Third Person’s POV


    ‘Alpha Damian,” Lance’s voice was low and melodic, yet it carried a chill that could freeze blood.


    ‘We met on the battlefield many years ago. Do you remember?”


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    While Lance wasn’t as massive or rugged as Damian–who was built like a grizzly bear–the sheer, dominant pressure radiating ‘rom his body was far more potent.


    Under this disy of rank–based suppression, Damian’s wolf instinctively recoiled.


    He was forced to retract his wandering gaze and turn his head, offering Lance a strained, tight smile.


    Just moments ago, while speaking with his aide Ss, Damian had used only thenguage of the Western Tribe, feigning an arrogant inability to understand the capital’s dialect.


    But now, under Lance’s direct pressure, he spoke in near–perfect, standard capital tongue.


    ‘How could I forget?” Damian let out a dry, forced chuckle.


    ‘It’s been years, Alpha Lance. You’re certainly not that pup on the battlefield whose fangs hadn’t even finished growing.”


    .ance narrowed his eyes, a dangerous light flickering within them. The weight of his presence remained locked firmly on Damian’s


    hroat.


    ‘Since <i>you </i>know I’m no longer that young wolf… then did you stare so maliciously at my mate because you think my fangs have ‘usted? <i>Do </i><i>you </i>think I’m someone you can just provoke?”


    A sh of <i>annoyance </i>crossed Damian’s eyes.


    ording to the unspoken agreement between the two nations, tonight was supposed to be a peaceful “feeling out” dinner. Any blood or thunder was <i>meant </i>to stay on the negotiation table tomorrow.


    For Alpha Lance to so brazenly release his pheromones as a threat over a she–wolf was, in Damian’s mind, peak arrogance.


    Damian turned his head toward Lycan Erasmus, trying to signal the ruler to reel in his undisciplined brother.


    However, Lycan Erasmus seemedpletely oblivious to the aura sh happening below him.


    He chose that exact moment to look away, raising his ss toward Princess Helia and praising loudly.


    “I’ve heard many rumors about Lycan King Orion. They say he proved his Alpha bloodline on the battlefield at the age of sixteen. Leading a pack at such a young age… that’s true grit. Quite admirable.”


    Helia raised her ss gracefully, returning the wless political banter with a smile.


    <i>“</i><i>You </i>tter him, Lycan Erasmus. We’ve also heard that before you took the throne, you fought alongside Alpha Bentley on the front lines without a single defeat. That record of supreme glory is what trulymands our respect.”


    It was a ssic performance–two sides wearing masks and blowing smoke.


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    Every high–ranking wolf in the room knew the reality: while Orion was brutal and war–hungry, he hadn’t actually achieved any decisive, legendary victories back then.


    And the only reason Lycan Erasmus was “undefeated” was because he had a once–in–a–century war god like Alpha Bentley to take all the hits for him during a period where no massive–scale wars had actually broken out.


    The ttery was hypocritical to the core.


    Damian, seeing that Lycan Erasmus was ignoring him and that Lance wasn’t letting up on the Alpha pheromones, felt his wolf begin to growl irritably.


    He wanted nothing more than to flip the damn table and tear into the blood debt of the Bloodscar border right here and now.


    Just as Damian’s eyes began to glow with a fire that signaled an impending shift, Lance suddenly spoke up in a casual, offhand


    tone.


    “I heard Commander Pierce was seriously injured recently. How is his recoverying along?”


    Damian forced his hostility back down, answering stiffly, “Thank you for the concern, Alpha Lance. He’s mostly recovered.”


    “Is that so?” Lance swirled the wine in his goblet.


    “What a shame. I thought General Pierce would be leading the delegation himself this time.”


    Damian’s gaze turned to ice.


    “His condition is stable, but a wolf’s healing takes time. His body couldn’t handle this kind of long–distance travel yet.”


    Lance acted as if he had <i>no </i>idea that Pierce had actually been thrown into a dungeon by his political rivals back in the Western Tribe. He took a light sip of his wine.


    “Speaking of injuries, our Alpha Zander is in the same boat. He was wounded twice on the front lines in a single year. He just had his seventieth birthday; his healing factor isn’t what it used to be. But to ensure both our nations get the closure they deserve, he dragged his broken body all the way from the Bloodscar border back to the capital.”


    Damian’s brow twitched, the veins in his forehead bulging.


    What was this bastard ying at?


    Wasn’t the agreement to avoid border talk tonight?


    If Lance wanted to show his fangs here, Damian had plenty of venom to spit back!


    However, before the growl could leave Damian’s throat, Lance weirdly pivoted the topic again.


    “By the way, I heard you enjoy spending your time at the forge? Have you crafted any lethal new toystely? I’d love to see your


    work.”


    This jarring shift in conversation left Damian feeling stifled–his rage was boiling, but he had nowhere to aim it.


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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.


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