A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Chapter 41

Adelaide’s POV

+8 Pearls

When Alpha Lance found me, I was sharpening my silver claws with the new recruits.

His frost–kissed ears bristled with anger, and his voice had that gravelly growl unique to werewolves, “Pack up. I’m sending you back to the capital before dawn.” I gripped the rust–stained whetstone, my bandaged knuckles straining from my wolf transformation. I said, “The Frostfang Pack doesn’t have cowards. Unless you cut off my claws.” He stared at my bleeding palm for what felt like ten heartbeats, then growled hoarsely, “Don’t die too quickly,” and strode away, his mud- splattered cloak flapping behind him.

My wolf nudged me and said, “His scent is intoxicating.”

lignored it. Angela peeked out from behind a barracks post, her rose–gold earrings catching the firelight.

“Does this wolf general always behave like a savage?” she asked.

Paisley scuffed a frozen blood clod with her boot. The sulfur pheromones of the Western Tribal wolves mixed with her sigh. “After three years here, who isn’t a mess?”

True enough, the southern border had been a battleground for years.

My father had commanded here. Now it was Alpha Lance’s turn.

Halbert patted his curved blade and said, “Savages make the best fighters. It’s a good thing.”

On Christmas Eve, Frostbite Town’s gates burst open at dawn.

Waves of werewolf warriors flooded out, Western Tribes and Dragon Ash wolves in mixed armor, indistinguishable from each other.

the battlefield for the first time, my palms

with the transformed wolves, I recalled my father’s notes, “In werewolf

claws.”

a werewolf warrior’s throat, the warm

nose.

find the enemy’s totem pole

northern bait tactic.

fought on. From sunrise to moonrise, my arms

with dried blood, and bodies beneath

3.22 PM ct c

Chapter 41

travel and training, couldn’t heal it

+8 Pearls

Ash warriors retreated into the town, I collapsed into

gasping, “How many did you kill?” I flexed my

rise on wolf–claws but only kicked up ice water. “Fifty for me!

by,

lost three thousand warriors. The

blood–soaked fur clinging to me like a moving blood carpet, lunged at me, “Alpha Lance tallied your kills! Three hundred and seven throats slit!” His palm slapped my shoulder, pain ringing in my ears. “Every werewolf general’s saying you honor the Frostfang Pack and

at the blood grooves on my peach–blossom spear. I remembered my father’s calloused hand gripping mine on his

depend solely on your weapon and an unyielding

of rust. I noticed her wine–red braid

wolf howls echoed as