Reaper 235
Burn in the Alpha Princess’s Wrath
Chapter 235 The Photograph
Leslie’s POV
It felt like I was walking through a dream.
Adler’s eyes
Why?
:
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held no trace of jest. They were calm, steady, filled with a sincerity that shook me.
A thousand questions erupted inside me, yet long training kept my face composed, betraying nothing.
Could it be… because of Eren?
The banquet dissolved with startling simplicity. Adler spoke a few closing words, and one by one the Alphas excused themselves. The grand event ended in quiet shock.
When the last of them had left, only three of us remained: Adler, Kirby, and me.
I stayed, determined to pull answers from this. Kirby too lingered, unwilling to leave me alone in Adler’s presence.
Adler’s smile was warm, disarming. “Princess of Rogue Pack, I know you must have questions. Rest assured, my words tonight were no casual promise. My people will reach out to your Pack for formal negotiations.”
I met his gaze directly. “Why? Why did you choose Rogue Pack?”
Every envoy I had sent before had been turned away without hesitation. Why accept now?
Adler hesitated, then spoke softly. “I did not choose Rogue Pack.” His eyes lingered on me, rich with unguarded admiration. “I chose you.”
That gentle clarity, stripped of calculation, jolted my chest.
My lips parted. “Because of… Eren?”
His laugh was low, faint. “Of course not.”
Before I could press him, Kirby’s voice cut in, rough and low, trembling with the weight of contained fury, “Then why, Alpha Adler? Why look at Leslie that way?”
Adler turned his gaze to him, something unreadable flickering in the depths. “I thought Alpha Kirby might have already understood.”
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Chapter 235 The Photograph
Kirby’s eyes narrowed. “Understood what?”
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“I had intended this project for Crimson Moon Pack,” Adler said evenly. “But once Princess Leslie appeared, it was clear–she is more suited than you.”
With that, he rose. At a quiet word, a guard hurried from the room.
“Please wait,” Adler told us, his smile returning.
Moments later, the guard returned with a heavy album, offering it up with both hands. Adler opened it with deliberate care, withdrawing two photographs–one for me, one for Kirby.
Our eyes met briefly in shared confusion before dropping to the images.
The moment I saw what lay in my hands, ice spread through my fingertips. My body went rigid.
The nightmare scene unfolded on paper:
Three years ago. The European streets drenched in panic. The sudden bloodbath when a pack of feral, maddened blood–wolves erupted without warning.
Screams tangled with roars. Blood slicked the cobblestones. People shifted without reason, neighbors sprouting claws and fangs before tearing into one another.
I had run with the crowd, lungs burning, heart pounding. The claws that raked the air behind me felt close enough to shear the breath from
my throat.
And then I saw him.
A golden–haired boy, no more than four or five, frozen in terror at the center of it all. The madness surged around him, and he could not move.
Without thought, I had turned.
I hurled myself toward him just as a massive blood–crazed wolf lunged. Its fetid breath blasted my face; its killing intent promised certain death.
I had thought that moment was the end.
But then a chest like a wall of stone crashed over me, shielding me. The world split into a cyclone of claws and blood as he fought, cutting down beasts in a storm of violence.
I was spared. He was drenched in gore.
And then–he vanished into the chaos.
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Chapter 235 The Photograph
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But I had seen his face. One glance burned into me, etched so deeply I had never dared recall it. To remember was to feel that wild heartbeat again, to risk softening, to lose myself.
The photo captured it mercilessly: me reaching for the boy, the wolf descending, my face a mask of desperation.
The coppery reek of blood seemed to rise again, curling in my nostrils, dragging the terror back from where I’d buried it.
And now Adler was watching, calm as ever.
And I could not breathe.
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