Page 49 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

“If I wanted you to dig them out and remove any incriminating evidence, we would have called prior,” she retorts sharply, her voice cutting through their excuses like a knife through shadow. “But seeing as your pack is under investigation for the mistreatment of rogues, I don’t want you handling any such evidence or giving you a chance to get rid of it completely.”

The Alphas stand before us, their bravado peeled away to reveal the vulnerability they had hoped to conceal. In this moment, the power dynamics have shifted irrevocably. Azalea, once a victim, now dictates the rules of engagement, and they know it.

“Mistreatment of rogues, my Queen. Whatever happened with Mrs. Daley, I assure you, your King has seen to her punishment,” he murmurs, his voice threading through the tension-charged silence.

Azalea’s gaze doesn’t waver, her eyes like frosted steel, unyielding and cold. She seems not to hear him, or perhaps she chooses not to acknowledge the excuse that falls so patheticallyshort of genuine remorse. The air around her crackles with her disregard for his pitiful defense.

“I would also like to see my files and Abbie’s. So if you can point me in the direction of your basement, that will be very helpful,” she commands, her voice resonant with authority that leaves no room for argument.

I feel the shift in the room, a palpable change as the power firmly roots itself in Azalea’s grasp. Alpha Brock’s face tautens, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The telltale sign of a man unaccustomed to being cornered, especially not by someone he once deemed beneath him. With a stiff nod, almost imperceptible, he motions down the hall, conceding to her demand with a visible twitch of irritation.

Azalea’s footsteps echo in the hall, each step measured yet still, she manages to look graceful. The tension coils around us as we approach the door next to the staircase.

Alpha Brock’s fingers curl around the handle, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he swings the door open with a reluctance that seeps into the stale air beyond. His gaze flickers to his father, seeking silent counsel or perhaps drawing from a well of shared unease.

“May we ask what you are looking for exactly?” Alpha Brock’s voice is a strained thread of composure. “Most of the files down here are outdated and are of no use to anybody.”

A cold draft snakes out from the darkness behind the door. Azalea doesn’t flinch. She looks back at me, like she is asking permission, and I nod subtly. This is her show; I am merely the witness to her command.

“Outdated or not, they hold relevance to us,” she adds, her voice resonant with the power that has shifted so visibly in her favor.

Alpha Brock swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He seems to shrink ever so slightly under her scrutiny. Damian watches him closely, an unspoken warning clear in his stance.

“Step aside,” Damian commands, his voice brooking no argument, and for a moment, Alpha Brock hesitates.

“We can show you down. It will be easier if we help, and ...” Alpha Brock begins, but his offer dies in his throat as Azalea growls—a low, guttural sound that reverberates off the narrow walls and chills the air. Her aura surges forward, invisible yet palpable, a wave of suppressed fury that crashes against him.

I watch as he falters, his back pressing into the wall, his authority crumpling like paper caught in the wind. Azalea’s voice slices through the tension, sharp and commanding. “You heard my Beta. Now step aside, Alpha.” Her sneer is a thing of terrifying beauty, laced with a venom that leaves no room for challenge. The Alpha before us, a man of power in his own right, looks as if he’s swallowed a stone. His Adam’s apple bobs in a nervous gulp, his authority dissolving under her gaze.

Compliance is swift; the Alpha retreats, stepping away with haste. Liam descends into the darkness first to check if it’s safe. A signal from below lets us know it’s all clear.

Azalea’s eyes find mine, the connection between us pulsing like a living entity. I sense her request before the words form in my mind, her will pressing against my consciousness.‘Go on. If you want to take over, I won’t stop you,’I say through our bond, granting her the freedom to as she pleases, and she starts moving into the basement.

I stroll past the Alphas when Alpha Dean stops me.

“Are we in trouble, my King?” he asks.

“That’s for her to decide,” I respond curtly, the words slicing through any hope he harbors, and I can’t help but smirk at the fear emanating off them as I follow my mate.

Chapter

Twenty-Six

AZALEA

The basement is stacked to the ceiling with boxes of files, no order, nothing, just boxed and stacked. I do not know what I am looking for, and I have no clue where to even start. Damian comes up behind me, leading me to a table in the center and flicking a small lamp on.

“I’m sorry, I stuck my nose in. It made me mad when I saw them,” I admit to him. I am unsure where my bravado came from. Probably from seeing my old Alphas ticked off, returned the favor for all the times they made me feel less than dirt.

“No, you did well,” Damian says when Kyson comes down the steps. I wait to see if he is mad that I kind of just took over when I was supposed to remain in the car with Trey. I wasn’t supposed to step foot in here at all. Yet when he comes down the last step, he has a silly smile on his face as he strolls over to me.

“Ah, this will take forever,” Liam growls, rifling through boxes. Kyson comes over, places his hands on my hips, and buries his face in my neck. But Liam is right. This will take days to go through.

“So, what do you want to do now?” Kyson asks, and I look up at him.

“Pardon?” I whisper.

“You’re in charge, boss. So what now?” he asks, brushing his nose across my cheek. I gasp, looking around. Kyson purrs behind me then taps my hip with his hand and wanders about the huge basement before stopping.

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