A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Chapter 3

Adelaide’s POV

Beata brought the Frostfang asset list. “You’ve covered six million in Bloodmoon’s operating costs this year alone. The mines, houses, estates? untouched. All of Luna Airella’s bank accounts and property deeds are locked in the vault.”

I stared at the list. Airella had prepared all this to ensure my happiness—how heartbreaking my current situation must be to her memory.

My wolf whined, pain lancing through me.

“Where can we even go, Adelaide?” Beata asked. “Back to Frostfang?”

The memory of Frostfang’s plaza, slick with blood, flashed before my eyes.

My heart clenched. “Anywhere’s better than here.”

“But won’t Ulrik be thrilled if we leave?” Beata fumed.

“Let him,” I said flatly. “Staying here would mean a lifetime of watching them fawn over each other. Beata, Frostfang’s down to me. I need to live well—to honor my parents and brothers. The Moon Goddess will watch over us.”

“Adelaide!” Beata sobbed.

I knew her pain—everyone she loved had died in Frostfang’s massacre.

“Is there no another way at all?”

is,” I said, my voice tinged with a wolfish

the bronze sconce cast wolf-shaped shadows on the starstone walls. “I’ll

pricked my finger on the temporary mark, silver-blue blood blooming on my shirt. “I’ll use my family’s merits to ask him to revoke the

paled. “Don’t! The Lycan King won’t agree—he’ll be furious. He has powers beyond shifters.

King allowed Ulrik and Velda to bond, he

wouldn’t leave as a deserter

Frostfang’s Alpha bloodline—one of the mightiest packs in the shifter kingdom—I’d leave with

sounded at the door. “Luna Adelaide, Luna

rose gracefully. “Let’s go,” she

Pack’s plaza, the rain having

the previous Lycan

Now it faded.

sway with the current king,

Ulrik and his brother Simon fought

remained in the pack, refusing

dwindling members,

and I arrived at Luna Rosemary’s residence. She

lounged on an obsidian sofa, her claws tapping

his mate Tamara, Ulrik’s sister Sabrina, even the

loyal companions,” I intoned, bowing to expose the healing mark on my

northern winds have

asked calmly, “Have

“Met her? She’s as rough as sandstone, though her looks