Chapter 257
Chapter 257:
Instead of handing it to him, I turned and threw it as hard as I could down the corridor.
The platinum band bounced off the beige carpet and clattered directly into the open slot of the stainless-steel garbage chute at the end of the hall.
“Are you insane?!” Quentin shrieked. He dropped the roses and scrambled down the hallway, dropping to his knees and frantically clawing at the edge of the chute like a pathetic, starving dog.
I punched my code into the door lock. The deadbolt clicked open.
As Quentin realized the ring was gone, he turned back to me, his face twisted in pure rage. I stepped into the threshold of my apartment and looked down at him.
“The man who answered my phone — he’s not like you, Quentin,” I whispered, my voice dropping into a chilling, dead calm. “He’s powerful. The kind of powerful that makes people disappear. Stay away from me. Or you will find out just how small you really are p>
Quentin froze on the carpet. The sheer, unknown terror of Grant Blackwell’s shadow completely paralyzed him. All the color drained from his face.
I stepped inside and slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolt.
I leaned against the heavy wood and let out a long, shaky breath. I was finally free. But before I could even take off my coat, the screen of my cell phone lit up in my purse.
I pulled it out. It was a text message from the number Grant had forced into my contacts earlier that morning.
He’s gone. You’re safe.
𝖱e𝖺𝗱 o𝘯 а𝘯𝘺 𝗱e𝘷iс𝖾 o𝗇 ѕ.с𝘰𝗺
Adelina POV
Two days after the summit at St. Jude’s Academy, the Alpha Office at The Wolfe Hotel was a sanctuary of quiet, focused power. The air hummed with the sharp, determined scent of my wild roses and storm, mingling with the unsteady, lingering aroma of Carmella’s rosemary and rain.
A sharp knock broke the silence.
The heavy mahogany door opened, and a towering Warrior in pitch-black Blackstone Pack tactical gear stepped inside. He didn’t speak. He simply walked to my desk, bowed his head respectfully, and placed a thin, cold slab of pure obsidian on my blotter before turning and leaving the room.
Carmella looked up from her laptop, her eyes widening as she took in the dark object.
“The Obsidian Club,” she breathed, standing up and walking over to my desk. She traced the ancient Lycan runes etched into the black stone. “Adelina, this is an invitation to Kain’s private poker game. It’s his absolute inner circle — Fletcher Banks, Xavier Vance, and Harrison Thorne. They are apex predators. Mates and women are strictly forbidden from these games p>
I stared at the obsidian, my heart executing a sudden, frantic flutter. “Then why is he inviting me p>
“Because he’s claiming you,” Carmella said, her voice laced with awe. “He’s bringing you into a room full of centuries-old Lycans and top-tier Alphas to publicly declare your absolute authority as his future Luna. It’s a test, Adelina. He wants to see how you stand in a room built on primal power and political warfare p>