Chapter 319
Chapter 319:
Revulsion rose like bile in my throat. I grabbed my bag. “I’m leaving p>
Charles Hawthorne’s voice boomed from the doorway, his Beta scent thick and oppressive. “Sit, Carmella p>
I froze. He advanced, his eyes cold. “We raised you. We gave you Pack shelter. Walk out that door, and you are no Hawthorne—just a lone, wolfless Rogue. Think carefully about what that fate means p>
Rogue. The word sliced deep: abandonment, vulnerability, endless peril. My nails bit into my palms. Trembling, I sank back into the armchair, trapped once again inside their gilded cage.
Carmella POV
Rogue. The word hung in the air like silver smoke, choking me as I sank back into the armchair. The Persian rug felt like quicksand beneath my heels, the porcelain teacups on the table mocking my trapped state. Eleanor’s cloying rose scent thickened the room, mixing with Charles’s oppressive fog. I was in their gilded cage, and they knew it.
Alistair Finch leaned forward, his rust-and-leather scent turning sharper, like spoiled meat. His eyes raked over me, appraising livestock. “Your little CFO game in the human world is amusing, but irrelevant,” he sneered. “After marriage, you’ll resign. Focus on Luna duties—proper ones p>
A cold, emotionless laugh escaped me. “Proper duties? Like producing pups for your outdated Pack?” I met his gaze, channeling every boardroom battle I had ever won. “Your investments are relics—overleveraged real estate from the last century. Give me a week, and I’d halve your portfolio’s value p>
Alistair’s face flushed crimson, his scent exploding with fury. He slammed his teacup down. “Insolent wolfless bitch. Your scent’s so faint it’s almost human. Your value drops every day—no wolf, no real worth p>
𝗗i𝘴𝗰𝗈𝗏𝗲𝗋 ոе𝘄 𝘴to𝘳𝗶𝖾𝘴 𝗈𝗻 𝗴аlո𝘰v𝘦𝗅ѕ.с𝗼m
Rage boiled over. I snatched my Hermès bag. “We’re done. Never contact me again.” I stood, my heart pounding.
His hand shot across the table, clamping around my wrist like a vise. Pain lanced up my arm. “Sit,” he growled, Alpha command vibrating through his touch and forcing my knees to buckle.
“Let go!” I yanked back, shouting. Charles and Eleanor watched impassively, like spectators at a horse-breaking.
The heavy door creaked open without a sound. Grant Blackwell entered like a storm made flesh. His rosemary and rain scent flooded the room, icy with murder, drowning everything else. Alistair’s Inner Wolf whimpered audibly.
“Release her,” Grant commanded, his voice lethally quiet.
Alistair’s grip slackened instantly, his face draining to ash. Grant shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over my shoulders—a possessive shield. “Alistair Finch, Red Fang Pack Alpha.” His golden eyes pinned the man in place. “I’m the Senate committee chair reviewing your land-use deals with the human government. Touch her again, and your Pack loses half its territory by next full moon p>
Alistair slumped, pale and broken. Grant’s hand settled on my elbow, and he guided me out.
In the foyer, crisp autumn air hit us. I shrugged off the coat and handed it back. “Thank you. I can handle p>