A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Chapter 44

Third Person’s POV

+8 Pearls

Adelaide licked the blood from her lips and drank the last swallow of wine from the bag.

The distant smoke, mixed with the scent of blood, drifted from Frostbite Town, whose walls loomed in the dusk.

Her silver spear dragged a long blood streak on the ground. Her heartbeat matched the heavy rhythm of the wolf–head flag in the night wind.

This was just the beginning. Velda’s debts and the Western Tribes‘ hidden blades would all be settled here on the southern border.

Alpha Lance adjusted tactics with precision, leading the charge like a well–oiled machine, his golden–trimmed blade cutting through enemies.

The blade sliced through the Western Tribes‘ wolf warriors‘ armor, avoiding fatal spots to leave deep gashes around joints–a psychological tactic to overwhelm the enemy’s medical capacity.

This wasn’t mercy.

As a werewolf general with a decade of experience on the southern border, Lance understood. better than anyone: overwhelming the enemy’s medical capacity with casualties was more intimidating than direct kills.

When Dragon Ash warriors had to allocate a third of its forces to treat the wounded, it exposed a fatal weakness.

No general would ignore the wounded, as it would crush morale.

By nightfall, the battle ceased.

flew past the battlements with the setting

picked up Adelaide’s wolf–head

crystals. “Three hundred and seventeen confirmed kills–the Warscar Training

caked with blood

gave her a thumbs–up. “Another fine

merit–it was her father’s wish to

perished here. Even if she was the sole survivor of her family,

Chapter 44

+8 Pearls

When she’d arrived, the wind had painted. her cheeks a ruddy hue, like overripe fruit,

Lance was hard–pressed to recognize

clotted with dried blood from the battlefield, strands sticking together

was torn and bloodied, with no patch of clean skin visible beneath

looked more disheveled than a street

recalling the vibrant girl he used to see at the Warscar Training Camp–full of life and fire. She

croaked, her chapped lips parting to utter a

hair twitched. “We’re all hungry. Bear with

weakly,

our werewolf kingdom, no general has achieved such a record in their first battle. Not even your father, who killed a mere one hundred

up, the ice shards on her ears scattering like

war drum being struck, leaned on her silver spear, and strode out, her bloodied cloak trailing behind. Each

a

her since

broke through the blockade with salted meat and moon