Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King novel Chapter 235

Chapter 235: Shadowfell’s House, Shadowfell’s Rules

Nicholas Shadowfell had called this summit.

He’d just finished twelve hundred miles. His men were dehydrated, angry as hell, and one small problem away from losing their collective shit.

But they made damn sure to enter Greyhall Crossing like the final boss rolling up with his endgame squad, and every Alpha present stared at the formation like they were witnessing the second coming.

He came prepared for politics and the standard dick-measuring that occurred during every Alpha get-together since the beginning of wolf time.

He was not prepared for this.

The doors parted and hundreds of blades flashed in the torchlight, turning the entire chamber into a silverware drawer mid-earthquake.

His pack flowed in behind him and then locked up as one.

Nicholas’s eyes tracked across the chamber like a general reading a war zone, left to right, hunting the origin of the mess. There was always a center that explained the entire shitshow.

Found it.

Center of the chamber. Tharos Stonehowl had a blade pressed against the throat of his fated mate.

His wolf detonated.

The impact was so sudden and so violent that Nicholas’s legs locked mid-stride. Full stop. Zero transition between moving and frozen. His chest caved inward. His vision tunneled.

She had no idea he was there. Her chin was up, jaw set, and her attention was welded to the man threatening to open her neck.

His wolf was howling, raw and primal and so loud it drowned every rational thought he’d built.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Nicholas didn’t feel it.

His men stood behind their king, watching the most composed Alpha on the continent short-circuit in real time, and every last one of them had the good sense to keep their mouths shut.

Damon Tavian was the first of the Shadowfell men to take action.

"What the hell happened in here?"

His voice cracked the silence like a boot through thin ice. Heads turned. A few Betas recognized him instantly because Damon Tavian was the kind of Beta that had the respect of every single Beta in the room.

Beta Harwick of the Grimscar pack was three rows up, blade out, pointed at a man he’d never met, thoroughly enjoying himself. He spotted Damon and his face split into a grin so wide it was practically indecent.

"Damon fucking Tavian. You’re late. About goddamn time."

"Harwick. Why does it look like a tavern brawl fucked a political summit?"

Harwick jerked his chin toward the center of the floor where Tharos still had steel on Guinevere’s throat.

"He confronted her. She told him he was dumb."

Damon blinked. Looked at the drawn blades. Looked at the chaos. Looked at the girl.

DOMINO 45: THE FINAL BOSS WALKS INTO A KNIFE FIGHT

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