Page 48 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

Behind us, our convoy disperses, as my men fan out and create a perimeter. Trey exits quickly behind her, I can see the confusion on his face, Azalea said she never wanted to see Alpha Brock again, yet she climbs out of the car. Liam’s hand meets the door, shutting it also watching Azalea. Damian sends me a questioning look, one eyebrow arching, and all I can offer is a shrug. None of us expected her to get out of the car.

Her mood—volatile and fierce—wraps around me. It’s a swift change from the uncertainty that clouded her before, sharpened now into something potent. The sight of Alpha Dean and Alpha Brock has stirred a response in Azalea yet I can’t figure out what. Besides her clear anger, something else lays beneath the surface. They’ve unknowingly flipped a switch, and the current running through her is electric, demanding attention.

I watch, an observer, as she strides forward with a determination that has me shocked. There’s a grace to her anger, a beauty to the wrath that unfurls from her. Trey stays close, his presence both shield and support, while Liam scans the area with the focus of a hawk.

“Kyson,” Damian murmurs, a subtle tilt of his head toward Azalea, seeking guidance on this unplanned variable. I shake myhead slightly, a silent message to let this play out, I am curious to see what she will do.

She moves past me to the Pack house, and I follow. Not as her King now, but as the partner to a Queen stepping into her power, and the feeling through the bond tells me she is about to show them her title.

The gravel crunches under my boots as I approach Alpha Brock, who descends the steps with a hand outstretched. His greeting hangs in the air, but my senses are tuned to Azalea’s movements.

Alpha Brock’s practiced smile falters, his gaze sliding past my shoulder to where Azalea stands. “What a pleasant surprise,” he says, though his voice betrays him, a tremor of unease beneath the sly smile on his face.

Silence stretches for a heartbeat as Azalea’s presence commands attention. Her aura is magnificent, invisible and yet palpable, rushes out around us. His lips part, and Alpha Dean also pauses to stare at her. She stops beside me, and Alpha Dean’s hand shakes as he offers it to her.

“Alpha Dean,” Azalea’s voice slices through the tension, sharp and clear. Her hand dismisses his attempt at familiarity with a brisk wave, as though swatting away a bothersome insect. I hear Damian huff when she doesn’t take it and just stares at it like it is diseased.

“Lovely to see you again, Ivy,” he says, caution lacing his tone. The man is clearly shocked she isn’t the broken girl she once was.

A cold smile plays on Azalea’s lips. “That’s Queen Azalea, to you, Alpha. Now move,” she commands, her words leaving no room for argument. They trip over themselves trying to get out of her way as she brushes past the stunned Alphas, climbing the steps as if she owns them—and perhaps in this moment, she does.

They are left, mouths agape like fish out of water, their authority slipping through their fingers like sand. Liam, quick to react, darts up the steps, his hands deftly turning the knob and pulling open the front door.

I trail behind, my curiosity piqued by this new side of Azalea—this commanding presence that has seemingly emerged from the depths of her being. I am content to let this play out, to see how far she will take it. The Alphas, desperate to regain some semblance of control, stumble over themselves in their eagerness to please her.

“Would you care for some coffee or tea, my Queen?” Alpha Brock stammers, his voice betraying the uncertainty that swirls around us.

Azalea doesn’t respond verbally; her disdain is clear in the sharp tilt of her head, the curl of her lip.

“No,” Azalea’s voice is a whip-crack, decisive and cold. “I wouldn’t trust you not to spit in it!” she sneers.

“And we aren’t here to chat, we are here for…” She pauses, eyes flicking to me, and in that split second, I see a flicker of confusion.

‘Looking for all the rogue reports. And to go through their archives,’I supply through the mindlink, my voice steady in her head. She absorbs the information, nodding slightly—barely perceptible, but enough for me to know she understands.

The sudden fear that washes over the Alphas’ faces is almost palpable, I can’t help but revel in the way Azalea’s aura has them off-balance, the way her mere presence suddenly scares them like they used to scare her.

“I’m here to inspect the rogue reports and your archives,” she asserts, each word laced with the kind of authority that cannot be questioned.

Alpha Dean’s response is immediate. “We don’t keep such files, Iv…My Queen,” he stammers, the slip of the tongue betraying his nerves before he hastily corrects himself.

Azalea’s brow lifts ever so slightly, and I can’t help but feel a surge of pride at her poise, the way she embodies her role as my Queen.

From behind her, Trey’s lips pull into a knowing smirk. He leans closer, whispering a breath against her ear that only she can hear. I watch the exchange, curiosity nipping at me. Whatever he says draws her attention, and she gives him a quick nod, acknowledging his words while keeping her eyes fixed on the Alphas before her. They gape at her, and I can’t believe they had the audacity to lie when they have no issue trying to label her as a traitor.

“Your archives are kept in your basement. And you should have reports of every rogue that steps over your borders. If not, that is an infringement on your behalf, and if it is simply you refusing to hand them over that is punishable by death. Beheading sounds good?” she says, looking at me.

“As you wish, my Queen,” I answer.

“So which is it, you don’t have the archives I have requested, or you don’t want to hand them over? Either way, Alpha, you seem to find yourself in a direct violation of Lycan law and your next answer determines the severity of your punishment,” she says, staring at them both. I have no doubt Trey is feeding her laws through the mindlink. Both Alphas stumble over themselves to answer.

Alpha Dean’s hands twitch nervously, his eyes darting from Azalea to me and back again as he grapples for a semblance of control in the face of her unyielding demand. The air between us crackles with tension, each second stretching into an eternity as he formulates his response under the weight of Azalea’s piercing gaze.

“What we meant is that we haven’t dug them out,” Alpha Dean finally musters, his voice carrying the strain of one walking on the blade’s edge. “We weren’t aware of your arrival or the King’s. If you come back in a few days, we can have them ready.”

My lips press into a thin line, the scent of their anxiety palpable in the stillness of the room. Their ignorance of our presence doesn’t sit well with me; it’s a convenient excuse at best. I feel the anger simmering beneath my skin, but it’s Azalea’s cold composure that holds my focus.

Her eyes narrow ever so slightly, the silver flecks in her irises catching the light like shards of moonlight. Her stance remains statuesque, embodying the very essence of regal authority that seems to reach into the depths of the earth itself and command its obedience.

---