Chapter <i>75 </i>The Taste of Victory


    Leslie’s POV


    <b>25 </b>


    Finished


    The day after the Silvermoon Salon incident, I received good news from my eldest brother, Thorbane.


    After being publicly exposed for his scandal with Rowan–and for conspiring with outside forces to undermine my rule–Elder Drax hadpletely fallen from power.


    All of his shares and assets within the Rogue Pack were quietly and effortlessly acquired by my brother–at a generous “friendship price,” no less.


    And the final beneficiary of those holdings was me–Leslie of the Rogue Pack.


    “Leslie,” my brother chuckled through themunicator, “we’ve finally swept out that old fox. Westview is all yours now.”


    “Thank you,” I said sincerely.


    “No need for that between us,” he replied fondly. “By the way, I heard that Frost Pack kid has been doting on you quite a bittely?”


    I let out a resignedugh. “Carl told you?”


    “That troublemaker is practically begging to throw you the grandest wedding in the entire continent,” heughed. “But seriously, Leslie—Eric mighte off a bit flippant, but he’s capable, shrewd, and–most importantly–genuinely devoted to you. You might want to… at least consider it.”


    “We’ll see.” I ended the call, but something stirred faintly in my chest.


    I walked over to the floor–to–ceiling windows in my office and looked out over the vast stretch ofnd that now belonged to me. The sun was warm. The sky was clear,


    Rowan and Drax–two ticking time bombs that had lingered at my side–had finally been neutralized for good.


    And the “Ancestor Fang,” the Crimson Moon Pack’s sacred relic, now sat casually above my firece as nothing more than a trophy.


    Kirby–the man I once loved to the point of self–destruction, and hated down to my marrow- could now do nothing but watch helplessly as I toyed with his Pack’s prized possession.


    At longst, I had seized full control of my fate.


    Sep


    Chapter 75 The Taste of Victory


    25


    Finished


    And the taste of victory… was sweet.


    Kirby’s POV


    Humiliation.


    Rage.


    Helplessness.


    Jealousy.


    For the past few days, I’ve lived in a kind of hell–burned over and over again by those four feelings without a moment’s relief.


    I watched as Leslie obliterated every voice of dissent within her territory with thunderous precision.


    I watched as Eric–like some smug brat–stood beside her, unting his strength and adoration without restraint.


    I watched as the continent’s entire Packwork painted them as some destined power couple, on the brink of sealing a lifelong bond.


    And me? I could do nothing.


    I didn’t even have the right to appear before her.


    “Alpha…” My chief aide, Mch, stepped in carefully, his faceced with sympathy. “Maybe… you should rest.”


    I ignored him and knocked back thest of the liquor in my ss.


    Then I picked up my terminal and opened Leslie’s Moonbook profile–again.


    The post about the “unknown beast fang” was still pinned to the top.


    The bidding had already skyrocketed to an astronomical figure,


    But the most recent–and most gut–wrenchingment came from Eric.


    He hadn’t ced a bid. Instead, using his verified Frost Pack ount, he’d left one line beneath her post:


    <i>“</i><i>Darling</i><i>, </i><i>don’t </i><i>sell </i><i>it</i>. <i>If </i><i>you </i><i>like </i><i>it</i><i>, </i>I’ll have <i>them </i>dig up <i>the </i><i>beast’s </i><i>entire </i><i>skeleton </i>and <i>ship </i><i>it </i><i>to </i><i>you</i>.<i>” </i>


    I stared at thement—so smug, so deliberately provocative—and before I knew it, my hand


    clenched and shattered the screen in my grip.


    What a disgrace.