Chapter 125
Chapter 125:
I typed a swift reply to Mrs. Tate, inviting her to meet me in the lobby lounge immediately. Then I contacted Harvey.
Have the Warriors on standby in the lobby, I ordered. Do not intervene unless I give the signal.
I stood and crossed to the antique mirror in the corner of the office. My reflection was pale but resolute. I pulled a tube of dark red lipstick from my purse and applied it carefully. It wasn’t makeup — it was war paint.
I grabbed my blazer and walked out of the office, heading straight for the elevator to orchestrate a public execution.
Adelina POV
The elevator doors slid open, depositing me onto the second-floor mezzanine overlooking the grand lobby of The Wolfe Hotel Group headquarters. I adjusted my blazer, the dark red lipstick feeling like a physical shield. Down below, the afternoon rush was in full swing — a sea of wealthy humans and Pack members mingling across the marble floor.
Then the heavy revolving doors lurched to a violent stop.
Mrs. Tate stormed through them like a localized hurricane. The scent of her expensive Chanel perfume was entirely suffocated by the sharp, crackling ozone of a betrayed Luna’s pure fury. She had felt the shift in her mate’s bond — the sickening emotional fluctuation through the mind-link — and her Inner Wolf was roaring for blood.
“You scent-stealing whore!” Mrs. Tate shrieked, her voice echoing off the marble pillars.
She marched straight into the lobby lounge, bypassed her frozen husband entirely, and hurled a thick stack of printed text messages directly into Sloane Prescott’s face. The papers scattered across the floor, exposing the explicit, provocative messages Sloane had sent to Mr. Tate.
“You think you can mark what is MINE?!” Mrs. Tate roared.
𝖢h𝗶n𝘦ѕе ո𝘰𝘷𝗲𝘭𝗌 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝗇𝘀lа𝘵𝘦𝗱 on.соm
The entire lobby went dead silent. The chaotic hum of human chatter vanished, replaced by the heavy, suffocating scent of shock and Sloane’s sudden, sour panic.
Vincent Parrish scurried out of his ground-floor office, reeking of stale cigars and the acidic stench of cowardice. He rushed forward, desperately trying to salvage his crumbling authority. “Mrs. Tate, please — let’s discuss this privately p>
“Control the parasites in your Pack, Parrish!” Mrs. Tate snapped, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at his chest. “Or I will announce to every Alpha Council member that your hotel is nothing but a Rogue nest incapable of protecting a Luna’s sanctuary p>
Vincent’s pathetic Inner Wolf cowered instantly. He shrank back, his face pale and utterly useless in the face of a true Luna’s wrath.
I took my cue.
I descended the grand marble staircase, letting my dormant scent — wild roses and the crisp air of a post-storm forest — bloom outward. It washed over the lobby like an invisible, authoritative blanket that demanded absolute silence. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and met Mrs. Tate’s blazing eyes. I didn’t speak. I simply offered her a slow, respectful nod. Luna to Luna. I see you. I respect your claim.
Mrs. Tate’s chest heaved, but she nodded back, stepping aside to let me handle my Pack’s trash.