Chapter 396
Chapter 396:
My icy dismissal shattered the last fragile thread of his sanity. Brent descended into a blubbering, incoherent rage, thrashing against the Warriors’ iron grips.
The violent commotion acted like blood in the water. From the plaza below, dozens of paparazzi and reporters—including scouts from The Howl—swarmed the steps. Camera flashes erupted in a blinding, strobe-like frenzy, capturing the fallen Parrish heir and the newly crowned Luna.
They began shouting questions, their microphones thrust forward, eager to turn my victory into a cheap, chaotic circus.
Kain stepped smoothly in front of me, eclipsing the flashing lights with his broad shoulders. The atmospheric pressure plummeted. His ancient cedar scent exploded outward, turning violently aggressive. The sheer, suffocating weight of the Lycan King’s dominance hit the front row of reporters like a physical blow, forcing humans and wolves alike to stumble backward in primal terror.
Then, Kain turned to me. He cupped my jaw with his large, scarred hand, tilting my face up.
Y𝗼𝗎r 𝘥a𝘪𝗹у 𝖽𝗼𝘀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗇𝗈𝘷еl𝘴 о𝘯 𝘨а𝘭ոovеl𝘴.𝖼𝗈𝗺
Right in front of the dozens of cameras, he crashed his mouth down on mine. It was a brutal, devouring, and deeply possessive kiss. He wasn’t just silencing the crowd; he was claiming me before the entire world. The electric spark of our incomplete Mate-bond flared to life, and instead of shrinking from the public spectacle, I melted into his scorching heat, tangling my fingers in his lapels.
The camera shutters went absolutely frantic, immortalizing the Lycan King’s undeniable decree of ownership.
Escorted by the Warriors, we descended the rest of the steps and slipped into the waiting armored Maybach. The heavy doors thudded shut, instantly severing the chaotic noise of the plaza.
The moment we were sealed in the dim, leather-scented cabin, the passionate heat in Kain’s golden eyes hardened into lethal, calculating ice. He stared straight ahead, tapping into the Pack Mind-Link.
Through the fragile tether of our bond, the sheer force of his wrath bled into my mind. I clearly perceived the exact, merciless command he transmitted to his Beta, Fletcher Banks.
Find every hidden asset. Bankrupt him. Then break his legs. I want him to spend the rest of his miserable life as a crippled Rogue, begging for scraps in the gutters.
Brent Parrish’s fate was permanently sealed in that single breath. He was about to be erased financially, physically, and socially. Sitting beside the most dangerous predator on the continent, I felt no fear. I only felt a chilling, profound sense of justice and absolute security.
With the Parrish family finally reduced to ash, my dormant White Wolf settled. But as the Maybach merged into the Manhattan traffic, I pulled my phone from my purse, and a different kind of anxiety gnawed at my chest.
I opened my messages. Carmella hadn’t answered my texts in two days. She had even missed the crucial quarterly financial review at The Wolfe Hotel this afternoon—something the meticulous CFO would never do. The horrific double blow of her adoptive father’s injury and the revelation of her fabricated bloodline had pushed her to the edge.