A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Third Person’s POV

The soldiers were werewolves from the Western Tribes.

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Ulrik had this gut feeling that the Western Tribes‘ wolves were out to get Velda. It probably had something to do with the shady treaty–signing at Bloodscar Border.

He said he believed it, but deep down, he still had doubts.

“Velda, come back!” Ulrik shouted, trying to chase after her.

But he was stuck in the heat of battle, hacking and slashing, with no chance to even glance at Velda again.

Velda heard Ulrik’s call but kept pushing forward.

She trusted her instincts. 2

If these wolves were running, there had to be a reason. Maybe they were noble werewolves from the Western Tribes out for some rite of passage.

If she caught them, she could use the same tactic that had forced Solanke to sign the treaty before.

To get ahead in this war, Velda knew brute force alone wouldn’t cut it.

Even if she slaughtered a thousand enemies, her name wouldn’t make it into Lance’s report.

She needed a smarter play.

“Keep chasing them. Something’s off,” Velda growled as she ran.

Among the Western Tribes‘ wolves, a few in golden armor caught her eye.

They looked just like the wolf she’d captured at Bloodscar Border.

That wolf wasn’t ordinary–it had to be royalty from the Western Tribes. And it was because of him that Solanke had signed the treaty.

With such a prize within reach, there was no way Velda was letting go.

Lance and Adelaide spotted Velda’s chase.

They locked eyes in the fray.

Adelaide saw a flash of relief in Lance’s gaze before he bolted through the crowded battlefield toward the

rear.

As the highest–ranking wolf in the army, Lance should’ve been at the rear strategizing.

But Adelaide thought it was odd that Lance had been fighting so bravely just now, yet went back so soon after Velda was lured away.

Adelaide didn’t dwell on it. She was too busy fighting.

Half an hour later, Adelaide and her team were drenched in enemy blood.

The waves of enemies were relentless, and she’d picked up a few injuries.

The Ironthorn soldiers formed a protective ring around her, but she waved them off–she needed no shield.

Seeing her fight so hard, the other wolves fought with renewed vigor.

Everyone knew this was the final battle. They had to give it their all.

Victory meant reclaiming the southern border.

On the Dragon Ash Wolf Kingdom’s side, fear crept onto the warriors‘ faces.

They’d been exiled from their homeland for years, and Lycan Erasmus had never given up on the southern border.

After so many exhausting battles, their spirits were worn thin.

Solanke and Victor still hadn’t joined the fight. They stood high above the battlefield, watching the carnage below.

Corpses littered the ground, and blood stained the city almost red.

Most of the fallen were from the Western Tribes and Dragon Ash.

Victor knew it was only a matter of time before they abandoned the southern border.

When he’d entered Darkclaw Town, he’d seen through the Western Tribes‘ so–called “reinforce.” They weren’t here to fight–they were here to kill Velda.

They had no will to win and no intention of sharing the southern border with Dragon Ash Kingdom. They were here to vent their rage.

Victor was furious.

If not for the Western Tribes‘ interference, they might have withdrawn earlier, sparing more lives.

He said coldly to Solanke, “If you’re here to vent anger, why not massacre the city?”

He likely knew why Solanke was angry.

He’d learned that a village within the Western Tribes‘ territory had been massacred during the Bloodscar Border battle.

Solanke’s eyes blazed with fury. “War has already brought ruin and displacement to innocent wolves. If I were to massacre the city, even enemy civilians, what would separate me from a beast?”

Victor looked at the soldiers falling one by one and shuddered.

There was nothing he could do to alter their tactics now.

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“I didn’t expect to hear that from you.” Victor’s face was red from the cold, his speech slightly slurred. “Your people were slaughtered, yet you show mercy to the enemy’s citizens. How pathetic. noveldrama

“A true commander despises war,” Solanke said.

Snowflakes began to fall. “The battle’s outcome is decided. If you don’t want more losses, retreat,” Solanke said.

Victor asked, “Have you achieved your goal?”

A cruel smile tugged at Solanke’s lips. He looked at the panting messenger rushing toward them.

“Kill her? No.” Solanke said.

Death was too easy for Velda.

The wolf, covered in dark red blood but grinning triumphantly, reported, “We’ve captured eighteen and killed the rest.”

Solanke slowly reached out and caught a snowflake.

It melted in his palm.

Then, as if performing a ritual, he closed his eyes for a moment, opened them sharply, and declared, “All Western Tribes‘ werewolves, withdraw from Darkclaw Town.”

Chapter 75