Blinded Alpha's Curse

Savage growls mixed with the heavy clash of swords and howls of pain were all that could be heard. Everyone knew the journey would be dangerous, but they hadn't expected it to be this extreme. The carriage had to detour through the forest, venturing into an area controlled by the clan of ghostly warriors, known mortal enemies of the Lycan kingdom. Now it was clear: the landslide blocking the safe route wasn't an accident but a planned ambush.

The men tasked with escorting the Countess alongside the Alpha immediately joined the fight, uniting with the Count's soldiers. Anne Marie, for her safety, remained locked inside the carriage, clutching the dagger she always carried and trying to control her emotions. But the situation outside the carriage didn't seem to be improving.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "These wretches hid from me that they also had enemies on the border of our kingdom. In the end, it's my fault for chasing after the man of my dreams. They'll surely kill me or take me prisoner, and the worst part is... I won't even get to confirm how handsome he really is!"

Suddenly, the Countess's lamentations were interrupted by a massive impact that flipped the carriage onto its side. Her body was violently thrown backward, and she hit her head. Anne was knocked unconscious for a few moments, but a sharp, stabbing pain forced her to open her eyes. As she regained consciousness, she heard Luciano's desperate cries:

"Countess! Countess! Get out of there!"

Anne Marie's vision was blurred from the blow; she couldn't focus on what was in front of her, and everything seemed to spin. She tried to move her torso, but her position in the overturned carriage made it impossible to get up. The countess struggled with all her might to sit up and attempt to escape, as Luciano's shouts grew fainter.

She had no idea what was happening outside. The windows and doors were sealed to ensure her safety, and for some reason, the chaos of growls and screams wasn't as loud as before. It felt as if she were inside a bubble, detached from the ferocity of the battle. The heat inside the carriage was suffocating. In her current position, she could only try to kick one of the doors, and she was determined to do so. It was a matter of life and death; her body warned her that she was running out of oxygen.

Drenched in sweat and exhausted, she thought she would never see her beloved father again if she passed out there. To motivate herself, she reminded herself that "Alberth Delacroix, Count of Holst, had not raised a weak woman, and her mother was the bravest and strongest woman she had ever known."

Anne felt so energized by the memory of her mother, who had fought until the end for her life, that she kicked the door with such force that it flew open. At the same time, her shoe went flying.

"Damn it!" she shouted in frustration. "Can't a lady maintain her grace in the midst of chaos, or at least keep a shoe on?!"

She stretched out her arms to grab the seat and pull herself out, but the sudden movement and the force she exerted caused a loud tear in the back of her dress.

"Oh, for goddess' sake!" she exclaimed again.

As she tried to climb out without losing the rest of her dress, she muttered obscenities under her breath. With each attempt, the front of her dress slipped, leaving her chest dangerously exposed.

"My mother always said it!" she cried. "Having a generous bust is both a blessing and a curse! I'm never leaving the house without a corset again!" In her distress, she forgot she was in the middle of an armed conflict. "I can't take it anymore, it's now or never!" With that, she pushed herself up with all her strength, halfway out of the carriage, and what she saw around her left her speechless for a moment.

The carriage had sunk into dark, muddy, and putrid waters. Only a small part of it was still visible. She had almost suffocated inside.

A sudden gust of wind against her chest made her feel cold. She looked down and realized the fabric covering her bust had slipped completely as she climbed out. Fortunately, no one noticed the mishap amid the chaos of the battle. Quickly, she adjusted what remained of her dress and held it tightly against her chest to keep it from moving again.

Anne Marie watched the fight from several meters away. The soldiers escorting the carriage on the Count's orders were badly injured but still fighting. Two enormous wolves were battling dozens of humanoid, ghostly beings. The lethal swipes of their claws had no effect, and their bites were useless against these creatures. After observing closely, she understood why: those warriors could dematerialize their bodies at will and rematerialize just as quickly to avoid being harmed. She was sure that if they materialized, even for a few seconds, Luciano and Marcus could easily defeat them.

She was also in danger and needed to act quickly, as the carriage continued to sink. She thought her best option was to draw everyone's attention to herself. The only thing that might work was emitting a loud, piercing sound to silence the tumult of the battle. But she realized she had nothing within reach to achieve this and, to make matters worse, she didn't know how to whistle. This only added to her frustration, which was already considerable.

Anne Marie was injured and frightened, watching as the carriage sank into a swamp with a nauseating, unbearable stench. She had lost a new shoe, and her most beautiful dress-the one she was going to wear to meet her future husband-was ruined. Her chest kept slipping out, much to her dismay, and all she wanted to do was scream in pure frustration. She stood on top of the carriage, fists clenched, and, possessed by supernatural anger, filled her lungs with air to let out a scream so full of rage that everyone stopped to cover their ears.

When the Countess ran out of breath and her scream ended, she noticed that both enemies and soldiers, as well as the emissaries, were staring at her with great interest: the fabric of her dress had fallen again.

The first to look away in embarrassment was Counselor Luciano.

Then General Marcus did the same, but, taking advantage of the two distractions caused by the countess, they began to tear through the enemies in their human form at breakneck speed. Anne Marie Delacroix, Countess of Holst, had managed to create the perfect distraction, though she wasn't proud of the methods she had used.

Just as she began to panic again, observing her precarious situation, a thunderous howl startled her. It was a sound filled with energy and power, capable of shaking the leaves of every tree in the forest. For a moment, it seemed as if everything vibrated, and in a way, it did. Even her body reacted, her hair standing on end from head to toe; she had never felt anything like it.

The wolf forms of the emissaries grew larger and more ferocious, both recharged with energy and regenerated by the presence of another werewolf, one who might be stronger than all of them... the Alpha.

"Oh my God!" Anne Marie gasped. "It can't be. No, no, it can't be him. I'm a mess, half-naked and without shoes!" She searched for any sign of the man she longed to meet, but there was only chaos and a frenzy in Luciano and Marcus's wolves.

Seeing themselves cornered and with many losses on their side, the ghostly warriors decided it was time to retreat. They fled into the forest, trying to escape death at the hands of the wolves, but the wolves, driven by their bloodlust, chased after them, leaving Anne Marie alone with the Count's soldiers, who were barely alive.

"Help! Please! I don't think this will hold much longer!" she shouted desperately, trying to call the soldiers to rescue her.

Those who heard her crawled, doing their best to help despite the severity of their wounds. Though they tried, they were certain they couldn't reach her without drowning in those deadly waters. Anne cried as she watched them and thought she would die alongside those loyal and brave men.

Just when she thought there was no hope left, she heard something enormous approaching at full speed through the forest. It was tearing down everything in its path, like an avalanche.

When it stopped right at the scene of the battle, its form became clear: It was a white wolf, its fur covered in blood. Its eyes were closed, and it had stopped to sniff the air.

"Help!" Anne Marie shouted, feeling dizzy again and with a terrible headache. "I'm Anne Marie Delacroix, Countess of Holst! Two emissaries from your kingdom were escorting me; they were taking me to Alpha Gael!"

The great bloodstained wolf had listened carefully to every word she said, but he didn't seem in a hurry to rescue her. He was distracted, looking elsewhere.

"I'm on top of a carriage that's completely sunk in this swamp! Bring someone! Do something, please!"

All she got from the werewolf was an angry growl, baring a long row of sharp teeth. The gesture seemed like an order for her to be quiet. His ears twitched slightly, as if he were listening to something in the distance.

Anne began to feel her ankles slowly being swallowed by the swamp, and the white wolf's figure grew even more distant, so blurry that she could only make out a smudge.

"It seems I won't get to meet my future husband," she whispered, letting out a sigh filled with sadness. She fell to her knees, exhausted. "It would have been wonderful to see him before I died."

The smell of rot made her gag; she was closer than ever to losing consciousness. Before she fainted, she heard the wolf's howl again, but it was very different from the first. This howl was a soft melody that resonated deep in her bones, as if it were healing her. She felt comforted for a few brief moments and, with her vision less impaired, she could see the enormous white wolf approaching her, carefully stepping around the wounded soldiers.

When he was a few meters from the swamp, his head shook violently, and he began to sneeze. The putrid fumes emanating from the swamp assaulted his keen sense of smell. Despite this, he tried to resist to get closer to where the countess was.

The wolf circled the swamp a couple of times and then began signaling to Anne Marie. He pointed his head toward her and then mimed jumping. Despite never opening his eyes, he knew exactly where the countess was.

"Are you crazy?" Anne Marie shouted. "How are you going to jump all the way here? We'll both sink. Look, half my legs are already under this disgusting mud. Besides, you're too far away; you won't reach..." A loud growl silenced her again. "You're so rude! Do whatever you want; I don't care anymore. At this rate, I'll die here anyway," she said resignedly.

She was tired of holding her chest with one hand and supporting herself with the other on what little remained of the carriage under the muddy waters, so she decided to muster her last bit of strength and try to stand. If the wolf jumped to where she was, she might have a better chance of holding on and trying to escape with him. That is, assuming he could even make the enormous leap.

The werewolf began to take steps back, concentrating intensely. The soldiers moved out of his way, secretly praying to the gods that he could save her. When he stopped, he didn't make the slightest attempt to run; instead, he lowered his body to prepare for the leap. What everyone saw next was a massive canine with its large paws extended, soaring through the air.

He landed precisely beside the countess, giving her just enough time to dig her nails into his thick fur. Without wasting a second, he leaped again with the same force, causing Anne Marie to scream as they soared over the swamp.

The landing for the white wolf wouldn't be perfect this time. He had to perform a risky maneuver mid-air to protect Anne Marie's body from the impact: transform into a human and wrap her in his arms. Only then would he absorb most of the damage.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. By the time the countess realized she was trapped in the arms of a naked, sweaty man, the impact of their fall knocked her unconscious.

One week earlier.

"Madame, what kind of outfit will you wear today? A white satin dress would perfectly complement your skin-you'd look stunning! Or perhaps a pink dress to match your favorite slippers? That would also look lovely," proposed Marcia, the maid, with enthusiasm.

Thus began another day in the life of the twenty-one-year-old woman with long red hair and a strikingly beautiful face, known throughout the neighboring kingdoms: the life of countess Anne Marie Delacroix.

"For this afternoon's tea, we've prepared your favorite cake. Of course, we've also made your milk tea, the one you love so much, right?" asked Marcia with an insistent and radiant smile.

The excessive attentions were a daily occurrence. It had been this way ever since her divorce from Duke Thomas Rotts, the Emperor's right-hand man. She had been despised and humiliated by him during the two years their marriage lasted. The mere fact that his wife couldn't conceive was a dishonor to him and, consequently, to the entire kingdom. Even the Emperor approved the dissolution of their union, considering the marriage a misfortune for the royal lineage.

"Madame! Look, the new slippers you ordered have arrived!" Marcia continued trying, with little success, to cheer up the countess in hopes of getting her out of bed.

Once the marriage was dissolved, she returned to the domains of her father, Count Alberth Delacroix, in the province of Holst. Her title of Countess was restored, but that didn't stop other noble families from refusing to treat her as they should. As the only daughter of Count Delacroix, the Emperor deemed it prudent to maintain business and trade relations intact, as her territory boasted one of the most robust economies in the kingdom.

"Oh, Madame, I must also remind you that your father wishes to have tea with you this afternoon," said the maid in a more solemn and serious tone.

"Is there any particular reason my father wants to see me?" the countess finally responded.

"I-I don't know, Madame. He only ordered that I bring you, without excuses, to the garden for tea. Please, Madame, the Count threatened to punish me if you missed it like the last few times."

Marcia's pleading gestures were genuine, so Anne took pity on her and, with an almost superhuman effort, got out of bed.

She had gotten Marcia into trouble before, but this time it seemed more serious. It was cruel to let her suffer punishment just because Anne was tired of her father's formalities.

"Fine. I'll go with him, so stop worrying. You know I don't want to face the stares of everyone in the mansion. I hate being their only topic of conversation, but my father seems deaf and blind to it."

"Don't say that, Madame! Your father loves you; that's why he did the impossible to bring you back home. The indignation of seeing the duke take concubine after concubine consumed him! He tries to stay informed about everything that happens around you-I can assure you of that!"

"You don't need to say it so vehemently, Marcia. Your reputation as a gossip is well-known. But, of everyone in the mansion, you're the only one who hasn't treated me with disgust or disdain since I returned."

The maid's face paled and then flushed at what seemed to be a "compliment."

By afternoon, the countess made her way to the garden. She didn't want-nor could she-hide the anger she felt, and it was clearly reflected in her features.

From a distance, she could see the relaxed figures of several men having a pleasant conversation around a small garden table. Among them, she only recognized her father, the Count. It didn't take a fortune teller to guess the reason for this gathering: it was another marriage proposal of convenience.

"Gentlemen," said Anne Marie, giving a brief curtsy as a greeting. The men stood and responded with elegance and courtesy.

"Daughter, let me introduce you to our guests. They've come from the honorable Lycan kingdom, representing Alpha Gael."

"So, my current situation and the disgrace of my failed marriage have traveled to the ends of the earth? I couldn't be happier," she replied in a dry, monotonous tone, making the Count clench his fists and hold his breath.

The emissaries from the Lycan kingdom were initially surprised, but, strangely, they didn't find the countess's response rude. On the contrary, they flashed their sharp, gleaming fangs in discreet smiles.

"Countess Delacroix."

"Please, gentlemen," she interrupted, "since you're already so well-informed about my life, address me less formally."

"Anne Marie!" exclaimed the Count, his face contorted in a furious grimace.

"Yes, that's my name. Thank you, Father. You're always one step ahead," she said with a shameless smile.

The countess had no intention of pleasing these people or listening to "their proposals to restore her lost honor." As far as she was concerned, they could take their wonderful marital agreements and shove them deep into their-

"Madame Delacroix, we thank you for sparing us the formalities, and not only that, we also thank you for making us feel at home. For us Lycans, it's very difficult to mingle with other kingdoms due to our defiant nature."

The man's eyes seemed to close as his enormous wolfish smile appeared.

"You've done a magnificent job raising your daughter, count Delacroix," added the second emissary, taking a discreet sip of the freshly served tea.

The situation was becoming somewhat unusual for the count, so he decided to take a deep breath and regain his composure.

"Daughter, these gentlemen haven't come with the same intentions as the other noble families. If they had, they'd already be outside the mansion," he said seriously to his daughter. Then he turned his gaze to the gentlemen before him. "I hope you don't take this personally. My daughter has endured too many humiliations in recent months."

"Don't worry, Count Alberth. We understand perfectly. As Madame Delacroix said, we're aware of everything and have no intention of causing discomfort. However, I'm afraid our visit does include a marriage proposal," said the emissary, directing his beautiful golden eyes toward Anne, waiting for a reaction.

"What's in it for me?" The level of insolence in Anne Marie's response made the Count pale, who promptly exclaimed in visible distress:

"Good heavens!"

"It benefits you greatly, Madame! Alpha Gael is no ordinary noble. He's about to ascend the throne and will be proclaimed King once he marries. Consequently, you would be the Queen of the Lycans."

The man's gaze continued searching for some sign of astonishment or at least a reaction indicating he was close to convincing the countess, but he found none.

"There's something you're hiding from me, sir..."

"Marcus Verae, General of the Lycan kingdom's army, and this is Luciano Mavel, the royal counselor."

Their expressions were filled with nervousness, which only heightened Anne's suspicions.

"Very well, General Marcus. Tell me honestly, why aren't you looking for a Queen candidate within the Lycan nobility? I can assure you, and my father will kindly confirm, that I don't transform into a furry beast every full moon. My hair is this voluminous due to my family's genetics."

The emissaries were stunned, and Count Alberth choked violently on his tea.

Anne's face showed no sign of remorse for her actions. This was a farce, and she wasn't going to tolerate it.

The servants rushed to help the Count and clean up the spilled tea. Meanwhile, the Lycans, still in complete shock, looked at each other and burst into laughter; it seemed a weight had been lifted off their shoulders, and they were enjoying, perhaps a bit too much, this infamous display of cheekiness.

"Forgive us, Madame Delacroix, it was unavoidable. Your words are as sharp as our Alpha's. I see now that we made the right decision in coming," said one of the Lycans, trying to justify the situation.

"Allow me to explain," interjected Luciano, the royal counselor, who had been discreetly observing the countess until then. "Alpha Gael is a man of difficult character. He's a warrior accustomed to defending the kingdom's borders with his troops, and he had already expressed his decision not to ascend the throne. But, unfortunately, a few months ago, the King died on the battlefield, making our Alpha the sole heir to the kingdom."

"I'm very sorry, but you still haven't answered my question." Anne Marie closed her eyes and sighed impatiently. "If you insist on being dishonest and evasive, I'll take my leave. I have no intention of wasting any more time."

"Daughter, I think you're being very rude to our guests. You shouldn't-"

"Madame," interrupted the royal counselor, standing up immediately, "our Alpha was cursed by a powerful sorcerer in the same battle where the King died. He barely survived and secured victory for our kingdom, but he... was left completely blind."

His anguished gaze was genuine; he was telling the truth, and now it was clear what they truly wanted-or expected-from Anne.

Count Alberth, who had been ignored until then, completely changed his demeanor. He was shocked by the revelation and didn't seem pleased at all by what he had heard. He turned to the emissaries with a cold and impassive expression:

"No. My daughter will not be the wife of a blind man. I'm deeply sorry for what happened to your Alpha, and I reiterate my respect for your kingdom, but my daughter is the countess, one of the most beautiful and educated ladies in the western kingdom. Even if she carries the disgrace of being repudiated, I won't allow her to be humiliated further."

"It seems you don't understand, Count Delacroix," General Marcus intervened, his expression as serious as his interlocutor's. "Our Alpha is the most feared warrior in the kingdom. A man capable of instilling fear in his enemies with his mere presence!"

"Before the terrible incident that left him blind, he was the most desired man in the northern kingdoms. There isn't a woman who doesn't sigh in his presence, not to mention his intelligence and education-"

"How handsome did you say he was?" interrupted the countess, instantly showing great interest.

"Daughter!" exclaimed the Count.

"So handsome that even his own soldiers blush in his presence," said the counselor, brimming with pride.

"Anne Marie Delacroix, I forbid you from considering this."

"And... is he athletic?"

"He has the strength of a hundred human men," added the General.

"Oh, my God!" A deep blush spread across Anne's cheeks; she secretly thanked Marcia for giving her a fan that matched her dress. "Do you have any particular demands of me? As you know, I couldn't give my previous husband any heirs."

"Daughter, you can't be seri-"

"No, Madame Delacroix. If you accept, we won't demand anything from you. We need our kingdom to have a ruler again; otherwise, our enemies will try to invade, taking advantage of the instability. The Alpha must have a companion, and in our kingdom, women despise him because of the curse he bears. The neighboring kingdoms are enemies. You are our last hope."

"Enough!" The Count stood up, his face filled with rage. "Gentlemen, this meeting is over. Anne Marie, go to your room. I won't tolerate any more disrespect in my home!"

The emissaries stood in silence, trying to contain their anger. The tension in their jaws and the slight trembling of their lips, revealing their sharp fangs, made the countess a bit nervous; they looked like rabid dogs ready to attack at any moment.

The proposal was tempting, and Anne Marie wanted to make it clear to her father that she was no longer a child.

"Father, forgive me for disobeying you, but I'm tired of living locked away, being the servants' gossip and the kingdom's laughingstock. I can't go anywhere without being pointed at as 'the repudiated Countess.'"

"The nobles avoid me as if I carried some disease. Even mentioning my name is considered bad luck. I'll accept the Lycan kingdom's proposal."

"No! Anne Marie, I forbid it! You can't disobey me! If you leave, I-"

"What? Will you disinherit me? Gentlemen," Anne turned to the emissaries, "is your kingdom poor?"

"Of course not, Madame! Our kingdom is immensely wealthy, and the castle where the Alpha lives is more luxurious than any I've ever seen. If you accept, anything you desire will be yours instantly," replied the royal counselor with pride.

The Count tried to stammer some excuse, but the words caught in his throat. It seemed his baby, his treasure, his little girl, his only daughter, hated him. She had the worst opinion of him, even though his only intention was to protect her from those who wished to add more shame and pain to her life. With deep regret, he thought it best to say nothing more on the matter to avoid further damaging his relationship with Anne Marie.

"Very well. I don't think there's any need to continue arguing. Whatever my daughter decides will be done. Gentlemen, forgive the misunderstanding. You may rest from your long journey; the servants will show you to your rooms. You'll have comforts befitting honored guests."

The Count gave the final instructions to the servants, gave a brief bow to those present, and left, leaving his daughter with the emissaries.

"Madame Delacroix, I believe it's best we retire to rest for now, as your father has arranged. I don't think it's appropriate to continue the meeting in his absence. After all, he's opened the doors of his mansion to us, showing a generosity that cannot be ignored. The counselor and I would feel more comfortable this way, of course, as long as it's not a problem for you," said General Marcus, known as a wise and eloquent warrior.

He knew that acting with patience, measuring every move, ensured victory in any situation, and this, in particular, was a mission of life or death; failure would not be tolerated.

"I agree with you, gentlemen. I'll also retire for now. I think I have some matters to discuss privately with my father before giving you my final answer, as you've no doubt noticed, our views on my life here are quite opposed."

"But will you consider everything we've just told you, Madame Delacroix?" asked the counselor, showing some anxiety.

The General looked at him as if he wanted to strangle him, and Anne perceived the gesture as a bad sign.

"It seems this contract has more fine print than they've revealed," she thought.

The rumors in the mansion's hallway were more scandalous than usual. The Countess tried to ignore them as she walked toward her father's office, but each comment seemed to grow bolder as she passed.

"Did you hear the guests are werewolves from the north?" said one of the servants tasked with cleaning the mansion's grand corridor.

"Yes! They're beasts that can transform into humans. If it weren't for their supernatural strength, the southern and eastern kingdoms would've wiped them out by now," added another servant as he polished the floor.

"Rumors say their new ruler is cursed."

"Ha! Then it's perfect that he's asked for the Count's daughter's hand in marriage. They're made for each other."

Anne Marie stopped in her tracks upon hearing them laugh at her. Though her upbringing demanded she maintain composure-she was a lady, after all, and couldn't afford such behavior-her rage blinded her completely. She had lost all traces of self-control and decided it was time to unleash the beast within.

She looked around and picked up one of the many porcelain vases with plants lining the hallway, announcing loudly:

"I've always disliked the smell of this plant." Without warning, she hurled it toward the servants, causing a loud crash and scattering black soil across the freshly polished floor. "Hmm, it still smells bad. Maybe it wasn't the plant. Maybe it's this one."

The countess repeated the act with equal violence, smashing another vase against a nearby white wall and splattering mud everywhere.

The furious servants shouted at her without the slightest respect:

"Have you gone mad?!"

Anne Marie made a disgusted face and replied:

"It seems it's not the plants, but you. Every time you open your mouths, the mansion fills with a stench of rot. You should consider washing your mouths every now and then. It's truly disgusting."

The men, enraged by her words, raised their hands to strike, but before they could get close, they heard two low growls that paralyzed them and made them tremble with fear. Anne Marie had not anticipated the consequences of her actions, but since her separation from the Duke, she had taken to carrying a dagger hidden in her corset whenever she went out. Given her circumstances, she was prepared to take the first blow and allow the physical assault unfold. Only then, with undeniable proof of her aggression, could she draw her hidden weapon and claim the sanctity of self-defense. The scandal would be immense, of course, but far less damaging than beating a servant just for being disrespectful to her.

Then they came. Not with the sound of approaching footsteps, not with the subtle shift of air that heralded movement, but as if they had materialized from the shadows themselves. Royal Counselor Luciano and General Marcus of the Lycan nation stood between Anne Marie and her attackers. The General, a figure of imposing stature even at rest, now radiated raw power. His thick, dark hair seemed to bristle with contained energy. It was he who emitted the louder growl, a sound that resonated deep within the bones. His hands, normally calloused but human, now transformed before her eyes. Huge, wickedly sharp claws extended from his fingertips, glistening like polished obsidian. And his canines... Anne Marie had the distinct impression that the fangs protruding from his upper lip were far larger, far more deadly, than she remembered from their previous polite encounters. A shiver, not entirely unpleasant, ran down her spine.

The servants fell to their knees, trembling as if compelled by an invisible force, and turned their tear-filled eyes to her:

"Please, my lady, tell them not to hurt us. We beg you!"

"Why should I? You were about to attack me. Our honorable guests merely intervened on my behalf, as the gentlemen they are. By the way, how is an offense of this magnitude punished in the Lycan kingdom, Mr. Counselor?"

Luciano, the counselor, also in an attack stance, responded in a deep, guttural voice, very different from the polite and courteous tone he had used when introducing himself:

"We feed them to our fiercest wolves," he said without taking his eyes off the servants.

"Oh, that's an... interesting punishment. Well, you heard the gentlemen. Now clean this up and leave the place spotless. Otherwise, I'll speak to my father and have you sent to the Lycan kingdom."

Anne turned her gaze to the General and the counselor, who still had their claws dangerously close to the servants' necks, and spoke firmly:

"Gentlemen, I said that's enough. As you can see, this pair has already wet themselves just from hearing your growls. It'll be hard to clean if you scare them any further."

The emissaries relaxed almost immediately upon hearing the countess. But at the same time, they were deeply confused. Even in their incomplete wolf forms, their very nature compelled them to respond and obey only the voice of their Alpha.

Anne Marie didn't know this.

"I apologize for the commotion, Madame Delacroix. The General and I acted on instinct," said the counselor, lowering his gaze in shame.

"It's I who should thank you. I was about to arrive with a black eye to meet my future husband, and worse, I would've stained this beautiful dress and my new shoes with the blood of these wretches," she said with a smile, pulling out the hidden knife.

The servants paled at the sight of the sharp, gleaming blade in the Countess's hand. Without waiting for further orders, they hurried to clean up the mess. Due to the commotion, the maids and kitchen staff watched from a safe distance; though terrified, they didn't want to miss the spectacle.

"Please, gentlemen, return to your rooms and rest properly. And you, gossips," she said, addressing those hiding behind the large columns in the hallway, "if my meal or our guests' meals are delayed, I'll take you all as slaves to the Lycan kingdom." The sound of their hurried footsteps made her smile with satisfaction.

After giving a brief curtsy to the emissaries, Anne gracefully withdrew. The two men looked at each other, barely able to believe what had just happened. They shook their boots and spat on the floor in disdain as the servants cleaned, then headed to their designated rooms.

Before entering, the General stopped and said to his companion in a low voice:

"This woman is no ordinary one."

"No, Marcus, this woman is anything but common, but she's completely unaware of it."