A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Chapter 249

Third Person’s POV

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After a commotion filled with low growls and the rustling of fur, it seemed Priscilla had taken her seat.

Then, the Warscar Training Camp requested another stone throne be brought in for Irene and Klein to sit and receive Adelaide and Lance’s “tributes.”

Traditionally, Adelaide should have bid farewell to her ancestral spirits under the moonlight in her birth pack before joining her mate’s territory.

How could Lance show reverence to her mentor in his own Blackthorn Pack?

This defied werewolf tradition.

Klein’s deep, authoritative voice boomed like a wolf king’s growl, “In the name of the Moon Goddess and bloodline, I am Lance’s mentor, guiding him to harness power. Why shouldn’t Laccept his tribute?”

Who cared about archaic traditions?

In the wild, power was law, and the strong made the rules.

Klein’s logic was unassailable. As Lance’s mentor, he sat on the stone throne symbolizing power, representing the source of Lance’s strength–a rightful and legitimate place.

Side by side, they stood before the blazing wolf smoke and towering totem pole.

A sense of familiarity washed over Adelaide. Almost instinctively, she turned toward the silver moon, quietly prompting Lance, “We need to face the moonlight.”

Lance smoothly turned, his voice calm yet undeniably commanding: “Follow the Moon Goddess’s lead.”

Adelaide immediately fell silent, realizing her’slip.

a formidable Alpha warrior, favored by royalty, and his mating partner was a

dwell on

toward the chamber reserved for

the ground uneven, her senses filled with the scents of soil, moss,

the room, Lance would help her remove

Royal Elder chanted ancient blessings, and the Blackthorn Pack’s square erupted in a deafening chorus of howls, the pack’s

in the warm room, while he ventured out to face challenges and receive well–wishes. When the bonfire feast reached

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Chapter 249

congratulations.

felt oddly

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Elder finished his chant, Ivy reminded Lance to

noticed his fingers were

both struck by mutual

the crackling of pine

other’s eyes, seeing the other’s image

held, only the wolf–like heartbeat throbbed loudly, drowning out the external

pounded like a war drum,

onto prey, was ardent and

today was unlike

drape her in silver, softening her usual sharpness, making her appear otherworldly, like a spirit from the depths

a white

Adelaide was equally captivated.

her stood Lance, more dazzling

his usual battle–worn armor for the mating ceremony

from diminishing his handsomeness, it accentuated his