Five Alphas Kneel for Me (Isabella) novel Chapter 537

inute.

I

The Howlnet tempest was snowballing, growing more chaotic by the knew it must be tearing through the Grant Pack, undoubtedly giving Evan a throbbing, Alpha–sized headache.

He pushed open his mother’s den door. The room was dark, lit only by the psychic glow of a link–stone screen, which cast a harsh, blt light on Wendy’s twisted face.

She was still scrolling frantically through the resonance threads, a thin, vengeful smile playing on her lips. My wolf, Lyca, bristled at tl scent of her malice–it smelled like stagnant swamp water.

“Mom,” Carson’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “Stop. Just let it go.”

“If you keep this up, Dad and you are truly done. All these years of blood bond, are you really going to ruin it all for Lola?”

Wendy snapped her head up, the link–stone light starkly illuminating the red veins in her eyes. “He was the one who abandoned us first!”

Her voice was sharp and shrill, like a silver needle pricking at the air.

“He cast aside his own mate for me! I’m going to make sure this blows up! I’m going to make sure everyone sees what a pathetic excuse for a man Carson is!”

She was past listening to any member of the pack now.

But just then, a highly respected Elder Skald from our kin updated his Howlnet resonance.

[These young pups today, they’ll do anything for status, absolutely shameless. Stealing a wolf’s life’s work and then trying to turn it around on them? It’s honestly disgraceful.]

Wendy saw the post pop up on her feed, and her eyes instantly lit up with a predatory gleam.

She’d had someone send Lola’s soul–melody to this Elder, hoping he would publicly support Lola’s claim.

If he could just back Lola, the Pack Council organizers would be pressured to disqualify Vivian, which would move Lola up a rank and secure her spot in the international lupine competition.

A little while later, Lola’s telepathic ping came through,

“What have you done?! Didn’t you say you were going to get someone to praise my work, boost my reputation? What is going on now?!”

Wendy looked bewildered. “I did find someone to clear your name, to vouch for you! That person was even someone who had a great relationship with the Grant Pack for ages…”

She stopped short, her voice trailing off as her pheromones shifted to pure dread.

The Grant family had a good relationship with that Elder because of–Sunny!

That Elder was Sunny’s mentor!

And it must have hit her then: was he taking sides with Sunny’s pup now?.

“Lola, don’t panic. I still have a plan!”

Wendy hung up the link and clicked back to the old wolf’s homepage.

She was about to use this to incriminate that old geezer and me when she suddenly noticed a video link beneath the post.

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She quickly clicked the video, and a grainy, yellowish image flickered onto the screen.

It was clearly a video shot over a decade ago; that kind of grainy quality couldn’t be faked in the present day, even with modern telepathic recording.

Then, in the video, she saw a she–wolf sitting at a piano, with a five- or six–year–old pup seated beside her.

The she–wolf’s slender fingers danced across the keys, and a majestic yet sorrowful melody slowly unfurled.

It was “Gaze into the Abyss“!

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The instrument was human–made, but the melody–it was identical to the soul–song Lola claimed. My breath hitched, a gasp catching in my throat. Lyca let out a mournful, low whine in the back of my mind, recognizing the vibration of a mother’s spirit.

At the climax of the piece, the she–wolf suddenly doubled over, wracked by a violent coughing fit. Her body seized, a tremor running through her–her Blood–Core was clearly failing–and then, without warning, a gush of bright red Alpha blood erupted from her lips, splattering across the pristine white piano keys, staining them crimson in an instant.

“Mommy!”

The little pup, who had been nestled close, shrieked, a sound of pure terror tearing through the air. She scrambled to turn, her small limbs clumsy with fear, and wrapped her tiny arms around the she–wolf, who was now swaying precariously, on the verge of collapsing.

The she–wolf’s body crumpled.

And then, just like that, the video cut out.

I watched Wendy’s face drain of color, her body stiffening as if she’d been struck by a silver bolt. The link–stone slipped from her trembling hand and landed with a soft thud on the carpet.

A cold dread seeped into my bones. This was it.

Everything was over.

The Howlnet users watching this video might not recognize the mother and daughter in that grainy footage, but I did. And judging by Wendy’s horrified expression, so did she.

The she–wolf at the piano… it was Sunny Grant. Carson’s most beloved younger sister, who had passed away years ago.

And the little pup, crying her heart out, was unmistakably me–Isabella, as a child!

A timestamp in the corner of the video clearly showed the date: fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years ago, Lola had been only a four–year–old pup. How could a four–year–old possibly have channelled such a complex, deeply emotional soul–piece?

The lie shattered.

The Howlnet, all at once, erupted with the fury of a thousand scorned Alphas.

The sympathy that had once poured out for Lola was replaced by an equally fierce, seething rage.

Deception, lies, the theft of a dead wolf’s legacy… I knew any single one of those accusations was enough to utterly destroy Lola, to brand her as an Omega–caste fraud, a shame she’d never escape, never recover from.

Online hate crashed down like a tsunami, and I watched as Lola’s resonance channels were instantly overwhelmed by furious pack

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members.

I could only imagine Lola, locked away in her room, her link–stone screen a crawling mass of hateful comments, like black worms squirming across the display.

She’d want to turn it off, I knew, but her fingers would be trembling too violently to tap the stone straight.

With every refresh, I knew, the venomous comments would just multiply, doubling, tripling, consuming her.

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I pictured the frantic knocking of her mother, the urgent cries from beyond the locked door. Lola, I imagined, was huddled in a corner, hands clamped over her mouth, her wolf cowering and tail tucked, a terrified, trembling thing, unable to even breathe.

The world outside her door? That was a pack life she’d never get back. Never.

I could tell the consequences of that video were far more devastating than Wendy had ever anticipated.

Her link–stone buzzed relentlessly on the carpet, yet she didn’t dare answer a single telepathic call.

The high–ranking she wolves who usually fawned over her were now sending messages filled with nothing but cold, pointed questions.

The Pack resonance link, I knew, was utterly silent. No one dared to utter a single word.

Sunny Grant.

That name, I knew, was a death knell, a fatal blow straight to Wendy’s heart.

She was Carson Grant’s little sister, the one he’d cherished so fiercely, like a fragile jewel he was afraid to drop, a precious candy he was afraid to melt. Even now, the mere mention of her name could bring tears to the eyes of anyone in the Grant Pack

And Wendy’s daughter, Lola, had dared to steal Sunny Grant’s posthumous work. She’d walked all over the memory of a beloved, deceased family member just to earn that laughable “genius” title, and then, to top it all off, she’d tried to dump the blame squarely on Sunny’s only remaining bloodline!

This wasn’t just plagiarism; this was like digging up the Grant Pack’s ancestral graves!

A raw, guttural scream ripped through the air,

From the room, I heard Lola finally break, a piercing scream tearing through the silence, followed by the violent crash of something being shattered.

Her link–stone must have been shattered already; she was probably terrified to face the Howlnet comments.

She had locked herself in her den, the curtains drawn tight against the world, likely huddled beneath the covers

Her entire life–her once–proud talent, the coveted status she’d chased–it had all evaporated into thin air overnight, or so it must have felt to her in that moment.

Downstairs, Wendy was also teetering on the edge of collapse.

I watched Wendy, her eyes glued to her link–stone, knowing those once sycophantic she–wolves were now shunning her like the plague.

Carson returned from the Pack Enterprise, his face utterly devoid of expression. His eyes, though, held a dead, ashen stillness that made Wendy visibly tremble. His Alpha aura was suppressed, but the air around him felt heavy, like the moments before a lightning strike.

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“Carson… I… I didn’t know that was Nick’s song…” Wendy tried to explain, her voice dry and cracking.

“You didn’t know?” Carson’s laugh was a cold, derisive sound that made his wolf’s teeth show for a split second. “Did I not warn you?

do?!” Didn’t Isabella reach out to you? Didn’t the cease–and–desist scroll make sense? And yet, what did

Wendy’s face went instantly pale.

you

She’d been shut out every single one of their

o completely swept up in Lola’s lies back then, so utterly convinced, that she’d clea

warnings.

But even now, she couldn’t bring herself to admit it to her mate.

“Carson, Lola, that pup, she’s just been so neglected, she wanted your approval so badly that she did something foolish. Now Lola’s losing her mind! We have to save her!” Wendy grabbed Carson’s arm, clinging to it as if it were her last lifeline.

“Save her?” Carson shook off her hand, his eyes as cold as silver blades. “After all this, you’re still only thinking about how to save her?” Wendy flinched from his shout, tears welling in her eyes. “I was thinking… if only Isabella would admit that she gave Lola the piece…” The smug expression on her face screamed that she believed this whole act was utterly flawless.

The strategy was clear in Wendy’s mind, and I could practically see it playing out: this entire charade wouldn’t just erase the “thief” stigma from Lola’s name. It would also solidify their image as deeply devoted sisters, earning them a surge of public sympathy across the Pack Council.

I was just a packless pup, an orphan, so I was supposed to be eternally grateful that the Grant family had deigned to let me back into

their lives.

Carson’s voice was a low growl, laced with such fury it made the air crackle with static. I felt his wolf pushing to the surface, his muscles rippling under his skin.

“Say that again?”

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