Filed To Story: Burn in the Alpha Princess's Wrath (Leslie and Kirby) Book PDF Free
Leslie’s POV
“Did you really think I’d actually drop it?” I looked at Kirby’s pale and furious face, and somehow, my mood improved. “Please. I paid thirty million for this thing. It’s not a lot, but I’m not about to throw my own money away just because a couple of pests got on my nerves.”
I gave a dismissive huff and turned on my heel, Skoll falling into step beside me as I walked in high heels toward the exit.
“Oh, right.” At the doorway, I suddenly turned around and addressed the festival organizers. “You offer top-level security for your buyers, don’t you? I mean, I just purchased an extremely valuable relic. If I were to get mugged by some sore loser the moment I step outside, I’m sure the Watcher Pack would have to take responsibility for that-right?”
I said sore loser clearly and deliberately.
As expected, Kirby’s face twisted like he’d swallowed a live cockroach.
The event’s security detail was activated instantly-over a dozen gamma-class warriors surrounded me protectively, glaring at Kirby and his defeated mother and sister with cold hostility.
And just like that, I walked out-poised, untouchable, like a queen flanked by her soldiers.
By the time my figure disappeared from sight, I could already imagine Belle clutching Kirby’s arm, begging him to fix this.
And Kirby-after brushing off whatever was left of his shattered pride-would turn away coldly and leave them to clean up their own disaster.
He wouldn’t be wrong.
You make a mess-you pay the price.
Back in Skoll’s sleek black sports car, he finally asked the question that had clearly been nagging at him.
…
“They really put something that important up for auction?”
“For vanity,” I said quietly, “werewolves are capable of anything.”
When we got back to the Governor’s Mansion, I casually placed the Ancestor’s Fang on the mantel above the fireplace, treating it no differently than a cheap decorative trinket.
I didn’t bother thinking about Kirby or his family’s reaction.
Because I knew-they’d come crawling back soon enough.
All I had to do now… was wait.
Wait for the big fish to swim straight into my net.
Leslie’s POV – Westview Office
Sure enough, the next day, Kirby’s assistant sent a message requesting a lunch meeting to “discuss the ownership of the Ancestor’s Fang.”
I had Liam reply directly: “No time. From now on, reject all meal invitations from Crimson Moon Pack without asking me.”
I wanted him to understand-he no longer even had the right to sit across a table and speak with me.
After being shut down, Kirby didn’t give up.
The following day, a lavish bouquet arrived at my office-over a hundred stalks of rare moonlight orchids, worth a small fortune.
The sender? Eric.
I glanced at the card, sighed, and told Liam to toss it into the incinerator.
But it seemed Kirby took Eric’s gesture… the wrong way.
On the third day, a massive rune-engraved iron cage was delivered to the Governor’s Mansion, inside of which thrashed a rare, living Icefield Yeti-captured by the Crimson Moon Pack’s elite hunting squad. The beast was presented as a gift-for me.
The entire mansion was in an uproar.
I stared at the creature, radiating cold fury inside its cage, then looked down at the handwritten apology letter from Kirby. All I felt was absurd amusement.
He really thought that giving me a rare beast could somehow make up for the sins of the three years? That clumsily copying Eric’s approach would change the way I saw him?
In front of everyone, I issued my order. past
“Slaughter the yeti. Have its pelt made into a rug for my throne room. Its meat goes to the patrol squads on duty tonight. As for its skull-send it back to Crimson Moon Pack. And let them know… the Alpha Kirby’s generosity is appreciated.”
Sending the bloodied skull back to Crimson Moon Pack wasn’t just symbolic-it was a fresh gallon of oil dumped onto an already burning fire.
The PackNet across the entire Westview continent exploded.
Every werewolf now knew: Governor Leslie of Rogue Pack and her ex-husband Kirby of Crimson Moon Pack were far beyond reconciliation.
After receiving the bloody skull, Kirby went completely silent.
No more messages. No more gifts.
I knew he had finally realized-no material offering could ever mean a thing to me.
The quiet suited me. I threw myself fully into the Moon Goddess Relic project.
Alan’s research was progressing quickly, and our collaboration had become seamless.
One day, after a long multi-hour video meeting, I felt drained.
To unwind, I logged into my long-neglected Moonbook account-a social platform with heavy influence among the upper circles of werewolf society.
I glanced at the Ancestor’s Fang sitting at the edge of my desk, carelessly used to weigh down a stack of documents. A sly smile crept across my face.
I picked up my terminal and snapped a close-up of the relic’s jagged surface-then uploaded it to my Moonbook profile with a short caption:
“Someone said this is a fang from some unknown beast. No idea if it’s real or not. Anyone know what this thing’s worth?”
By calling the Ancestor’s Fang “a fang from some unknown beast,” I was delivering an insult of the highest order.
I was telling everyone that the sacred relic Crimson Moon Pack worshiped as a treasure was, in my eyes, just a worthless trinket-so beneath me I couldn’t even be bothered to verify where it came from.
After posting it, I tossed the terminal aside and leaned back to rest.
I fell asleep just like that, totally unaware of the tidal wave my casual little post had just unleashed across the werewolf world.
Astrid and Eric immediately reshared it-each adding their own gloating reactions.
It didn’t take long for the post to reach Kirby’s circles.
I could already imagine the old Alpha of Crimson Moon Pack-staring at his family’s ancestral relic, now dismissed as “some worthless junk” by his former daughter-in-law-and fuming so hard he couldn’t even eat that night.
As for Belle and Slyvana… I had no doubt they caught more than a few slaps.
Leslie’s POV
Early the next morning, I sleepily picked up a call from Astrid.
“Girl! Check your Moonbook right now! Something huge just happened!”
“What is it?” I asked, still groggy.
“Your latest post-the one about the fang! Someone just offered fifty million credits in the comments! Leslie, if you sell it now, you’ll pocket a clean twenty mil!”