The icy river water cut into her wounds like a thousand tiny knives.
Deep in her mind, Charlotte ran a high-speed simulation of the current's trajectory, calculating the exact landing point that offered the best odds of survival.
Half an hour later, she dragged herself onto a jagged pile of rocks downstream. Her face was bloodless, and the edges of her wound had turned a sickly, translucent white from the water.
[Warning! Host blood loss has reached 30%. Stamina critical. Wolfhound units are only 800 meters away.]
The system's voice sounded distorted, flickering in her mind like a dying radio.
Charlotte gritted her teeth, crawling through the thick mire. The wolf-guards would be sweeping the riverbanks any second; she could almost hear the splash of their boots in the mud.
She had to reach the one place that could save her life before the perimeter closed in: the private estate of the Brown Wolf King, Edric.
In the original story, Edric was the ultimate pragmatist—a man driven purely by profit. He led a clan of Betas—an unlikely power base—but his silver tongue and political maneuvering had turned him into a titan of the human world.
He protected werewolves living among humans, and even the most aggressive Alpha Kings thought twice before crossing him.
To throw the trackers off her scent, Charlotte scooped up handfuls of sludge and pungent weeds, mixing them with her own blood and smearing the mess over her body.
It was a desperate survival tactic to scramble her biological signature, but it left her looking like a wraith crawled straight out of hell.
"She's close! I can smell the blood!" a search officer's voice echoed in the distance.
Charlotte held her breath, pressing herself into the shadows of a massive tree like a corpse. he moved with a fraction of her usual speed, a mere shadow of herself.
She weaving a few simple tripwire traps from thorny vines. The moment the two lead guards blundered into them, Charlotte exploded from the shadows.
She opened one guard's throat with surgical precision using her dagger, then used the momentum to roll backward and vanish into the underbrush.
"Damn it! She's still taking people out!"
The world began to blur as her strength failed. Dragging her mangled body, she avoided every main road and clawed her way through the brambles of the back hills, infiltrating the manor marked as a "Restricted Zone."
Inside the estate, the manicured lawns and the warm glow of distant chandeliers stood in jarring contrast to a woman standing in the shadows, caked in mud and drenched in blood.
Following her memories, she slipped into a brightly lit second-floor study.
A man sat behind the mahogany desk, swirling a glass of cabernet with practiced elegance.
He didn't look up from his ledgers, the lamplight catching the glint of his gold-rimmed spectacles.
In his tailored black suit, he looked less like a werewolf and more like a shark in a boardroom—calculating, cold, and entirely too calm.
[Ding! New Capture Target unlocked—Edric Brownhart!]
Edric seemed to sense something. He tilted his head, only to find himself staring down a woman covered in gore, her eyes fiercer than a lone wolf's.
Her dagger was pressed firmly against his throat. Her voice was raspy, but it carried a chilling authority: "We can talk business, or I can open your windpipe. Your call."
Edric's hand stiffened for a fraction of a second, but he didn't panic like a normal human.
Instead, his long fingers gently set down the wine glass. His gaze swept over Charlotte's face—even under the filth and blood, her beauty was striking.
"Miss Charlotte," Edric's voice was like a low cello—elegant, yet cold.
"Breaking into the home of a high-ranking human official while brandishing a deadly weapon... don't you think that's a bit of a bloody way to start a negotiation?"
"Doesn't matter how I got in, as long as you like what I'm selling." Charlotte said, feeling her strength ebb away. She tightened her grip on the knife.
"The Brown Wolf Clan plays the neutral card, but you've been smuggling prohibited wolf-relics through international trade to make a fortune, all while secretly developing inhibitors specifically designed for Alphas. "
"I've set those ledgers on a dead-man's switch. I don't walk out of here, the cloud dumps them onto every news desk in the country."
A flicker of stillness crossed Edric's face. His smooth, practiced smile vanished instantly. That was his deepest secret—how did this woman know?
"You're bluffing," Edric said icily, his left hand inching toward the handgun hidden in his desk drawer.
"Go ahead and push your luck." Charlotte smirked, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "I know you want to break free from the Black and White Wolf Clans. So, why not partner with me?"
A flash of genuine shock crossed Edric's face, quickly replaced by intrigued amusement. "Charlotte, the traitor of the White Wolves. You think I'd risk offending the soon-to-be-crowned Valeria for a dead woman walking?"
A dry, mirthless sound escaped her throat. Even on the brink of collapse, her sheer presence was suffocating.
"I know the Brown Wolves don't have the muscle to take the White Wolves head-on. But you're a smart man, Edric."
"With Valeria's ambition—she was willing to kill the King for the throne. "
"Once she wears the crown, she won't tolerate a wild card like you on her leash. You'll be her first cleanup job."
"Her search party is right outside. Turn me in, and you'll spend the rest of your life as Valeria's lapdog. Keep me, and I'll make you the future Chancellor of the White Wolf Clan."
Edric went silent. Just then, a loud, arrogant pounding echoed from the manor's front door, followed by the wail of sirens.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Mr. Brownhart! White Wolf guards are tracking a high-profile fugitive, Charlotte, to this location. Open up for inspection immediately!"
Dizzy from blood loss, Charlotte swayed, and the dagger nearly slipped from her hand. Edric moved like a cat, rising and catching her by the wrist.
They were inches apart. He could smell the mixture of mud, cold sweat, and the faint scent of cedarwood beneath the metallic tang of blood.
It was the scent of a powerful Alpha—lethal and intoxicating, even in her weakened state.
"If I hand you over, I get Valeria's trust. If I keep you, I'm at war with the entire clan," Edric whispered, his breath warm against her ear as he pressed her into the shadows behind a large bookcase.
Exhausted as she was, Charlotte reached up and grabbed his tie, yanking him closer.
Her breath was soft as silk, "Edric, if you say no, I promise your precious little secrets will be buried right alongside me."
Edric looked into her eyes—eyes that shone like stars even in the depths of despair. A spark of long-dormant ambition caught fire in his chest.
"I have to admit, you're a hell of a salesman," Edric murmured, his fingers brushing over her wound, making her shiver. "I hope your value is worth the risk I'm taking."
The study door was kicked open. A search officer and a squad of soldiers stormed in, weapons drawn.
The lead tracker demanded, "Lord Brownhart, a witness saw the fugitive enter your grounds."
"You want to search?" Edric didn't even look up from his paperwork, his tone cutting like dry ice.
"Go get a warrant from the Four-Clan Council. Since when did White Wolf lackeys get the right to bark in my house?"
Meanwhile, hidden beneath the massive mahogany desk, Charlotte curled in the shadows.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she clamped one hand around Edric's ankle—the final move in a game of life and death.