Chapter 719:

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I stepped up to Jean-Paul. “Level 9 silver-toxin,” I whispered, my voice dropping to a glacial octave.

Jean-Paul’s smug expression vanished. His Alpha aura flared violently. He grabbed my bare arm, his grip bruising. “Do not test me, girl. You are nothing but a bargaining chip.”

I didn’t flinch. I reached into my clutch and pressed play on the burner phone.

Gideon’s arrogant voice drifted between us, quiet but devastatingly clear: “…handing their treason directly to the High Council. The Royal Pack will burn…”

𝘑𝘰𝗶𝗻 𝘵hо𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇𝗱𝘀 о𝖿 𝘧𝖺nѕ 𝘰n 𝗴𝖺𝗹𝗻𝘰v𝖾𝘭s.𝖼о𝘮

The massive information gap shattered. Jean-Paul’s face drained of all color. His oppressive Alpha aura instantly collapsed, replaced by the sour, acrid stench of absolute, paralyzing terror. He realized he had invited a monster into his home who was actively plotting his execution.

I violently ripped my arm from his trembling grasp.

Looking down at the broken Elder, I smiled — a cold, ruthless expression I had learned from watching Dallas Marshall destroy his enemies.

“If you don’t want me to send this audio file to every Justicar in the High Council right now,” I hissed, “you will do exactly as I say. Cancel this pathetic engagement. And arrange an untraceable car to take Healer Henri Laurent to my safe house immediately.”

Jean-Paul’s Inner Wolf whimpered in total submission. He gave a frantic, jerky nod, his eyes wide with the realization that his life was entirely in my hands.

I turned away from him, my gaze lifting toward the heavy glass doors of the Embassy terrace. The first chain was broken, but I wasn’t finished. I needed Gideon’s head.

Azalea’s POV

I didn’t let Elder Jean-Paul breathe. I grabbed the lapel of his expensive tuxedo and shoved him backward, forcing the broken man through the heavy glass doors and out onto the Embassy Terrace.

The freezing Alpine wind whipped my blood-red silk gown around my legs, but I didn’t feel the cold. The Sterling fire was burning too hot in my veins. Below us, the glittering lights of Geneva stretched out into the black waters of the lake, completely oblivious to the lethal shift in power happening in the shadows.

Jean-Paul stumbled against the carved marble railing, his cane clattering to the stone floor. The acrid, sour stench of his terrified Inner Wolf completely suffocated his once-proud Alpha aura.

“You think Gideon’s recording is your biggest problem?” I hissed, stepping into his personal space. My Inner Wolf bared her fangs, radiating a cold, murderous intent that made the old man flinch. “I know what you did eighteen years ago, Jean-Paul.”

Gideon’s recording had mentioned a “foundational debt” from eighteen years ago — a taunt I hadn’t understood until I saw the encrypted mercenary manifest Henri had smuggled to me alongside the burner phone. The “illness” that killed my mother wasn’t a tragedy; it was a transaction.

All the remaining color drained from his wrinkled face.

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