Third Person’s POV
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By bringing up the assassination attempt and demanding a formal response before the actual negotiations even started, Lance appeared candid and sincere, but he was actually applying massive psychological pressure on the Western delegation.
In fact, the Western envoys almost wished Lance would be sleazier–they wanted him to use the incident as a tant bargaining chip. That way, both sides could drop the pretense of diplomatic grace and get straight to the cutthroat business of national interests.
At this moment, every member of the delegation–except for Bobby Potter–was cursing Damian in their hearts.
A trigger–happy idiot like him thought he could rece Pierce? Utterly delusional.
Lance maintained a calm gaze, locked in a silent standoff with his counterparts.
He knew this was a psychological war of attrition. The Westerners held the “Bloodscar Massacre” card; they should have been the ones roaring in anger, posing arrogant questions, and tossing impossible demands onto the table.
But now, thanks to that boneheaded assassination attemptst night, they had lost their moral high ground.
While the crimesmitted by Zander’s army were objectively unforgivable, Milo’s assassination attempt had happened only a few hours ago.
The scandal, still dripping with fresh blood, had instantly shattered the delegation’s defensive front.
Damian couldn’t stand the pressure of being scrutinized by Lance like a piece of prey.
He mmed his broad palm onto the written confession, met Lance’s eyes, and roared through gritted teeth.
“These are two separate issues! We can’t even confirm ifst night’s ‘assassination‘ is real yet! It’s not toote to talk about it after a full investigation! Right now, get back to the topic of the ceasefire!”
Instead of being provoked, Lance leaned back, shifting into a morefortable position.
His expression remained frosty, his lips curling into a mocking sliver of a smile.
“Need more investigation? Lycan Gamma Damian, didn’t you hear Milo’s screams with your
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own ears in the dungeonst night?”
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Lance paused, his voice dropping to a dangerous chill. “Since you have doubts about the murder attempt… fine. We’ll wait until you’ve finished your investigation. We can resume this negotiation then.”
“No! We cannot dy this any longer!”
Damian panicked instantly. He desperately needed either a signed treaty or a total copse of talks to secure his political capital back home.
“You want an exnation? Since hemitted the crime in your capital, just execute him. ording to yourws! Stop wasting time!”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!”
A roar,ced with the crushing aura of a dominant female Lycan, erupted in the hall, making the coffee cups on the table rattle.
Helia whipped her head around, her ice–blue beast eyes pinning Damian to his seat.
She hadn’t slept a wink, her head was pounding, and she’d had to down a potent herbal stimnt just to keep her wits about her.
Before entering the hall, she had warned every member: “Lance will use the assassination to attack us! We must remain apologetic and restrained! Our attitude today dictates the terms of the treaty!”
She never imagined Damian would start losing it the second the clock started.
Publicly scolded by Helia, Damian’s eyes shed with intense resentment.
But, under the weight of her rank, he ultimately shut his mouth in a disy of humiliated silence.
Having suppressed Damian, Helia took a deep breath and stood up.
With elegant, solemn grace, she offered Lance a slight bow.
“Milo Fernandez is indeed a member of the Western Kingdom’s delegation. For him to act on his own and attempt to assassinate your Luna is an unpardonable sin. On behalf of the Western Tribe, I offer my deepest apologies. As for his fate… we leave it entirely to the judgment of yourws.”
On the surface, this was a total retreat. In reality, it was a subtle trap. If Milo is punished by Northernw for a crime in the North, then by that same logic, Velda should be handed over to the West for her crimes in Snowdeer Town.
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Lance stood up as well, offering aposed nod.
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“Good. Since Princess Helia is being so forthright, we shall set that matter aside for now.”
Helia’s brow twitched.
She knew Milo’s blunder had put them on the defensive, but that was a price she now had to
pay.
By not continuing to harp on the assassination, Lance was adopting a posture of “magnanimity,” but he was actually setting the tone for the entire day. He was the one in control.
She nced at Damian out of the corner of her eye.
“This is what a real Alpha with power looks like,” she thought bitterly. “He doesn’t strike often, but when he does, he grabs your throat so hard you can’t even twitch.”
Damian’s wolf was howling in his chest, demanding to know why he was backing down in such a high–stakes arena.
He had to use every ounce of strength to keep his wolf from shifting.
His original n was to lead with the Bloodscar massacre and demandnd cessions so extreme that the North would be forced to refuse.
Then, with the talks copsed, he’d have his excuse to go home and dere war.
Instead, that assassination attempt had robbed him of his right to roar. It had pu delegation on the back foot, and even Helia was looking at him with disgust.
Damian clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white, his chest heaving.
In the observer’s section, Cyrus finally felt his frayed nerves rx slightly.
“As long as they’re sitting down and talking peace, there’s still a chance.”
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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.