Chapter 4
4
Adelaide’s POV
I turned to leave, but Luna Rosemary unleashed a wolfish howl behind me.
“Wait!”
I glanced back, no intention of returning.
Rosemary’s face darkened.
She roared to me, “Adelaide, how can you be so foolish? Ulrik’s an Alpha—he’ll have more than one woman. Every pack works this way. You’re still his mate—what more do you want?”
Her words made me sneer inwardly.
A year of compliance had made them think me pliable.
They forgot that I was Alpha Bentley’s daughter.
“Cool your jets,” I said flatly. “Other packs can rot for all I care.”
Rosemary spluttered, coughing into her fist.
Normally, I’d comfort her, but this time, I stayed put.
Sabrina barged in, eyes blazing. “Look at Luna Rosemary! You’re embarrassing us! Frostfang’s already fallen—your family’s gone. What makes you think your Alpha blood means squat now? Ulrik can reject you too!”
I looked at Sabrina, dressed in the pale yellow dress I had made for her last fall.
Now she wore it to question and accuse me—how considerate.
“Take it off first,” I said coolly, “then have your tantrum.”
Sabrina’s face flushed. “I didn’t beg for this dress! I’ll return it!”
“Go ahead,” I said. “And those gems on your neck and wrist? Return those too.” I swept my gaze over the room—only Rosemary kept her poker face.
“Anything else?” I asked. “No? Then I’m leaving.” I strode out, not looking back.
But I didn’t leave immediately.
I stood at the door, my wolf snarling in my mind. “You should’ve let me take over. Let me rip their throats out with my claws.”
I rubbed my temples, responding silently, “We’re in Bloodmoon territory, near Lycan Erasmus’s palace. I don’t want to be a werewolf outlaw.”
Muffled voices drifted from inside.
My ears twitched, and I mentally silenced my wolf.
Sabrina muttered, “I can’t believe Adelaide’s being so stubborn. She even ignores you, Luna Rosemary.”
Rosemary replied coldly, “She’ll bend eventually. She has no choice.”
Oh?
A smile tugged at my lips.
To Bloodmoon, I was a lone wolf with nowhere to go.
Many she-wolves, after mating with other packs, could return to their birth pack. But Frostfang’s extinct—only its land and ruins remain, museum-piece perfect.
Everyone assumed I was stuck here.
The next morning, Beata and I reached Frostfang’s border.
The wards still held.
As I approached, my wolf let out a sharp snarl, then a howl—only Beata heard it, shivering behind me.
Her ears sprouted wolf-tipped fur.
We walked in. The plaza, untended for half a year, was choked with waist-high grass, leaves piled like forgotten memories.
Autumn wind sighed through empty streets.
Stepping back into Frostfang, my heart ached.
Six months ago, I collapsed in tears at the massacre, kneeling beside my grandmother and mother’s lifeless, blood-soaked bodies.
Now, the sacred plaza held a stone altar.
Beata and I stood in silent grief, tears falling.
Running my fingers over my family’s grave markers, I whispered firmly, “Mom, Dad, forgive the path I’ve chosen. I won’t be a Luna for any pack—not when Ulrik’s not the mate the Moon Goddess chose for me. Rest easy. I’ll survive.”
Beata knelt beside me, weeping.
After paying our respects, we headed to the palace.
For two hours under the autumn sun, we waited outside the gates—unnoticed, unmoving.
By noon, the heat was relentless.
Beata fretted, “Lycan Erasmus might not see you. You haven’t eaten since last night. Let me get you something.”
“I’m not hungry,” I said, my resolve unshaken. My mind was set—get the rejection decree and return to Frostfang.
“Maybe we should just leave?” Beata suggested.
I turned, my voice cold. “Beata, if you ever utter such spineless words again, I’ll leave you behind.”