Third Person’s POV


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    They were, after all, linked by the “alliance through the mating bond,” and Christine, being from the Ironw Pack, usually kept her distance from the Bloodmoon’s internal drama.


    But when it came to buying life–saving medicine, Rosemary never expected that Christine would insist on settling the bill down to thest penny, even at a moment like this.


    Rosemary instinctively felt a rush of humiliation. It was the shame of being exposed as weak and broke in front of others.


    She involuntarily wed at the bedsheets and quickly gave Barbara a look, trying to maintain her dignity as the “former Bloodmoon Luna.”


    There was no way she could utter the words.


    Barbara immediately understood and, bracing herself, spoke up, her voice thin and tentative, “Christine…. could you advance us the money? We promise we will pay you backter.”


    Christine raised an eyebrow, as if she’d heard an utterly illogical request. Her voice was calm and precise. “I rushed out the door. Why would I be carrying that much cash with me?”


    Barbara’s voice was barely a whisper. “You could go back to the Ironw territory to get the money, and then go buy the medicine.”


    Christine smiled–a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Wouldn’t that mean making unnecessary detours? I’d have to go all the way back to Ironw and then circle back to Digby Medical Center.”


    Her gaze settled on Rosemary’s face, and she spoke every word clearly, “Why don’t you just give me the money now? You’ll have to pay it back eventually anyway. No matter how much the Bloodmoon territory has declined, you can’t tell me you don’t have twenty thousand dors lying around.”


    Rosemary’s face instantly turned purple. Her heart felt violently wrung in her chest–she knew this was a deliberate call–out.


    Barbara frantically tried to smooth things over, her lips stiff. “Of course we do… it’s just that the person in charge of the ounts is currently not in thepound, so… we can’t ess the cash right away.”


    Christine stood up and adjusted her cuffs, her tone unhurried. “Then send someone to fetch the ountant back.”


    She reported her n as if it were a mundane schedule update, “I’ll go check on Gloria first. Once you send the money, I’ll take a trip to Digby Medical Center.”


    She paused, then added a sentence that sounded polite butcked any warmth. “The Ironw and the Bloodmoon still have a pact, so I won’t stand by and do nothing. But the pack that owes the debt must be the one to pay it.”


    With a slight nod. Christine made her exit, her demeanor impable.


    31


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    Stepping out of the wing, the damp evening wind of the Bloodmoon territory swept away the stifling atmosphere of the room.


    Gloria had been kept in bed for rest these past few days. All noise in the vi was suppressed, leaving only the soft sound of patrolling wolf footsteps outside the window.


    After the trauma of her difficultbor, she had be much quieter.


    Every time the house fell silent, she would close her eyes and remember the moment she was nearly dragged into the darkness–like her whole wolf was thrown into icy water, limbs too heavy to move, with only a tiny instinct left to cling to life.


    Before this, she always dismissed Tamara, seeing her as a weak she–wolf–the kind who jumped into a river after a scolding, failed at suicide, and then hanged herself. A pathetic, boneless creature, bothughable and pitiable.


    But when she herself came close to death, feeling that chilling paralysis creeping over her body, and her own inner wolf couldn’t even manage a proper howl, she was forced to admit: for a she–wolf as timid and unsupported as Tamara, crossing that threshold to death twice must have required an unimaginable degree of despair.


    The thought made her chest tighten painfully.


    Guilt silently took root in her heart. At first, she desperately clung to the notion that Tamara’s death was Tamara’s choice, and she was not responsible.


    She had only “said a few nasty things” and “managed the pack strictly.”


    But Christine had systematicallyid out those “nasty things” and “strict management” details.


    In Christine’s cool analysis, Gloria suddenly saw a magnified reflection of herself: sharp–tongued, cruel- hearted, constantly standing on the shoulders of the weakest she–wolf to prove she wasn’t a total failure.


    The magnified shadow was herself.


    She truly didn’t understand how she had be this person.


    She was from Ironw, raised pampered and privileged, never having to worry about survival for a day. She should have had the grace to be generous, not cling so tightly to every penny and every perceived victory.


    But after entering the Bloodmoon Pack, it was as if something had seized her throat. She chose “money,” “face,” and “superiority” over a living person, time and time again.


    A soft knock came at the door. She quickly wiped away her tears.


    Christine pushed the door open, the clean, Ironw scent washing over the room.


    Gloria knew perfectly well that Christine was not her ally, but the moment she saw the familiar scent, her throat constricted. “I truly don’t know why I was like that to Tamara. I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to antagonize her.


    Sara Lili


    <strong>Sara Lili</strong> is a daring romance writer who turns icyndscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of d’s breathtaking cold.