121

121
Chapter 121

Azalea sat upright on the bed, her morning tea forgotten on the side table. Vicky had just delivered the report from the border, her voice hesitant but unable to hide the tremor of excitement.

“Mack was seen at the eastern border,” Vicky said carefully.

Azalea’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. Her fingers toyed with the edge of her robe before she set it aside and rose to her feet. “If Mack is here,” she said, her tone sharp and calculated, “then Ophelia is not far behind.”

Vicky blinked, unsure what to say. “Do you… want me to alert Federico?”

Azalea shook her head. “No. This is between me and them. Federico has enough on his plate. This is personal.” She moved to her dresser, selecting a cloak and draping it over her shoulders. “Vicky, prepare the car. We’re paying Mack a little visit.”

Vicky hesitated. “Visit him? Why? What are you planning, Azalea?”

Azalea turned to her, eyes gleaming with a cold determination. “I’m going to make sure Mack delivers a message for me. A warning to his precious wife. She wants to play games with me? She wants to ruin my life? Let’s see how brave she is when her husband comes crawling back with his pride crushed.”

“But—”

“No buts, Vicky.” Azalea’s voice softened, though the steel underneath was unmistakable. “This ends today. I’ve let them circle me like vultures for too long. Now it’s my turn to strike first.”

Vicky swallowed hard and nodded, finally obeying. “I’ll prepare the car.”

When Vicky left, Azalea glanced at herself in the mirror, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She wasn’t just defending herself anymore. She was fighting for her child, for the future Federico had promised her.

Moments later, Vicky returned, announcing that the car was ready.

On their way out, Miles appeared at the doorway, knocking softly before entering. “My lady,” he said, bowing his head respectfully. “We have the results on the knife.”

Azalea turned to him, her interest piqued. “And?”

Miles’s mouth twisted into a grim smile. “It was Leandro. The prints were altered, but not well enough. Our expert confirmed the match.”

Azalea’s chest tightened, not with fear but with satisfaction. “Leandro,” she repeated softly, as if tasting the name. “Good.” She turned fully to Miles, her expression fierce. “This is just the beginning. First Mack, then Ophelia. After that, we deal with Leandro and Thomas. And when I’m done…” Her smile widened, dark and triumphant. “…there won’t be a single threat left standing.”

Vicky shifted uneasily, unused to this ruthless side of Azalea, but she said nothing.

Azalea brushed past them both, her cloak swishing as she strode down the hallway toward the waiting car. For the first time in a long time, she felt completely in control.

As the car pulled out of the estate and sped toward the border, Azalea rested her hand over her still-flat stomach. They think they can take everything from me. But I am the Luna of this pack. I am the future queen.

She glanced at Vicky, who sat silently beside her. “Once I’m done with Mack, send a letter to Bennett and Maya. A public one. Let them sweat for a few days before their little affair is revealed.”

Vicky’s eyes widened. “You… already started your revenge on them?”

Azalea nodded, her smile chilling. “Oh, yes. Soon, everyone will know what they’ve been doing behind closed doors. Let’s see how bold they are when the entire pack turns on them.”

Vicky didn’t reply, but her heart pounded. The Azalea sitting next to her was no longer the soft-spoken Luna she had first served. This was a woman transformed by betrayal and determination — a queen preparing for war.

When the car approached the border, Azalea’s mind was already working, already planning her next move. She would speak to Mack herself, look him in the eyes, and make him understand: if Ophelia didn’t back down, she would lose everything.

This was no longer just survival.

This was vengeance.

And Azalea would not stop until it was complete.

\---

Azalea pushed the cottage door open without knocking, her presence filling the small space like a storm. Mack and Ophelia both froze where they sat, their faces mirroring identical shock.

“You—” Ophelia started, rising from her chair, but Azalea’s sharp command cut through the air.

“Sit.”

The single word carried so much authority that even Mack hesitated before lowering himself back down. Azalea stepped inside, the cloak around her shoulders swaying as she closed the door behind her.

“If either of you so much as twitches toward that door,” she said coldly, “I have guards stationed outside who will not hesitate to drag you out by your throats.”

Ophelia’s face blanched. “You wouldn’t—”

“Try me,” Azalea interrupted, her voice ice.

She set a small device on the table and pressed play. The cottage filled with their own voices — Mack’s low, angry threats, Ophelia’s sly remarks, even the gloating laughter when they planned to humiliate her at the banquet.

Ophelia’s eyes widened, color draining from her cheeks as every word replayed like a death sentence. “This—this is fake,” she stammered, voice shaking. “You fabricated this!”

Azalea smiled, a cold, humorless curve of her lips. “You must think I’m a fool. I don’t fabricate evidence, Ophelia. I will collect it.”

Mack clenched his jaw but said nothing.

“You are lucky,” Azalea continued, her tone lowering, darker, more dangerous. “Lucky that despite your pathetic attempts to destroy me, you failed to harm my child. Because if you had… if I had lost even a drop of blood because of you—” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing as she locked them on Ophelia. “—you wouldn’t be breathing right now.”

Ophelia’s lips trembled, but she stayed silent.

The door opened and two guards stepped in, their presence heavy and imposing.

“Take them,” Azalea ordered, her voice calm and regal.

Mack shot to his feet. “You can’t do this! You have no right—”

“I am the Luna of this pack,” Azalea snapped. “I have every right.”

The guards moved forward, seizing both Mack and Ophelia by the arms. Ophelia struggled, her protests turning shrill. “You’ll regret this, Azalea! You can’t just—”

“Take them to the holding cells,” Azalea cut her off, turning away from them as though they no longer deserved her attention.

Their voices grew fainter as they were dragged outside, protesting and cursing until the door shut behind them.

Azalea stood still for a moment, letting the silence settle, her heart steady and calm. This was not just a victory — this was a warning, a message to anyone else who might try to challenge her.

She exhaled slowly, straightened her shoulders, and stepped out of the cottage, her guards falling in behind her like shadows.

The war Ophelia started was officially over, and Azalea had won the first battle.