A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Chapter 115

Third Person’s POV

Ulrik’s cedar pheromones exploded suddenly, his wolf–transformed knuckles gleaming silver.

He stared at Velda’s blood–stained battle armor, recalling how she had recklessly charged for glory on the Southern Border, luring werewolf warriors into an ambush.

Now, here she was, humiliating his family in a sickroom. Old and new grievances surged in his heart.

“Enough!” His palm, carrying the Alpha’s aura, struck Velda’s right cheek.

The wolf–claw nails left three shallow red marks. “Do you have any respect for your elders?”

Velda stumbled back in shock, clutching her stinging check, disbelief etched on her face as she looked at the man who had once taken a knife for her in battle. “You struck me?”

Another slap followed, this one laced with sulfur–tinged, chaotic pheromones. “Get out! Don’t let me catch you causing a scene in mother’s sickroom again.”

Velda was furious. Her wolf–head sword at her waist hummed with bestial transformation.

But instead of grasping her weapon, she seized the oak–wood round stool–custom–made by Adelaide for Rosemary’s comfort–and swung it at Ulrik’s head. “I’ll take you down with me!”

Ulrik dodged instinctively to the side. The stool smashed straight into Isaiah’s head behind him.

“Father!”

Ulrik and Tamara exclaimed in unison. Isaiah’s head gushed blood, and he collapsed with a thud. 2

stood stunned for a moment before rushing to lift

his father’s bleeding temple. His elongated

the doctor now!”

furious lion. “Out!

was paralyzed with fear

her blind rage, she hadn’t intended

filled with a mix of fear and wronged,

chest. “Go, bring Vanya

reservations about reaching out

1/3

would pay any price to have

doctor entered

severe, and Isaiah

injections, but

was grave–the injury might have affected the brain. He suggested calling Shaman Digby to ensure

Tenar paled at the mention of

could they possibly afford him

a day and night of pleading to convince Digby to

made it clear he would no longer

“Absurd!”

slammed her fist on the table, the dim yard lights casting shadows on her angry

Tamara, scolded by her, kept their heads

deep grooves oozing silver–blue blood beads–the Frostfang Pack’s signature battle mark. “Have you forgotten how you schemed over her dowry during the marriage negotiations? If it weren’t for the Lycan King’s Moon Crown Order, you would have added her Frostwolf Manor to the Bloodmoon Pack’s ledger long ago,

pressed their lips tightly together, not

an ounce of mercy? You even schemed to seize her Frostfang assets. If it weren’t for Lycan Erasmus’s command, wouldn’t