Inside the council chamber of the White Wolf Palace, the lights blazed, but the air was thick with a suffocating tension.
Valeria sat at the head of the table, her regal attire unable to mask the frantic twitch in her brow.
"Edric, last time I checked, the internal affairs of the White Wolf Clan were none of the Brown Wolves' business," Valeria said, struggling to maintain her icy poise. But her knuckles were white, betraying her growing anxiety.
Edric gave his gold-rimmed glasses an elegant push. His tone was smooth, yet his lips curled into a cold, predatory smirk. "You've got it all wrong, Miss Valeria. As the Brown Wolf King and a member of the Human Parliament, it's my job to ensure any transfer of power is strictly by the book."
"Ancient wolf lore is clear: without the Royal Signet's recognition, you're just a pretender. If you go through with this coronation, the Brown Wolves and the Human Parliament will find it very hard to recognize your legitimacy. When the people panic and your foreign trade lines are cut off... Can you really pay the price for that disaster?"
Edric toyed with the signet on his own ring finger, his smile never reaching his eyes.
"Edric's right," Rowan added, meticulously wiping a razor-sharp scalpel with a cloth. His trademark snark was in full swing. "A White Wolf King without the ring is like a butcher without a medical license—not only is it illegitimate, it's a recipe for a bloody mess."
Ragnar didn't bother with pleasantries. His violent dark eyes flared with unshielded contempt. "My Black Wolf riders don't take orders from a hollow figurehead with no credentials."
Under the collective gaze of the three kings, sweat began to soak through Valeria's dress. As soon as the meeting adjourned, she retreated to the back hall, her expression dark, to find Authur waiting for her.
"I'll pay any price, just make that damn ring work!" Valeria hissed, her face was etched with desperation.
Authur's eyes darkened with calculation. He lowered his voice. "There is only one way. You need the blood of the true heir—Charlotte. Smear it on the inside of the band and recite the ancient incantation. Even if the ring hasn't formally accepted you, it will resonate with a holy light. Conveniently enough, the hospital's blood bank still has the samples she submitted when she was first recruited."
Valeria's eyes flashed with manic joy. She immediately dispatched her cronies to fetch the sample. Back in the secret chamber, her hands trembled as she watched the crimson liquid bead and roll.
HUMMM—!
Suddenly, a brilliant, divine silver light flooded the room. The ring let out a soft chime, as if cheering for the return of its master.
Valeria stared at it, mesmerized. She had no idea that Charlotte, perched in the ventilation shaft above, was watching her "miracle" with a cold, mocking laugh.
It was all pre-set code in the sensor. The sensor, programmed to recognize Authur's voice, triggered the light show and beamed the data back to Charlotte's terminal.
"It worked... I am the chosen one!" Valeria gasped, her eyes burning with fanaticism. "Hand over the incantation!"
Authur's smile vanished, replaced by the cunning of an old fox. "You'll get the words on coronation day—only after you publicly pardon Charlotte's loyalists and return control of my territories to me."
"After all, a man's got to have an insurance policy."
Valeria was fuming, but looking at the "obedient" ring, her last shred of doubt evaporated. She immediately issued a general broadcast to the island: "The Royal Signet has been recovered. The coronation proceeds as scheduled."
Hiding in the shadows, Charlotte smirked as she closed the notification. The gears of her plan were finally grinding into place.
Even though the ring had helped Valeria regain some trust with the clan, her marriage schemes were still on the table. She couldn't hide her vitriol for Charlotte—especially when she saw the three kings constantly hovering around her "shadow guard."
Late that night, in Ragnar's private quarters.
Dressed in a sheer silk nightgown that left nothing to the imagination, Valeria knocked on his door, leaning into her feigned tipsiness. The moonlight caught every curve of her body. She dialed up her rose-scented pheromones; under normal circumstances, no Alpha could have resisted the lure.
"Ragnar... I was hoping we could 'discuss' the future of our border defenses in more detail," she murmured, her breath sweet with wine. She let her long legs peek through the silk as she reached out to touch his broad shoulder.
"Get out." Ragnar's eyes were full of disgust. The sheer weight of his Alpha pressure turned Valeria's face pale in an instant.
"Why so cold?" Valeria bit her lip, leaning her soft body toward him. "I can give you ten times what that pathetic servant can. The whole White Wolf Clan—they'll be yours."
Ragnar stood up abruptly. His explosive Alpha pheromones hit like a sledgehammer, knocking Valeria back several steps.
"You think you're in her league?" Ragnar sneered. He turned his head toward the shadows on the balcony. "How much longer are you going to watch? Your man is being harassed by some stray, and you're just standing there playing it cool."
Charlotte stepped slowly out of the darkness. Despite her plain mask, her sheer presence completely eclipsed the overdressed Valeria.
She idly tossed a black USB drive in the air, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was just calculating how long it would take for something like her to make you puke."
"You—you filthy slave!" Valeria shrieked, lunging at Charlotte with her claws out.
SLAP!
A sharp crack echoed through the room. Charlotte delivered a crisp backhand that sent Valeria reeling onto the daybed.
Before she could recover, Ragnar stepped forward. He grabbed Charlotte with a rough, possessive passion and—right in front of Valeria—claimed her lips in a deep, aggressive kiss that tasted of ice and fire.
"Did you catch that?" Ragnar let go of a flushed Charlotte and looked down at a distorted, trembling Valeria. "This is my Luna. You aren't even fit to scrape the mud off her boots."
Valeria clutched her bruised cheek, her jealousy spiraled into a homicidal rage. She didn't recognize the "shadow," but she had officially marked her for death.
The moment Valeria scrambled out of the room, Charlotte's terminal chirped with an urgent alert: [Magnus has mobilized the Execution Squad. Target: The Midday Banquet.]