Chapter 8 No.8

Dallas POV

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 looking like a chessboard I had already won. But my mind wasn't on the empire I built; it was on the woman sleeping in my penthouse three floors up.

Adella.

Even her name tasted like rain on my tongue.

My solitude was shattered by a mental intrusion so sharp it felt like a physical blow. It was Azalea.

Dad. Her voice in 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, my wolf, Ragnar, rose from his slumber, his hackles raised. Is he threatening you?

He's trying to buy me, Azalea spat. Through our link, I saw what she saw: a velvet box sitting on a white tablecloth next to 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.

The air in my office grew heavy, charged with ozone. I knew that locket. I had seen it in the old dossiers. It belonged to Adella's mother-the Luna of the Moonstone Creek Pack. It wasn't lost. It was stolen off 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 in my chest, deep enough to rattle the crystal decanter on my desk. This wasn't just a rival Alpha making a move. This was sacrilege.

Ruin him, Azalea commanded, her tone icy and final.

With pleasure, I replied.

I severed the link and immediately opened another to my Beta, Duncan Whitaker.

Duncan. Initiate the Hyde Protocol.

There was a pause on the other end, a 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, I ordered, my voice flat. Leak their Q3 earnings deficit to the press. I want their stock trading at pennies before the market closes.

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

He tried to barter with my Mate's soul, I cut him off, projecting a wave of dominance that I knew would force 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 Adella in the study. She was curled into the leather armchair, looking small and fragile, an iPad glowing in her hands. The screen displayed the red, jagged line of the market crash.

She looked up as I entered, her eyes wide and glassy. The scent of her distress-salt and wilted lilies-hit me instantly.

"You did this," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The news... they're saying the Hyde family is ruined. They're saying it's a hostile takeover."

I walked over to the desk, loosening my tie. "It is a correction, Adella. A necessary one."

She stood up, the iPad clattering onto the chair. "You can't do this for me, Dallas. You can't destroy an entire economy just because... because of me." She took a step back, shaking her head. "I'm a wolfless orphan. I'm a charity case. I'm not worth this."

Not worth it?

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

I crossed the room in two strides, closing the distance between us before she could blink. 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.

Adella gasped, her back pressing against the spines of the books. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, calling to the predator in me.

"You have no idea what you are," I murmured, leaning down until my lips were inches from her ear. I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with her scent-moonflower, rain, and the sweet, intoxicating aroma of Mate. "You are worth more than every Pack, every territory, and every crown in this kingdom."

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 permanent claim that would tell the world she belonged to the Lycan King. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the electric pull of the bond arcing between us. She didn't push me away. She was trembling, her breath hitching, her eyes searching mine with a mixture of fear and something else... something like hope.

It would be so easy.

But it was too soon. If I took her now, out of anger and instinct, I would just be another monster controlling her life.

With a monumental effort of will, I forced myself to pull back. I straightened my suit jacket, masking the tremor in my hands.

"Pack a bag, Adella," I said, my voice rough but controlled.

She blinked, dazed, still leaning against the bookshelf for support. "What? Where are we going?"

I turned toward the door, needing to put distance between us before my control shattered completely.

"Moonstone Creek," I said, not looking back. "We're going home."