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Chapter 114

Third Person’s POV

At Tamara’s words, Sabrina’s heart filled with guilt. The light golden wolf hair on her ears bristled slightly from the emotional shock, and a reluctant whine rolled in her throat.

As a member of the Bloodmoon Pack’s Alpha family, her werewolf blood coursing with rage, she unconsciously extended half–inch wolf claws from her fingertips, snagging the hem of her skirt.

She soon became indignant with shame and leaped to her feet.

She bellowed, “We were all duped by Velda! We thought she’d help Alpha Ulrik earn merits, but she not only failed to aid him but also dragged him down. She got captured herself, and who knows which werewolf marked her……”

Her words carried a sharp tang of sulfuric pheromones.

Before she could finish, the sound of boot heels crushing moonstone tiles echoed from the doorway.

Velda stormed in, her entire being enveloped in a minty pheromone blizzard. Her knuckles, mid–shift from rage, revealed partial transformation.

Five cold–gleaming wolf claws tore through the air, leaving five bone–deep gashes on the doorframe.

In three strides, she was inside, her wolf claws seizing Sabrina’s collar with precision. The leather wrist guard snapped under the force, exposing scars of old battle wounds on her forearm.

resounding slaps, laced with werewolf aura, left Sabrina’s ears ringing. Her nape glands

instinctively submit to their Luna and

neck fur bristling with fear. She whimpered like a pup whose tail

stern, the cold light on her wolf claws reflecting the blood–red vertical pupils in her eyes. “One more

smoke of battlefields, became a tangible pressure

Velda’s ferocity, tears streaming down her face, cried,

struck, her withered wolf claws scraped crescent–shaped dents into

armrest.

pale golden pheromones, flickering

couldn’t even steady the flickering

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Chapter 114

of Velda, cedar pheromones spreading like melting snow, attempting to

tension.

wounds on his body still showed red marks from the whip soaked

His palm hovered over Velda’s shoulder, trying to soothe her

his touch, her muscles, taut as bowstrings beneath her pauldron, still bore scars from wolf fangs on the Southern

and fury. Her minty pheromones intensified. “And what if I, as the pack’s Luna, struck her? She slanders me here–why don’t

wolf claw, still stained with splinters from the doorframe, sliced through the air. “I can’t stop the outside gossip, but in the Bloodmoon Pack, does

shrunk in the bed’s corner, her wolf ears trembling with fear

with a choke, “It’s

cracked with sobs but died in

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