A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Chapter 67

Adelaide’s POV

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Angela hurriedly rushed over, grabbing Paisley’s waist from behind and tugging her back. Her wolf cars, pressed tightly against her scalp, betrayed her anxiety.

“She’s a general. As Iron Claw warriors, we can’t attack our superior. Alpha Lance is strict, and we still have to fight alongside Adelaide.”

Paisley was fuming, her wolf fur bristling like steel wires.

Her claws nearly shredded the crimson Flame Pack emblem on her belt. “Let me go! What kind of lousy officer is she? I don’t care about Alpha Lance. I’ll defecate on her face!”

Velda’s pheromones surged, her voice trembling with a wolf howl. “How dare you!”

I was both amused and irritated. Snatching the sulfur–reeking whip from Paisley’s hand–a signature weapon of the Crimson Flame Pack that could produce sonic booms when swung–I casually tossed it at her feet.

“Go back. I need to talk to her.”

Paisley lashed out at the icy ground with her whip.

Her strength split the frozen soil, creating a blue–glowing crack that stretched all the way to the bonfire stand, sending pine logs clattering noisily.

“You better scold her to death. Otherwise, I’ll be back to finish the job.”

She stormed off.

Velda. The frost–wolf insignia on his

Velda said. You staged it for

“Are you flattering yourselves? A performance for you?

stepped forward, her silver–wolf shoulder badge brushing

“Ellen stood there motionless as you stabbed him. He didn’t flinch, just conceded.

pendant on my spear tip tracing

five cracks snaked toward where Ellen had

footprints–spots where I’d pulled

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Chapter 67

cracks, à reluctant growl

to a cloying pine scent as

in the challenge. But I was the

forever be the Kingdom’s first female Gamma, Ulrik’s mate.

burst into mocking laughter, then

title of ‘Alpha Ulrik’s Luna‘ or that ‘first female Gamma shit. Why would I replace you? Since you belittle she–wolves,

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so you’re attacking my character now. You care more than you let

carvings on

flatter yourself. Maybe you should see a pack physician–they

toward the bonfire,

tensed like silver bowstrings

I reached the battlements, grabbed a poisoned bolt from a guard, and hurled

bolt embedded itself squarely in the