Chapter 737:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

She didn’t look any deeper. Because of her absolute obsession with Dallas’s supposed treason, she didn’t apply the same forensic scrutiny to the internal mechanisms. She completely missed the microscopic white-gold A and the moonflower pattern hidden deep within the central brass gears.

My knees buckled. I slumped into the folding chair, a shaky, exhausted exhale tearing from my lips. My illegal past as a ghost restorer had miraculously survived on the absolute edge of the cliff.

“She took the wrong bait,” Alistair whispered, shutting the laptop.

“Let her chase it,” I replied, forcing myself to stand. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead. The immediate crisis in New York was a misunderstanding that bought me time, but the real gamble was right here. “I have a King to save.”

I left the freezing garage and walked up the narrow concrete stairs to the Vanguard Medical Wing.

The sterilized operating theater was blindingly bright, reeking of harsh antiseptic and the sharp tang of nervous sweat. In the center of the room sat a high-tech deep-sleep pod. On the steel tray beside it rested a titanium box containing the Level 9 Neural Regeneration Override Drive I had risked my life to steal.

A heavy mechanical groan echoed through the corridor.

J𝘰𝗂𝗇 о𝗎𝗋 𝗰𝗈mm𝘶ո𝗂𝘵y oո 𝗀𝖺𝗹n𝗈ve𝗹s.с𝗈𝘮

The bulletproof glass doors of the medical wing were pushed open. The howling Alpine wind and freezing rain whipped into the room for a fraction of a second before the doors sealed shut.

Dallas stepped inside, leaning heavily on a silver-handled cane. Every step was a brutal battle of sheer willpower against the freshly sutured silver wound on his ribs. His massive Lycan frame was completely soaked, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. He radiated the heavy, oppressive scent of violent storms and ozone, mixed with the bitter, agonizing tang of the silver toxin actively devouring his spine. He looked exhausted, a god of war slowly being crushed by his own failing mortality.

He looked at the intimidating medical machinery, the sterile lights reflecting in his storm-gray eyes. Then his gaze shifted and locked flawlessly onto me.

There was no suspicion in his eyes. The lethal, paranoid Alpha King who had torn through the Geneva underworld vanished. Ragnar, his ferocious inner wolf, completely submitted the moment he saw his Luna. He looked at me with the absolute, unconditional trust of a fated mate, fully believing he was here for a routine detox procedure.

He didn’t know I was about to force a stolen Syndicate drive into his nervous system.

Dallas stripped off his ruined, wet coat, the muscles in his back trembling from the neurological damage. Without a single word of hesitation, he walked over and lay back on the surgical table, surrendering his life entirely into my trembling hands.

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