Chapter 82: Sherman regrets and beating

The weather settled back into its calm rhythm the moment Isabella opened her eyes. Desmond gave a small nod to his guards.

“Check inside,” he ordered.

He suspected Isabella might have exaggerated. But as soon as the door opened, the guards froze.

“She is in the room, Alpha Desmond,” one guard said faintly.

Desmond stared at Isabella, disbelief filling his eyes.

“I told you,” she replied with a quiet smile.

Desmond turned sharply to his domestic workers. “No one should expose Mrs. Evelyn in any way. If anyone does, I will kill whoever it is.”

Murmurs of agreement followed, each person answering with a trembling, respectful, “Yes, Alpha.”

Moments later, Sherman walked in. Isabella’s gaze fixed on him immediately. Her eyes sharpened, narrowing as she looked past his flesh and into the presence riding inside him.

“Leave,” she commanded, her voice cutting sharply.

Sherman’s body jerked as the wolf spirit possessing him tore itself out with a violent tremor. He gasped, steadying himself.

“Annabelle chose you as her right hand,” Isabella said. “And you accepted like a fool. Now look at yourself—walking around pretending it’s strength when it’s nothing but borrowed rage.”

Desmond stood quietly, watching Isabella handle Sherman. He made no move to interrupt.

Sherman exhaled shakily. “I feel… relieved.” He stretched his fingers, breathing as though just waking from a long nightmare. Then he looked up suddenly. “Where is the file? I came for the file.”

Isabella didn’t answer him directly. She looked around instead. “Mrs. Evelyn should be awake by now. Get her.”

A guard nodded and hurried off.

Sherman stared at Isabella in confusion. “What… what are you saying?”

Before she replied, Mrs. Evelyn stepped out on her own. Sherman’s face drained of color.

“Evelyn?” he whispered. “You’re alive?”

She stood firm, glaring at him.

“I knew my spell didn’t kill you,” he grumbled. “I felt it. I just didn’t know how you managed to resist.”

Desmond stepped forward. “I therefore—”

“Stop,” Isabella cut in. “Let him finish his disgrace. Let him die a shameless death rather than granting him the dignity of expulsion. He deserves the end he brought on himself.”

Sherman’s jaw tightened, but he still raised his chin. “You can’t go back to that house anymore,” he said toward Evelyn. “It belongs to me now. That’s final.”

“I came for the documents,” Isabella responded.

“You should be ashamed,” she continued before Sherman could speak. “Look at what you turned yourself into. You think you’re wise? You think your petty tricks gave you power? You think you’ve favored the world with your wickedness? You haven’t. You’ve reduced yourself to nothing.”

Sherman scoffed. “You can’t destroy me.”

He turned to Desmond, pointing a finger. “And you—I will take over from you.”

Desmond stepped closer. “You must be insane. You’re a rogue now. You’re leaving this pack.”

“You can’t destroy me!” Sherman yelled. “I’m undestroyable! Expelling me is nothing but bringing fire on yourselves! I won’t take one step out of here.”

Desmond’s voice hardened. “You have no place here.”

Sherman smirked. “Make me leave, then.”

The tension thickened.

Isabella stepped forward. “Enough, Sherman.”

He turned toward her, expecting another insult. Instead, she looked directly into his soul, her tone cold and even.

“Leave.”

He didn’t move.

“I said leave.”

Her voice carried an unnatural force, pushing into him like weight. Sherman stumbled backward, breath hitching as if he had been slapped. The guards shifted, startled.

Sherman glared at her with red, furious eyes. “You think you can force me?”

“You are not staying,” Isabella replied. “Leave before your arrogance buries you.”

Sherman held her stare for a long moment. Then without warning, he sneered, spat on the floor, and turned away.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered.

He walked out of the pack house, but as soon as he reached the forest path, rage exploded in him. Annabelle’s voice echoed in his head—the same voice that used him, manipulated him, twisted him.

He growled. “Annabelle!”

The forest stirred, and she emerged from the shadows—calm, confident, smiling faintly as though she had expected this moment.

“So you finally came back,” she said.

Sherman marched forward. “You used me.”

“I guided you,” she corrected.

“You poisoned me!” he shouted. “You put your wolf into me! You made me your puppet!”

Annabelle looked almost bored.

“You needed direction. I gave it.”

“You ruined everything!” Sherman yelled. “You turned the pack against me! You made me attack Evelyn! You—”

Annabelle raised a finger. “Sherman, Sherman, Sherman… stop making noise.”

He lunged at her. She sidestepped easily, her nails elongating into claws as she slashed across his arm. Blood splattered the ground.

Sherman gasped. “You—”

“You want to fight?” Annabelle asked. “Then fight.”

He charged again. She moved with speed he couldn’t match.

Each time he swung, she countered with brutal precision—cuts along his ribs, his back, his shoulder, his thigh. He cried out, stumbling, breathing hard.

Annabelle smirked. “You really thought you were strong enough? You? A man who couldn’t even keep control of himself without me?”

Sherman roared and leapt again, but she caught him mid-air and slammed him to the ground. Her claws hovered at his throat.

“You were useful,” she said softly. “A tool. That’s all.”

Sherman coughed blood. “I’ll kill you,” he hissed. “I swear, I’ll kill you.”

Annabelle pressed harder, drawing a thin line of blood from his neck. “You can try,” she whispered, “but you will fail.”

She stood up, kicking him aside like broken furniture.

“Don’t come near me again. If you do, I’ll tear your limbs off one by one.”

Sherman forced himself to his knees, trembling, bleeding, furious. “You think this ends here?”

Annabelle folded her arms. “It ended before it started. You just didn’t know.”

Sherman wiped blood from his mouth. “I’ll destroy you,” he said slowly. “And I’ll destroy that pack. Desmond will regret the day he looked down on me.”

Annabelle laughed quietly. “You can barely stand.”

Sherman staggered to his feet. “I don’t need to stand to destroy you. I only need to live long enough to watch everything burn.”

Annabelle tilted her head. “You won’t get that chance.”

He spat blood. “Watch me.”

He turned and limped away, dragging himself toward the deeper forest. Annabelle watched him go, expression unreadable.

“You’ll die before you get anywhere,” she murmured.

Sherman didn’t look back.

“I won’t die,” he whispered to himself. “I’ll become something stronger… something they can’t kill.”

His voice cracked, but his anger didn’t fade.

“Desmond… Isabella… Annabelle…”

He swore their names like curses.

“I’ll destroy you all.”

Anabelle back to her room, with her heart panting fast. She almost broke the mirror on the wall.

" The battle of reclaiming has just started and I vow to take what rightfully belongs to me." She sworn with everything in her.

Whereas, Sherman life seems to be in trouble, his heart have be affected, and Johnson forgotten by his own deep thought.

" I wished my wolf is with me, this wouldn't have happened to me " he regretted his actions that led to his wolf leaving.

" I was right on what I did."

" Right you said." He heard a voice behind, that must be his wolf, that have speak behind.