Chapter 85
Chapter 85:
I closed my eyes, the suffocating weight of my own trap crushing my lungs. I opened a secure, encrypted mind-link to my assistant, stationed in the corridor.
Leo, I linked, my mental voice heavy with a centuries-old exhaustion.
Yes, Alpha?
I stared out at the glittering, indifferent skyline of the city. I hate this plan. I hate the lies. I want to tell her the truth.
She needs time to heal, Alpha, Leo replied carefully. And she needs to secure her Pack tomorrow. If you overwhelm her now, she will run.
I severed the link, my jaw aching from the force of my clenched teeth. Leo was right. Tomorrow, she would return to the Wolfe Hotel Group headquarters to face the remnants of the Parrish loyalists. She needed to be a ruthless Luna, not a terrified Omega running from a Lycan’s obsession. I would play the cold, distant business partner for one more day, even if the lie was slowly tearing my soul to shreds.
𝖳𝘩𝗲 b𝖾𝗌t r𝘦𝖺𝖽і𝗻g ex𝘱𝖾𝗋іe𝗻𝗰𝖾 o𝗇 ga𝗹novе𝗹ѕ.𝖼𝗈m
Adelina POV
The ride from the Blackstone Medical Wing that morning had been suffocatingly silent. Kain had retreated behind his impenetrable, glacial mask, treating me like a fragile, acquired asset rather than a partner. The terrifying, protective warmth he had shown when I first woke up was completely gone, locked away behind his storm-gray eyes.
But I couldn’t afford to be fragile today. By the time I stepped into the Wolfe Hotel Group headquarters that afternoon, my residual physical weakness was buried under a layer of pure, cold resolve.
Harvey Hester met me in the hallway outside the executive suites, falling into step beside me. He handed me a thick manila folder, his scent laced with professional urgency.
“Luna,” Harvey murmured, keeping his voice low as we passed the cubicles of Pack members who were pretending to work while watching my every move. “While you were indisposed, Victor Parrish took liberties. He stole three bottles of the Pack-reserve Dom Pérignon from the executive cellar. Worse, he cornered an Omega maid in the supply closet on the fourth floor. She’s terrified p>
My blood ran ice cold.
The image of Brent Parrish trapping me in that freezing, silver-laced cellar flashed violently through my mind. The Parrish men thrived on terrorizing the weak, using their unearned status to crush anyone who couldn’t fight back. My Inner Wolf, though still dormant and recovering from the silver toxicity, seemed to radiate a phantom heat of pure, unadulterated fury.
“Not anymore,” I whispered.
I pushed open the heavy oak doors of the boardroom. The air inside was thick with the stench of stale cigars and the sour, acidic anxiety radiating from Vincent Parrish. At the far end of the massive mahogany table sat his nephew, Victor. The young, arrogant wolf had his expensive loafers propped up on the polished wood, scrolling through his phone, completely unbothered by my entrance.
“Get your feet off my table,” I commanded, my voice slicing through the room like a silver blade.