A Female Alpha’s Revenge (Adelaide) novel Chapter 873

Chapter 873

Third Person’s POV

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Sybil, Thalia, and the others who remained on the outskirts of the execution ground did not approach to see what the villagers were doing to her.

But just from those screams, everyone could picture the brutal scene unfolding before them.

These civilians who survived the disaster believed that letting this demon live one more day on this land would prevent the restless souls of the dead from finding peace in the Moon Goddess’s embrace.

No one knew how much time had passed before Velda’s piercing screams finally faded. Her body had been mutilated by blades and weapons; only her dirt–stained face remained recognizable.

Yet she did not die immediately. She squinted her eyes, looking around as she struggled to breathe, panic still gripping her.

The villagers in front of her wore terrifying expressions. Their axes, stained with pieces of flesh, rose into the air before crashing down toward her once more.

The strong smell of blood flooded every werewolf’s nose. In her final moments, Velda’s mind flashed back to the night she led her troops to slaughter these two villages.

That night, her soldiers were just like this, cruel smiles on their lips, raising sabers and spears, mercilessly hacking at the civilians.

Back then, blood had stained the ground as well, and the same sense of despair had filled the air.

At that time, the heavy scent of blood filled her nostrils. Instead of making her sick, it awakened a savage excitement and bloodlust within her wolf.

She had never believed the wolves of those two neutral villages were innocent. To her, the common–born were no different from accomplices.

She had once been the most glorious female warrior of the Northern Kingdom, and she desperately wanted to earn merit in battle to prove her abilities.

Back in the command room, she had even thought, “Why can’t I be like those Alphas? Why can’t I rise to the top through war and claim the power they hold? If I destroy every villager who dares to oppose me, I’ll stand above them all!”

So that night, when terrified heads rolled to her feet, she merely raised her military boot and kicked them aside.

“Continue,” she ordered.

Now, death finally had her by the throat.

As her consciousness faded bit by bit, she revisited that night as if she were watching someone else’s life.

She could barely recognize the person who had raised the butcher’s knife. How could someone like that possibly be her?

It must have been another she–wolf possessed by a demon, committing crimes so heinous that even the Moon Goddess herself would punish her.

The villagers‘ low growls and roars blurred in her ears. Then, her mind began to fracture, and she heard the shrill screams of the

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Chapter 873

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werewolves she had killed years ago.

Another fragment surfaced in her mind as she slaughtered the villagers, they cursed her in voices filled with hatred that she could barely hear through the chaos.

The more she listened, the angrier she became, and without hesitation, she drew her sword and struck down the nearest seven- or eight–year–old pup.

The head fell to the ground, rolling several times in the mud, blood gushing out. The pub’s eyes widened in terror, staring at her in fury.

In reality, a huge machete flashed a cold gleam before Velda’s eyes.

The next second, she felt a cold sensation against her neck.

Immediately after, a sharp, tearing pain shot through her scalp.

It was not as painful as she had imagined. She only felt herself suddenly rise into the air, as if someone had lifted her like garbage.

Looking down, she saw from midair a headless body spraying blood, lying motionless in a pool of blood before the mass grave.

That was her own body! Her head had really been chopped off by this mob!

She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs in horror!

However, the time granted to her by the Moon Goddess had run out.

Soon, she lost all consciousness. Her remaining soul, like a flame extinguished by the wind, her soul disappeared into endless

darkness.

***

Thousands of kilometers away, in the Northern Kingdom, Ulrik, lying on his side in bed, jolted awake from his dream.

His whole body convulsed violently, gasping for air, as if he had just been pulled from icy seawater. His pajamas were soaked through with cold sweat.

He abruptly sat up, his inner wolf restlessly pounding inside him. He felt as though a piece of his soul had been torn away, leaving behind nothing but an aching emptiness.

“What’s wrong with you now?”

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