Third Person’s POV
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The next morning, the first light of dawn had barely touched the rooftops of the capital when an agent under Prune returned with a dangerous piece of intelligence.
As soon as the Western Tribe delegation arrived at their quarters the previous night, Alpha Howell had slipped back into Silverlight territory under the cover of darkness.
Early this morning, he had left again in disguise, appearing to covertly mobilize arge contingency of soldiers loyal only to him.
Prune’s eyes narrowed as she pieced together the potential plot.
<i>“</i>Adide, you need to stay on high alert. If Howell is truly in bed with Damian, there’s a massive chance he’s moving against you right now.”
“I know,” Adide replied, her voice cold.
In fact, the night before, a secret agent who had trained in the same recruit camp as her had reported seeing a pheromone profile in the Western delegation that was a near–match for Howell’s.
Because of that, she and Lance hadn’t slept a wink, spending the night at the map table running simtions for every possible assassination attempt or political ambush.
Nightfall, The Royal Star Hall.
Magnificent crystal chandeliers hung like clusters of stars, illuminating the grand white marble hall as if it were midday.
When Lance <i>and </i>Adide entered arm–in–arm, the Western Tribe ambassadors had already been ushered to the VIP seating on the right side of the hall.
ording to ancient court <i>protocol</i>, weapons were strictly forbidden inside the pce. The Western guards stationed outside the hall were unarmed.
However, every wolf present knew that <i>for </i>high–ranking Lycans, their ws and fangs–which could be called upon in a heartbeat- were the most lethal weapons of all.
rissa and Cami were seated near the head of the table.
Before the banquet officiallymenced, they were tasked with entertaining the leader of the Western delegation, Princess Helia.
Usually, rissa avoided such events due to her failing health.
But knowing Helia was leading the mission herself, the Old Lycan Luna–who always respected a powerful she wolf–forced herself to dress in her finest regalia and attend.
Surprisingly, rissa didn’t need a trantor to speak with Helia.
They flowed seamlessly between the officialmon tongue and the low, guttural, rhythmically wildnguage of the Western Tribe.
Hearing rissa’s mastery of the foreign tongue, a spark of surprise shed in Adide’s eyes.
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Lance and Adide first approached Lycan Erasmus to pay their respects, then turned to greet rissa.
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When the guards announced them, Helia’s ice–blue eyes deepened. She took a long, lingering look at the young she–wolf in the ornate gown–the daughter of Alpha Bentley and granddaughter of the legendary Alpha Zander.
The ckthornwork knew everything about Helia; likewise, the Princess, who held the real reins of power in her country, knew every high–ranking “fang” in the Northern Tribe.
Helia had long heard of Adide–the wolf who had be a nightmare to her enemies during the Southern Border remation thanks to her elite bloodline and terrifying tactical genius.
She also knew of Velda, the mastermind behind the massacre that had the Western Tribe screaming for blood.
Helia looked at Adide intensely for a moment before shifting her gaze with aplicated expression.
As Adide drew near, the proud princess of the rival nation actually stood up and offered a slight, respectful bow.
“Luna Adide, I have heard much of your name,” Helia said, her pronunciation of the capital’s dialect perfect.
She pointedly addressed her as “Luna Adide” rather than “Gamma Adide.”
Tonight, everyone there was either a royal by blood or a noble pack leader. While Adide held massive power in the military. tonight she was attending as Alpha Lance’s mate.
The banquet was, on the surface, a wee dinner. Both sides had agreed to hide their ws for a few hours, keeping the talk away from the bloody details of the war and the surrounding hatred.
“The feeling is mutual. It is an honor to finally meet you in person,” Adide replied, lifting her skirts in an elegant curtsy.
Adide was seated near Helia.
As they waited <i>for </i>the meal to begin, the hall was filled with the scent of expensive perfumes, all trying to mask the underlying sh of predatory pheromones.
The moment she sat down, Adide’s wolf let out a low, irritated rumble.
She felt an aggressive, predatory gaze boring into her from across the table.
She didn’t shrink back. She lifted her head and met the gaze head–on.
It was a massive male wolf.
His features bore a passing resemnce to Pierce, but his eyes were much sharper and more sinister. He radiated a cold, bone- deep aura of someone who had survived oceans of blood.
This was Damian.
His eyes held none of the respect due to the mate of a royal Alpha. His lingering stare was a mixture of tant contempt and hunger.
Just then, the towering figure of Lance sat down in the empty seat beside Damian.
Lance didn’t say a word. He simply reached out arge, powerful hand and–seemingly casually–brought it down hard on Damian’s shoulder.
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“Bang.”
The sound was heavy. Along with the touch, Lance’s Alpha aura crashed down on Damian’s shoulder like a copsing cier.
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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.