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Chapter 359

Third Person’s POV

“Paisley! Priscilla’s voice lashed through the room like a whip. An icy, oppressive aura erupted from her. pinning Georgina and the omega servants against the walls with invisible force.

Her golden eyes, narrowed to slits, glittered dangerously. “Go fetch that breeder, Willow. Bring her to the conference hall. I need to have a word with Soulrend Pack about whether such a she–wolf still deserves to run with the pack.”

Georgina and Paige stayed behind to navigate the pack politics and support Melinda, so the task of dragging Willow fell to hot–tempered Paisley.

“And Dwight?” Paisley asked, her knuckles cracking with anticipation.

Priscilla shot her a look, her aura easing slightly but her gaze still sharp as a blade. “If Willow’s coming, do you think he’ll stay away?”

Paisley grinned. Priscilla was usually sharp–witted, but now she was positively brilliant.

Guided by an omega servant, Paisley burst into Willow’s den like a storm fueled by sulfuric fury.

Dwight, still seething from his earlier run–in with Georgina where he’d lost two teeth, was in no mood for interruptions.

Under the cloying pheromones of Willow, he was in the middle of undoing his jacket, ready to embrace her.

The air hung thick with the scent of impending passion when the door exploded inward with a thunderous crash.

Dwight roared, “Who the hell-

His question died mid–roar.

room, her hand lunging out. Her fingers, now

his cheek ballooning

Paisley had Willow by the

like a ragdoll. “Love playing the victim, do we? Today’s your lucky day for

tore

her back down, again and again. Each time, Willow’s body scraped against the rough stone, her

throbbing jaw, stumbled outside, Willow was

Chapter 359

a disheveled nest, her face a crimson ruin of blood

at the sight of Willow. Fury surged

seeming to hum with rage. “Who the hell are you? How dare

crush Paisley with his

laughed, a cold, sharp sound. In an instant, she erupted with a sulfuric fury that scattered

her feet, her claws digging

I’ve got a special hatred for scum like

You don’t know the first thing about honor or decency, yet you call yourself

rolled back, her breaths coming in wet,

by her words and the oppressive stench of her rage, could barely speak. He was so furious he could barely keep

interested in his

Willow’s collar and stalked toward the conference

reality with

the conference table, her presence a glacier of

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