Third Person’s POV


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    Lance always felt like the Klein Adide described was apletely different person from the man in his own memories.


    In Lance’s eyes, Klein was tough but fair. He wasn’t some tyrant who handed out beatings for fun, nor was he the type to let things slide. Most importantly, whenever Klein got his hands on high–grade herbs or rare supplies, his inner circle of students always got


    first dibs.


    But ording to Adide, the man was a bipr sadist who lived to torture his pupils.


    Watching the two young wolves go back and forth, Alpha Zander raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “So, was this Klein ‘fascinating‘ or just ‘miserable‘?”


    Adide didn’t miss a beat before she started venting. “Grandpa, don’t listen to a word Lance says. Klein hand–picked him. He was the golden boy! Of course he thought the old man was ‘fascinating.“”


    “That old psycho only had a smile for Lance. The rest of us got the ‘special‘ physical therapy. Even someone as steady and obedient as Craig got tied to frozen pirs as punishment.”


    Zander let out a surprised “Oh?” and looked at Lance. “So you two were actually training together in the Shadow Peaks back


    then?”


    Adide sat up a little straighter, a hint of pride in her voice as she corrected him. “He joined way after I did. Technically, I’m his


    senior.”


    A glint of mischief sparked in Zander’s eyes. “Is that so? And how does he treat you these days? Is he good to you?”


    Adide, who had just been mid–rant about Klein’s “war crimes,” instantly turned bright red. The fiercemander was gone, reced by a girl who couldn’t even look up.


    “He’s… he’s great,” she whispered.


    Zander didn’t push it. He just took a long look at Lance.


    As a veteran of the heart, Zander knew an Alpha’s eyes never lied. Back at the Bloodscar border, he’d spent many sleepless nights worrying. Would a high–ranking Alpha like Lance look down on Adide because of her past? Was this just some cold–blooded political mating?


    Their letters had been all business–war reports and border defense–which only made Zander more anxious. An Alpha with Lance’s power and war record could have had any noble she–wolf in the kingdom. Why her?


    He’d hoped it was true love, but in a world built on power ys, he couldn’t let his guard down. Being naive would only get Adide hurt.


    But tonight, seeing them together, he finally let it <i>go</i>.


    He remembered the look in Alpha Bentley’s eyes when he used to look at his own daughter. The raw protectiveness and the sheer tenderness in Lance’s gaze couldn’t be faked. No one was that good an actor.


    He leaned back in his chair, a peaceful smile on his face, as he listened to Adide tell more stories about Shadow Peaks. Truth be told, he knew exactly what those legendary instructors were like. Before he’d sent her away years ago, he had vetted the Shadow


    <b>11:39 </b>am


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    Peaks down to thest stone.


    An hourter, the night had grown deep and heavy.


    Adide reluctantly let Lance lead her toward the hallway. But as she reached the threshold of the front door, she couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears started falling again.


    She spun around, her voice thick and nasal. “Wait for me… in a couple of days, I’m bringing Cedric to see you!”


    Zander sat in the shadows of the dimmplight. He fought back his own heartache and gave her a small, encouraging wave. “Go on, get home. The wind is picking up, and I need my sleep anyway.”


    When they arrived back at the packhouse, Craig, Paisley, and Avery were waiting for them on the marble steps. One look at Adide’s swollen eyes and they knew she’d cried a river.


    Paisley didn’t bother with fake “it’ll be okay” talk. She walked up, grabbed Adide’s arm, and started dragging her inside.


    “Enough moping. I made a pot of hot spiced berry stew. Let’s go get some sugar in your system and warm up.”


    Lance didn’t mind Paisley “stealing” his mate for a second. He knew that right now, the support and a húg from another she–wolf would do more for Adide than any Alphafort he could provide. Besides, Paisley–a woman who usually only touched swords–had actually cooked. He wasn’t going to stand in the way of that.


    He just said a silent prayer that the stew wasn’t lethal.


    The firece in the living room was roaring. Adide sat with a bowl of dark, slightly suspicious–looking red liquid, mechanically spooning it into her mouth until the bowl was empty.


    “How is it?” Paisley asked, resting her chin on her hand with genuine hope.


    Adide set the bowl down and gave her a deadpan review. “A little heavy on the salt. The ck pepper is a nice touch, though–itpletely killed whatever sugar you put in there.”


    “Too salty? Tasted fine to me,” Paisley shrugged.


    She looked at Adide, her eyes showing a sudden sh of wisdom. “But that’s life, right? It’s like this berry stew. Sour, sweet, bitter, spicy, salty–you’ve got to swallow all of it eventually if you want to say you’ve really lived.”


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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.