Chapter 183

Elena’s POV

Three days had passed since Bryson’s wedding. Tabloids, news articles, and social media were still buzzing with news of that event, people continuously feasting on photos of Glenda being dragged out of the hall in her muddy, cheap wedding dress and with a look of breakdown.

Sad to say, but the public was more than satisfied to see her downfall. She was, after all, a woman who tried to fly too high beyond her capability with brutal means.

With the news reaching every nook of the kingdom, everyone branded her life as finished, especially after Bryson’s and Elara’s pack was banned. With Bryson rejecting her and two huge packs banning her, she was socially obliterated.

Justice had been served. She has started to sow the fruit of her greed.

And now, she’s gone, out of the still. But still, I couldn’t sleep.

I sat in the private study of the palace wing for Deacon, staring out at the moonlit gardens. The silence of the palace felt heavy, oppressive rather than peaceful. While Zara and even Deacon seemed to think the threat was neutralised, a nagging instinct clawed at the back of my mind. I knew Glenda. I knew that specific brand of narcissism. She wasn’t the type to crawl into a hole and die of shame.

She was the type to burn the world down to keep herself warm. It was proven when she sacrificed my entire clan’s life for her glory.

“You’re brooding again,” Deacon’s voice broke the silence.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway, still dressed in his office attire, his tie loosened. He looked tired but content, the stress of the wedding having mainly evaporated.

“I’m not,” I lied, setting my hot chocolate down. “I’m just… thinking. It’s too quiet, Deacon. Glenda hasn’t been seen since the guards threw her past the border. No credit card usage, no hotel check–ins. She just vanished.”

Deacon walked over, leaning against the heavy oak desk. “She’s likely hiding in shame, Elena. Or she’s left the territory entirely. She has no resources left.”

“Desperation is a resource,” I countered softly. “And she has plenty of that.”

Before Deacon could respond, a sharp knock echoed on the study door. It was late for visitors. We exchanged a look–the kind that communicated a shared alertness.

“Come in,” Deacon commanded.

1

The door opened, revealing Sir Kaelen, the head of the Royal Investigation Unit. He didn’t look happy. He held a thick folder in his hand, his expression grim.

“Your Highness,” Kaelen bowed curtly. “Forgive the intrusion at this hour, but new evidence has come to light regarding the poisoning of the Alpha heir of Ironclaw Pack, Rafael.”

My heart hammered against my ribs at the name of my nephew. I stood up instantly. “You found something?”

Kaelen stepped forward, placing the folder on the desk and sliding it open. Inside were grainy surveillance photos and a bank

statement.

“We finally cracked the encryption on the burner phone we found among the things confiscated from Glenda’s room after she left,” Kaelen explained, pointing to a photo of a hooded figure entering a run–down shop. “We traced a series of messages to a black–market in the lower Districts, a place known for dealing in banned goods, especially illegal drugs.”

I leaned in, studying the photo. The figure was wearing a cloak, but the shoes…. Those gaudy, red–bottomed designer heels were

unmistakable.

Chpter 181

+25 Bonus

“She bought ‘Nightshade extract‘,” Kaelen continued, his voice grave. “It’s a slow–acting neurotoxin. The chemical signature. matches the toxin we found in Rafael’s blood perfectly. We also found a transaction record. She sold a diamond necklace, one gifted to her by Alpha Bryson two years ago, to pay for it.”

The room seemed to cool. Proof. We finally had undeniable, physical proof. It wasn’t just a rivalry anymore; it wasn’t just petty sabotage.

“She tried to kill a child,” Deacon said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. The air around him began to vibrate with the sheer force of his aura. “She tried to murder a child under my protection to frame my mate.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Kaelen confirmed. “This moves beyond pack law. This is a crime against the Crown.”

Deacon didn’t hesitate. He looked at Kaelen with eyes of molten gold. “Issue the warrant. Immediate arrest. The charge is attempted assassination of a Royal Ward and High Treason.”

“It’s already being drawn up, Your Highness,” Kaelen nodded. “But there is a complication.”

“What complication?” I asked, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

“We sent a retrieval team to the motel on the outskirts of the city where she was last spotted after the wedding,” Kaelen said, pulling out a second report. “The room was empty. But we found signs of a struggle. Not with others, but… erratic behaviour. Writing on the walls. Shredded clothes.”

“Where is she?” Deacon demanded.

“She’s gone underground,” Kaelen admitted. “She’s not using her identity anymore. Our trackers suggest she’s moved into the Slums–the rogue territories beneath the city infrastructure. It’s a maze down there, Sire. If she’s hiding with the rogues, she could be anywhere.”

I sank back into my chair, the “bad feeling” I’d had all evening crystallising into a terrifying reality. Glenda wasn’t just a disgraced ex–mistress anymore. She was a fugitive. A fugitive with nothing left to lose, hiding in the darkest corners of our world, likely plotting her final act of revenge.

“Find her,” Deacon growled, his command shaking the glass of water on the desk. “Turn the Slums upside down if you have to. Mobilise the Royal Guard. Put a bounty on her head. I want her found before she decides to resurface.”

“At once, Prince Deacon.” Kaelen bowed and exited swiftly, the folder leaving a heavy weight in his wake..

Deacon turned to me, his anger shifting into protective concern. He pulled me out of the chair and into his arms, holding me tight. “She won’t get near you, Elena. Or Rafael. I promise you.”

I buried my face in his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “She’s cornered, Deacon. A cornered animal is the most dangerous kind. She knows it’s over. She knows there’s a warrant. She’s not running to escape anymore.”

“Then what is she doing?”

I looked up at him, my eyes hard. “She’s preparing for war.”

The hunt had begun. For all we knew, Glenda would just be around, and closer than we think, watching and planning, waiting for the moment we blinked. And this time, she wouldn’t be coming with a muddy dress and shouting; she would be coming with

a blade.

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Sara Lili

Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.