A Female Alpha’s Revenge novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65

Third Person’s POV

Velda paled, realizing it was just an ordinary wooden stick.

Clenching her teeth, she swung her wolf claws at Adelaide.

Her strikes remained swift and powerful.

Blocking with the stick, Adelaide seized the moment when Velda turned.

+8 Pearls

Gripping the stick in one hand, she pushed its tip with the other, sending it flying into Velda’s abdomen.

As the stick fell, Adelaide’s left hand formed a claw–like shape, and the stick, as if magnetized, shot back into her grasp.

“Wow!” the crowd gasped. “What is that?”

“How did she pull the stick from the ground like that?”

Paisley explained coldly, “It’s the sheer aura of a powerful Alpha–it’s not just any ability. You wouldn’t understand.”

Staggering backward, Velda’s combat boots scorched the ground.

Uncontrolled, her scent glands released a storm of cedar and rust.

Deep within her mind, her wolf howled in despair.

“Silence!” she roared inwardly, blood seeping from her lip where her fangs had bitten through.

Her wolf’s shadow, meant to be one with her, now trembled in its cage—a sight that nearly made her vomit.

She forced herself to calm, though panic had already consumed her.

She had the aura of a werewolf, yes, but as an ordinary she–wolf with no extraordinary bloodline, she’d always thought it useless.

She’d focused on practical combat skills since childhood, believing strength was the only currency on the battlefield.

Adelaide twirled the stick effortlessly, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Velda,” she said, “shall we continue, or do you concede?”

To Velda, “concede” was a slap in the face.

and the lined foch han

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Chapter 65

The moves were simple but vicious, effective for slaying enemies in war.

+8 Pearls

Adelaide danced out of reach, watching Velda’s eyes redden with every strike. Then, with a leap, Adelaide struck Velda’s wrist, sending the sword flying. A midair kick sent Velda hurtling backward.

Adelaide landed gracefully, three yards away from the blood–spitting Velda. The stick spun rapidly in her hand, creating a vortex.

Hundreds of wooden shards peeled off, swirling like snowflakes before hurtling toward Velda.

Though clad in armor, Velda was left with scores of scratches.

One shard grazed her neck, drawing blood.

The wound was superficial, quickly healing under her werewolf regenerative abilities, but everyone knew how easily it could have been a fatal slash.

But how did Adelaide control her attack so precisely?

The crowd erupted in shock.

They’d expected a hard–fought battle lasting at least thirty minutes, not this swift, one–sided victory.

Velda hadn’t even touched Adelaide’s clothes. She was utterly defeated.

Velda coughed up blood. That kick had nearly rearranged her internal organs. The pain left her voiceless for a moment.

Her face drained of color as she instinctively touched her neck, her fingers coming away bloody.

She trembled uncontrollably–not from fear, but from disbelief.

This outcome was unacceptable. She’d never seen such power before.

How could Adelaide have become so strong?

She recalled when she and Ulrik had left, Ulrik had joked that Adelaide could hurt him with a mere leaf. At the time, she’d laughed.

Now, experiencing this humiliation firsthand, jealousy and resentment gnawed at her like a

swarm of ants.