The bitter scent of medicinal herbs clashed with the heavy, expensive notes of cedarwood in the dimly lit safe room, creating a stifling tension.
"You've lost your mind." Rowan slammed his medical tray onto the table with a sharp clatter.
His slate-gray eyes were locked on Charlotte, his normally mocking mouth now set in a thin, hard line.
"Do you have any idea what the Black Wolf territory is? It's a goddamn meat grinder!"
"Ragnar's gone off the deep end—his bloodlust is peaking. Anything that so much as breathes in his direction gets torn to shreds!"
Edric sat on a nearby leather sofa, idly flicking a heavy lighter. The flame danced in the reflection of his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Charlotte, stay here. Valeria's reach hasn't extended to my doorstep yet. I can keep you safe."
"Don't worry about the fallout—Rowan and I have you covered."
Charlotte cinched her black trench coat tight. She looked at them both, her gaze unwavering. "Vengeance isn't forged in a sanctuary. "
"Valeria has already made her move on the Black Wolves for a political marriage. Once they shake hands, your neutrality won't be worth a damn."
She stepped up to Rowan. He instinctively tried to back away, but she rooted him to the spot with her commanding aura.
"Rowan, I know you care." Charlotte leaned in, her fingertips ghosting over the back of his hand.
"But if I don't go, I'll never take back what's mine. Do you really want to see a pathetic usurper ruling the White Wolves?"
Rowan gritted his teeth. Finally, he reached into the bottom of his medkit and pulled out a vial glowing with an eerie blue fluorescence.
He shoved it into her hand with a scowl. "It's something I cooked up on the side. I call it 'The Deceiver.' Drink it, and your scent will vanish for three hours. Not even the sharpest Black Wolf tracker will pick up your trail."
" If you kick the bucket, leave my name out of it. I've got a reputation to protect, and 'dead patient' isn't a good look for me."
Charlotte took the vial, then suddenly reached out and cupped the back of his neck. Before Rowan could react, she brushed her lips against his earlobe in a touch as light as a feather.
"Rowan... the medicine is bitter, but you... you've got a soft spot, don't you?" Her breath was warm against his skin.
The sharp-tongued doctor turned red to the tips of his ears, his entire body locking up in a daze.
She turned to Edric and pressed a tiny black microchip into his palm. "It's a physical enhancement protocol I coded myself. "
"As the Brown Wolf King, you know exactly what this is worth. By the time I return with Ragnar's army, I expect your supply chain to cover every inch of this island."
Edric's fingers tightened around the chip. A flash of dark fervor and suppressed longing crossed his face.
"If you don't come back, I'll butcher the Black Wolves myself and bury them with you."
"I never make a bad investment." Charlotte left them with a predatory smirk and vanished into the manor's secret passage.
[Ding! Edric favorability +25%, Romance Progress: 60%!] [Ding! Rowan favorability +10%, Romance Progress: 35%!]
Midnight in the border forest. The air smelled of rotting leaves and the cold scent of death.
Charlotte blurred through the thickets. Just as she was about to cross into the heart of the Black Wolf territory, the system's alarm shrieked in her mind.
[Warning! 'The Deceiver' has failed prematurely due to electromagnetic interference! Scent masking countdown: 3, 2, 1...]
At that exact moment, a soul-shaking howl erupted from the depths of the forest.
A shadow slammed into her—a cyclone of rage, iron, and musk, slammed into her and pinned her to the ground!
The air was knocked right out of her lungs.
Charlotte's back hit a gnarled tree trunk with a sickening thud. A massive, calloused hand clamped around her throat like a vice.
His features were a lethal blend of rugged and refined. His dark hair was wild, unkempt.
Most terrifying were his eyes—blood-red vertical slits, devoid of reason, consumed by the urge to destroy.
[Ding! New romance target unlocked—Ragnar Blackclaw!]
"White Wolf... traitor." Ragnar's voice was a guttural rasp, like sandpaper on stone.
His scorching breath fanned across her face. "You've got a death wish, Little Wolf?"
His claws bit into the skin of her neck, beads of blood trickling onto the grass.
Any other woman in her position would have collapsed in terror, but Charlotte only stared back at him.
Her gaze was colder than the mountain snow, radiating pure, unadulterated defiance.
"Your hand is shaking, Ragnar." Even with her airway constricted, her voice carried a mocking edge.
Ragnar roared—a raw, defensive sound. As he moved to crush her throat, Charlotte's fingers struck like a phantom, she struck a nerve ending with surgical precision.
"Ugh!" Ragnar felt half his body go numb. The energy overload from his "Berserker Syndrome" was already tearing him apart from the inside; that single blow turned his internal overload into a white-hot agony.
Charlotte seized the opening. With a fluid, practiced motion, she twisted out of his grip and pinned him against the tree, her knee driving hard into his groin to lock him down.
"You think I'm playing with you, Ragnar?" Charlotte's voice cut through his frenzy like a scalpel.
"Look at you. Your eyes are all pupil, your pulse is redlining, and those crystals? You're coming apart at the seams. "
"In three months, you'll be nothing but a mindless beast, and your treacherous subordinates will tear you apart for scraps!"
Ragnar's red pupils shrank. The violent aura around him flickered for a heartbeat.
"How could you possibly know..." Ragnar roared again, but this time, the sound was tinged with a desperate, underlying terror.
The energy in his body was like molten lava about to erupt; his muscles began to bulge irregularly, and his bones let out a stomach-turning creak.
Charlotte's eyes burned with a fierce light. "Because I'm the only one who can stabilize your core."
Ragnar's sanity finally snapped. He let out a piteous, mournful howl—the sound of a man about to be lost to the beast forever.
His fur began to grow wildly, and his claws gouged deep furrows into the earth.
Right on the edge of his total collapse, Charlotte didn't run.
Instead, she did something that would have shocked any witness to the core—she opened her arms, dropped all her defenses, and hauled the thrashing beast into her arms.