Chapter 141

141
Third Person’s POV
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Lance learned from Caldwell that after Adelaide dissolved her mate bond, the rumors spread were largely Madison’s doing.
Though it was a dissolved bond, Madison framed it as Adelaide being abandoned, leading many powerful packs‘ Lunas to disdain her.
Otherwise, Rosemary couldn’t have caused such a stir.
Now, Madison’s birthday invite to Adelaide likely harbored ill intent.
While Adelaide shouldn’t attend, Lance respects her choice if she decides to go.
After pondering, Lance said, “Visit the Frostfang Pack and ask Miss Davidson if she’ll attend.”
Beta Ralph replied, “Yes, I’ll go now.”
With that, he left.
Adelaide’s POV
When Madison’s invitation arrived at the Frostfang Pack, I was polishing my father’s wolf–head dagger.
I just knew her birthday was tomorrow. The invite arrived today, clearly not giving me time to prep a gift. I had to pick something from the pack’s storeroom.
The gold–embossed wolf claw sigil on the parchment gleamed coldly, contrasting sharply with the frost wolf totem on the blade.
Omega Ivy looked worried. “Madison has always been hostile to the Frostfang Pack. When Luna Airelle was alive, Madison never invited her to her parties. This sudden invitation must be a setup.”
I set the invite aside. “Probably.”
I was well–aware of the tensions between my family and Madison.
After my father and brothers died in battle, when I returned from the Shadow Peaks training the following year, Madison sent a silver wolf–head statue.
The base was inscribed with the ancient wolf–script words “Eternal Night Lone Wolf–a veiled jibe at the Davidson family’s womenfolk as wolves trapped in eternal night.
Unable to pursue glory like male warriors, they would ultimately perish alone with their pack’s decline.
She likely sent this invite because I’d returned with merits and am the Frostfang Alpha, aiming to disrupt my Second Chance.
She hoped I’d embarrass myself at her party, ruining my engagement to Lance. In her eyes, the Frostfang
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Alpha lineage should’ve perished with my brothers.
Beata advised, “Alpha Adelaide, let’s not go.”
I sat down firmly. “We’re going.”
“Why court humiliation?” Beata stamped her foot in frustration. “Haven’t you suffered enough?”
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Newer Omegas, unaware of my feud with Madison, joined in persuading me. “Alpha Adelaide, don’t go. The gifts are too expensive.”
I waved them off. “We must face it eventually. Can’t hide in the pack forever. Many Lunas visited recently. If they target me at Madison’s party, I’ll see their true colors and avoid them in the future–it’s a mirror held up to their hypocrisy.”
Beata’s wolf ears relaxed slightly, anxiety casing from her pheromones. “If you insist, don’t take their words to heart. They’re like pups‘ idle chatter.”
“Their barks can’t hurt me,” I said, viewing their gossip as fleeting.
Beta Valentin and the other Omegas didn’t try to dissuade me.
Valentin, his silver–tipped ears trembling in the shadows, sighed, “You’re right. The Blackthorn Pack alliance requires you to assert authority in these powerful packs.”
Omega Ivy volunteered to prepare gifts. The vault’s treasures glinted under moonstone lights.
I hesitated over my mother’s wolf–head necklace and my sister–in–law’s moonstone earrings–too precious.
None seemed right.
Then I remembered Craig’s “waste.”
Craig loved oil painting, discarding works he deemed imperfect. I’d secretly stored some unique- brushstroke pieces in the storeroom.
I selected .
The study housed many of Craig’s masterpieces, which I wouldn’t dare give away.
This discarded still–life would suit Madison.
Opening the frame, the vibrant mountain ash leaped out–delicate gradients in the pale yellow petals, even the calyx fuzz was clear.
Craig labeled it “waste” because a petal in the left bouquet, meant to droop, curved upward.
He always said unrealistic strokes robbed a painting of its soul.
But I loved that “mistaken” petal. It added life to the piece.
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Omega Ivy frowned at the canvas. “Such fine brushwork, petals like they’ll bloom–what a waste to give
Madison.”
“The study’s floral collection overflows,” I said, flipping through the casel. “Craig adores mountain ash. I’ll send a painting to Lycan Erasmus too.”
Erasmus admired Craig’s realism. Though he owned many portraits, he lacked florals – a gap I could fill with these “ waste ” paintings.
Using Craig’s art as an olive branch to the royal family also eased my lingering unease from past conversations.