masking the tremor in my hands.

“Pack a bag, Adelia,” I said, my voice rough but controlled.

She blinked, still dazed, still leaning against the bookshelf as if it were the only thing holding her upright. “What? Where are we going p>

I turned toward the door, needing distance before my composure shattered entirely. “Moonstone Creek,” I said, without looking back. “We’re going home p>