Chapter 288 The Wave Pack Lord


    Leslie’s POV


    I pushed Kirby’s wheelchair forward, feeling how the icy edge of his mint pheromones softened at my nearness, touched with a subtle satisfaction.


    Umph. The proud wolf fimally got what he wanted, Asphodel scoffed in my mind. <b>His </b>tail might as well be wagging in the sky.


    Behind us. Leiss trailed along, his eyes dripping with betrayal, like a spurned lover mourning a stic brotherhood.


    The banquet hall swirled <b>with </byered scents–champagne mingled with the pheromones of countless wolves a dense web of politics and power.


    Even seated in a wheelchair, Kirby drew every gaze. His aura as a top Alpha had not dimmed in the slightest.


    We cut through the crowd toward the one they called the Wave Lord. Charles.


    He was a massive Alpha in his forties or fifties, his scent a nauseating mix of fish and cigars that made me frown without thinking.


    “Crimson Moon Pack bro!” Charles bellowed, pping Kirby on the shoulder with a boomingugh. “Long time no see! Heard you had some trouble—I should’ve visited earlier, but things got dyed!


    I couldn’t help the twitch at my lips. A man nearly my father’s age calling Kirby bro?


    Kirby smiled smoothly, his <b>mint </b>pheromones steady and polite. “Nothing serious. Thank you for your concern, Alpha Charles.”


    “Polite as ever! And this is…” Charles’s gaze shifted to me, eyes narrowing in a crude assessment<b>. </b>


    “Leslie,” Kirby introduced easily. “Governor of Rogue Pack’s Western Territory, King Lars’s cherished daughter.”


    I smiled faintly and offered my hand. “Alpha Charles.”


    Recognition flickered across his eyes, and he let out a drawn–out sound of surprise. “Ahhh–so this is your mate! I’d heard rumors. Didn’t expect you two to show up together after that public split?*


    His tone carried the dismissive judgment of someone appraising merchandise.


    <b>9:10 </b>Fri<b>, </b>Sep <b>19 </b>B..


    Chapter 288 The Wave Pack Lord


    My face stayed serene, but cold disdain prickled beneath the surface.


    <b>89 </b>


    +8 Pearls


    Kirby’s smile thinned, his pheromones sharpening with frost. Still, he replied evenly, “One doesn’t need to be mates to be friends<b>.</b>”


    “Of course, of course.” Charles smirked, his words barbed. “But it’s a pity. A sessful Alpha always needs a Luna at his side.”


    Any thought I had of forming ties with him evaporated instantly.


    A crude Alpha like this–and by extension, his entire Pack–was beneath me.


    Just then, Charles raised a hand and called out, “Amelia! Come here!”


    A girl in an borate designer gown hurried over.


    She was pretty, delicate, her scent a faint, cloying floral–Omega sweetness mixed with unease, timid and rehearsed.


    <i>Another </i><i>Omega </i><i>packaged </i><i>neatly </i><i>to </i><i>please </i><i>men</i><i>. Pathetic</i><i>, </i>Asphodel sneered.


    “This is Kirby, the one I told you about,” Charles said with amanding look at his daughter. “The one you’ve been wanting to meet.”


    Amelia lowered her head, cheeks flushed, and dipped into a small bow. “Alpha Kirby… hello.”


    My eyes sharpened, and the pieces fell into ce instantly.


    So this was his game–dangling his daughter as bait.


    Kirby gave her nothing more than a curt nod, not even sparing her a proper nce.


    Send Gifts


    168


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