Third Person’s POV
“Alpha Theodore.” Alfred straightened his messy cor and offered a respectful, formal bow.
Theodore pulled off his hat, revealing a face set in a grim line.
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“Let’s keep this short, Alfred. You know exactly why I intercepted you today. The fact that you followed me here means you know there’s still room to negotiate, right?”
Alfred went silent<b>, </b>his eyes flickering.
He wasn’t stupid. From the second he saw Theodore, he knew his little scheme had been sniffed out.
After a beat, he gave a slow nod..
Theodore felt a wave of relief wash over him. A nod was good; as long as the kid was willing to talk, he wasn’t a lost cause.
‘What are your terms?” Theodore asked bluntly. “As long as it doesn’t involve betraying the pack or trashing our morals, name it.”
Alfred lifted his head, the fire of ambition lighting up his eyes. “I want to be a student of Paisley.”
His voice wasn’t loud, but it had a sharp edge of absolute certainty. “I want to be just like Ampelio, Ellen, and Anilo.”
‘What?”
Theodore was floored.
He had expected Alfred to ask for cash, a high–ranking promotion, or even a shot at inheriting the pack leadership. He hadn’t seen hising.
Alfred saw Theodore’s shock and let a confident smirk tug at his lips. His cloak whipped in the wind.
I’ve realized something. A career built on snitching and secret reports won’tst. It has no foundation.”
If I’m going to <i>do </i>this, I want to be the <i>best </i>fighter in Lycan Erasmus’s personal guard! I want glory I earned with my own hands- he kind of respect that can’t be taken away and that people won’t spit on behind my back.”
Paisley is the bestbat instructor in the world. If I can get her to train me, my future is set.”
Meanwhile, Lance and Adide were stationed at the Golden Deer, the most luxurious tavern near the city gates.
.ance had pre–booked a VIP room on the second floor days ago under a fake name. The room had massive floor–to–ceiling windows hat, when pushed open, provided a perfect bird’s–eye view of the North Gate and the main road leading to the Pce.
He knew Adide needed this. She needed to see her grandfather from a distance, in a ce where no one could bother her.
The freezing wind rushed through the open window, messing up Adide’s hair, but she didn’t even notice.
Her eyes were locked onto the figure moving slowly through the gate like a ma.
<i>Her </i>hands gripped the windowsill so hard she left faint gouges in the hardwood.
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Inside her soul, her wolf was letting out a jagged whimper, wanting to jump from the balcony, sprint through the crowd, and copse into Zander’s arms. Just like when she was a child.
Back then, whenever she got her feelings hurt in training or was picked on by the other cubs, she’d throw herself into Zander’s broad chest. He always smelled like cedar and old iron–the scent of safety.
Zander would rub her head with his calloused hands and let out a deep, rumblingugh, “Who touched my little Ade? Tell me, and I’ll go kill’em right now!”
But she couldn’t do that today. She had to stand on this cold second floor, watching her grandfather’s horse struggle through a sea of people.
As the roar of support reached her, her tears finally broke, blurring her vision.
Zander… he looked so much older. It wasn’t just the years; it was like his very spirit was thinning out.
The grandfather in her memory had gray hair but was always vibrating with life.
Even after a long trip to the capital to report to Lycan Erasmus, he’d still hit the training pits with her father, Bentley, going for dozens of rounds without breaking a sweat, his Alpha aura still heavy enough tomand the whole field.
But the Zander down there now had hair like dry grass. Thebination of the long journey and the poison that nearly killed him had left him looking skeletal.
He had lost weight–enough to make her heart skip a beat.
His bronze skin was still there, but the muscle had sagged, and his eyes were sunken deep into his skull.
Alpha Zander sat atop his horse, navigating the boiling crowd with difficulty.
He had to <i>keep </i>nodding in thanks to the cheeringmoners while simultaneously keeping a worried eye on the Royal Guards, afraid they’d use their weapons on the innocent people trying to clear a path.
What should have been a five–minute ride took over half an hour. By the time the escort reached the street below the Golden Deer, the crowd was a solid wall.
Normally, the Royal Patrol would have stepped in to clear the way.
But there were too many people–it <i>looked </i>like every wolf in the capital had emptied out into the streets.
They stood shoulder–to–shoulder, back–to–back, forming a human shield for their hero.
When a few hot–headed guards tried to push through, the crowd roared back, but voices from within the mob kept things from turning into a riot,
“Don’t fight back! Don’t give them a reason to me Alpha Zander!”
“We’re here to wee a hero, <i>not </i>start a fight! Don’t let the guards catch you slipping!”
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<strong>Olivia Harris</strong> is an emerging author celebrated for her captivating romantic and steamy novels. With a talent for crafting deep emotional connections and fiery chemistry between her characters, Olivia’s stories offer readers an escape into worlds filled with passion, intrigue, and heart-stopping drama.