A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Third Person’s POV

“Sure!”

Lycan Erasmus didn’t say much more. Such a trivial matter didn’t dampen his good mood.

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“Fabian, arrange door–to–door notifications. No need to visit the Stokes family; they must already know. Inform everyone else. After they return to the capital to receive their awards, they can go home to reunite.”

“Yes, sir!” Fabian accepted the order and left.

Cyrus also took his leave. He withheld Tad’s first report from Lycan Erasmus, choosing to suppress it.

While the report appeared to be a situation update, it subtly implied accusations.

Even if it reached Lycan Erasmus, it wouldn’t significantly impact Alpha Lance. However, some things could cause trouble if they resurfaced later.

Tad was unaware of the rescue mission because Alpha Lance hadn’t informed him–a decision made out of caution and secrecy.

But if Lycan Erasmus later recalled and misinterpreted Alpha Lance’s silence as distrust toward Tad, especially after the Royal Constabulary’s command was revoked, it could lead to unnecessary complications.

Alpha Lance didn’t trust Tade. Was it because Lycan Erasm took back the command of his royal legion and he felt upset about it?

To avoid this, it was better that Lycan Erasmus never saw the report.

For Minister Garrett, Cyrus planned to deliver the news himself–just a short walk from the Royal Elder Council’s office.

Upon seeing Cyrus at the Department of Culture, Garrett quickly led his staff out to greet him.

Cyrus smiled and said, “Carry on with your work. I just need a few minutes of Garrett’s time. It’s personal, not work–related.”

Garrett was puzzled–Cyrus from the Royal Elder Council was visiting him for a personal matter?

Despite his confusion, Garrett respectfully invited Cyrus into the lounge and offered coffee.

“What can I do for you?” Garrett asked.

“I’m here to congratulate you,” Cyrus said, putting down his coffee cup with a smile.

Though this news should have been shared promptly, the surprise was so great that it was better to break it gently to avoid overwhelming/Garrett with joy.

“Congratulate me?” Garrett was even more puzzled–having reached his career peak as the Minister of Culture, what was there to celebrate?

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“On a joy of rediscovery,” Cyrus said.

“Rediscovery? I haven’t lost anything recently,” Garrett replied.

“Lycan Erasmus has ordered the Department of Culture to prepare a welcome for the heroes from the Southern Border. Among them are two heroes from your Rog family.”

Garrett felt a heavy blow to his heart, his face pale.

“Have… have they found the remains of my sons?” he asked, inhaling sharply.

“What remains? They’re alive! Alpha Lance brought back two Rog warriors from the Dragon Ash Werewolf Kingdom. After being captured, they escaped and formed the Eugenius Scout Team, supplying intelligence to the Southern Border,” Cyrus revealed.

Garrett clutched his chest, shaking his head as tears welled up. “Don’t joke about this. They’re dead–torn from my heart like flesh. This can’t be…”

Cyrus stood and patted his shoulder. “They did you proud! I’m proud of them, too, proud of the entire Eugenius Scout Team.”

Tears streamed down Garrett’s face. His lips trembled. “Is it true?”

“Absolutely true. Lycan Erasmus has ordered the Department of Culture to prepare for their welcome. However, they won’t return to the capital soon. Marsh from the Hornbeam Pack is severely injured; they must wait for him to recover,” Cyrus said.

Garrett covered his eyes and face with his sleeve, shoulders shaking silently.

As the Minister of Culture, he knew he must maintain decorum before Cyrus and his staff, yet he couldn’t stem the flood of tears.

The pain of losing his sons had been like a wolf–toxin–tipped ice pick lodged deep in his heart.

He breathed carefully, fearful of shattering his fragile facade.

His oak–scented pheromones were perpetually frosted, masked by the rust–redolent pressure of paperwork, suppressing the turmoil within.

His two sons, once playful pups in his care, had become two crimson stains on the Southern Border battlefield, their howls forever silenced in mid–charge.

As their father, Garrett’s chest burned with oak–like pride for their glory, yet this pride was hollow, gnawed away by endless longing, leaving only bleeding pain.

“I’ll leave you be and ensure you’re not disturbed,” Cyrus said, a faint ripple of emotion in his cedar pheromones, his voice slightly trembling.

As Cyrus turned to leave, the deliberate slowness of his steps stirred a gust of air. The moment the door closed, Garrett’s oak aura collapsed.

He dropped to his knees, knuckles whitening with strain, claws extending unconsciously, scoring the stone floor.

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Bowing his head, he emitted a stifled whimper–a sound not human, but akin to a wolf’s mournful howl.

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