Page 47 of Merciless Vow
My stomach turned, a cold, oily wave of nausea rolling over me. This was why I had left. This was why I had clawed my way into the human world and buried my wolf under layers of logic and academia and spreadsheets. Wolves like Dante and my father treated their children like pawns in a never-ending game of chess, sacrificed for a square of territory or a percentage of a shipping lane.
"You know the Blackwoods will come for their property," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady even as my pulse thundered in my ears. "If you provide me with an escort back to Blackwood Holdings right now, I won't tell them where I’ve been. We can call this a misunderstanding of the Old Laws."
Dante’s smile didn't reach his eyes. "Oh, but I want them to know where you’ve been, Adolpha. I want them to know with whom you’ve been. I can smell your heat coming. By the time Vidar realizes you’re gone, you’ll be carrying the next generation of Lupettos. And your father will finally have the alliance he was promised."
The mention of my father—the confirmation of his betrayal—snapped something inside me. The fear didn't vanish. It was eclipsed by a white-hot flash of defiance. I didn't wait for Dante to lean in again. I lunged.
Even with the wolfsbane screaming in my veins, I moved faster than they would've expected. I swung my hand, my palm flat and aimed for his throat, intending to crush his windpipe. But I was human-slow, and he was an Alpha, fueled by the very nature I had been robbed of.
Dante’s hand shot out, his fingers hooking into a clawed grip. He caught my wrist mid-air with a strength that made my bones groan. Before I could pull away, his thick, yellowed nails lengthened, slicing deep across my fingers.
I gasped as four jagged lines of crimson bloomed across my index finger. It was a paper cut, but it still hurt. Mainly because I didn't want this creature’s touch.
Dante didn't let go. He jerked me closer, his eyes glowing with a sickening, triumphant light. Around the room, the other wolves shifted, their leers widening. I could hear the low, rhythmic thumping of their hearts, the sound of predators scenting blood in the water. They weren't going to stop him. They were going to watch. They were going to enjoy it.
I looked at the open wound on my hand. The room was full of wolves; the air was thick with the scent of my own blood and my rising heat, and I realized that being the smartest person in the room wouldn't be enough to save me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
VIDAR
The executive floor was a graveyard of ambition. I had cleared the halls, sending the human staff scurrying home with a barked command that left the air vibrating. The wolves had taken one look at me and known to make themselves scarce. Now, only the family remained. The glass walls, once a symbol of our transparency and power, felt like a cage.
My father stood at the head of the mahogany conference table, his presence anchoring the room. He didn't need to shout; the mere weight of his scent demanded total focus. My eyes tracked Magnus and Gunnar as they worked the perimeter.
I stood by the window, my hands clenched so tight that I broke skin. I didn't care if she had run or if she had been taken. The distinction was a luxury I couldn't afford. I just wanted her back.
The shame was a cold stone in my gut. I had failed. I had looked my father in the eye and accepted the responsibility of this merger—of this woman—and in less than a week, I’d lost her. I should have kept her on lockdown. I should have worked harder to make her fall for me, to weave a web of such intense devotion that the very thought of the elevator doors would make her recoil.
But I had enjoyed the chase. I had liked the way she’d run from me the first time, her head high and her eyes sparking with defiance. I was a predator; the hunt was in my blood. This time, when I had no clue where she was and there was no trace, the hunt felt like a slow-motion car crash.
"We have the feed," Gunnar called out, his voice sharp with focus.
Elias was hunched over the terminal next to him, his face pale as he watched the grainy security footage. We saw her—Addie, draped in a scarf that I had no memory of taking from her apartment or buying for her and placing in her closet at the penthouse. She ducked behind a group of developers to bypass the enforcers. She looked like a pro. She looked as if she was leaving us in the rearview mirror.
"She ran." Magnus rubbed his jaw with an unreadable look in his eyes. "She took the first gap we gave her, and she ran."
"No," Elias snapped. "She wouldn't have left without me." He froze, a wince crossing his face as if he’d just admitted to a secret escape plan they’d been whispering about on that private server.
Gunnar didn't comment. He just scrubbed the footage forward to the street view. Elias had not only gotten into our security cameras, but other buildings as well. We watched as Addie reached the corner, her hand raised for a cab. Then, a black SUV blurred into the frame. The door swung open, a cloth was placed over her face, and she was hauled inside.
"That wasn't a Vane pickup," I growled, my wolf snapping at the bit. "None of those men are her father's."
Fenrir leaned in, his eyes narrowing on the freeze-frame as he studied the man who had shoved her into the car. "I know that face. That’s a Lupetto enforcer. Old guard. A scavenger named Silvio."
Magnus tapped the screen and set his cell phone in the center of the table. It rang once. Twice. A third time—long enough that it felt intentional.
"Blackwood."
Valentino Lupetto’s voice slid through the speaker, touched with a faint Italian lilt that was manufactured. The man had been born and raised in the Bronx.
"Adolpha Blackwood, do you have her?" Magnus asked.
A beat.
"I haven’t seen Addie Vane in years. Not since she ran from our arranged marriage."
I rocked back on my heels. Magnus watched me from the corner of his eye. "You were engaged?"
