Chapter 162
Chapter 162:
I severed the link, the victory hollow compared to the sight before me. Adelina had finished wrapping my knuckles in white gauze. The faint purple shadow blooming on her cheek was a brand of my failure to reach her sooner.
I knelt before the sofa and brought her bandaged hands to my lips. I pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles. I didn’t speak the words aloud, but my Inner Wolf made a silent, unbreakable vow: I will handle everything that comes next.
Her wild rose scent flared — a beautiful, chaotic mix of confusion and warmth. She was finally beginning to see me.
Then the mind-link crackled with urgent static.
Alpha, Fletcher interrupted, his tone strictly professional. We have an immediate logistical issue regarding the Maeve Wolfe Sanctuary land transfer. The council needs your authorization now.
I closed my eyes, suppressing a frustrated growl. The Alpha King’s duties were dragging me away just as her walls were beginning to crack. I stood and gently released her hands, completely unaware that leaving her to manage the Wolfe Hotel alone tomorrow would walk her straight into a viper’s trap.
Adelina POV
Kain’s absence left a cold, echoing void in my chest, but I had absolutely no time to dwell on it. The lobby of The Wolfe Hotel Group HQ was a chaotic sea of luggage carts and chattering teenagers. The Vienna Youth Symphony had just arrived, and the pressure to maintain our Pack’s flawless reputation after the violent incident with Jase Davenport was suffocating.
I stood near the concierge desk, my dormant wild rose scent tightly controlled, when a man shoved his way through the crowd.
He wore a tailored suit, but the cheap cologne he had drenched himself in couldn’t mask the underlying sour stench of a Rogue — the scent of fear, desperation, and a distinct lack of Pack honor.
R𝘦a𝘥 t𝗁𝘦 l𝘢te𝘴𝘵 𝘁𝗋e𝗇𝖽𝘴 𝘰n
“Ms. Wolfe,” the man demanded, his tone dripping with arrogant entitlement. “I am Zack Rutledge, the symphony’s lead soloist. In this case is a 1715 Stradivarius worth five million dollars. I refuse to leave it in a standard room safe. I demand Alpha-level security. It goes into the Alpha’s Vault, or we pull our entire reservation and notify the press of your inadequate facilities p>
It was a blatant, insulting provocation. An outsider demanding access to my father’s private vault was unheard of. But with dozens of Pack Elders and human VIPs watching my every move, I couldn’t afford to show a single crack in my authority.
“We accommodate our VIPs, Mr. Rutledge,” I said, my voice a mask of glacial professionalism. A faint, malicious gleam flashed in his eyes, but I dismissed it as a diva’s satisfaction.
I scanned the chaotic lobby and caught the eye of Harvey Hester. My newly promoted Executive Director of Operations was juggling two cell phones, his usually crisp, loyal Warrior scent drowned beneath the acidic tang of pure exhaustion.
“Harvey,” I said, using my absolute Luna tone to cut through his distraction. “Personally escort Mr. Rutledge to my office. Secure the violin in the Alpha’s Vault, log it, and double-check the locks p>
“Right away, Luna,” Harvey nodded, rubbing his tired eyes.