Burn in the Alpha Princess's Wrath novel Chapter 64

Chapter 64 The Price of the Past

Kirby’s POV – Crimson Moon Pack Headquarters

Father returned from Westview.

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No roaring. No outbursts. Just a deep, soul–crushing exhaustion that clung to him as he locked himself away in the family chamber.

A heavy silence blanketed the entire Crimson Moon Pack territory.

I knew then–he had failed.

The Ancestor’s Fang, the very symbol of our Pack’s legacy, was still in her hands.

“Alpha Kirby…” Malach, my chief aide, stepped in cautiously. There was hesitation and conflict written across his face.

“What is it?” My voice was hoarse, thick with defeat.

“It’s about Miss Leslie…” Malach took a breath, summoning his courage. “There are some things I think you ought to know.”

He placed an old camera on my

desk.

“These are daily records from the past three years–arranged by Miss Leslie, through me. You once told me that these little matters didn’t need to be reported.”

Frowning, I opened the files.

The contents were trivial–mundane, even. But they hit like a blade to the gut.

March 7th: Alpha departs for Northern Mountain Range for the winter hunt. Miss Leslie delivered a custom–blended cold–resistance salve, instructing that it be packed with your gear. She noted your old leg injury may flare up in extreme cold.

May 20th: Alpha to attend negotiations with Rock Pack. Miss Leslie provided high–energy snacks laced with calming herbs. She said long negotiations often trigger your migraines, and this would help.

September 3rd: Your birthday. Miss Leslie spent the day preparing food at the estate, but you didn’t come back. She had me pack the dishes and deliver them to the guard station the next day. She said they shouldn’t go to waste.

One by one. Over and over.

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Chapter 64 The Price of the Past

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All those “trivial matters” I told Malach to keep off my radar–every single one pierced through me now like a knife.

I had always thought her feelings for me were just cold, contractual obligations.

I never realized that beneath that cold surface… was something humble, silent, and heartbreakingly sincere.

And I–through arrogance and neglect–had personally tossed that sincerity into the abyss.

“Alpha…” Malach’s voice came again, slightly trembling now. “Just now… Mr. Alan from Apex Industries sent a message. He’s requesting a three–party meeting with you and Governor Leslie at their headquarters. It’s about the next phase of the Moon Goddess Relic project.”

I looked up, bloodshot eyes wide.

I knew–Alan was giving me an opportunity.

Maybe my last one.

Leslie’s POV – Apex Industries Headquarters

Inside Alan’s meeting room, the air was cold as the Northern Wastes.

Kirby sat across from me, looking more worn out and broken than I had ever seen him.

“Leslie,” he said quietly, his voice raw, “I’m sorry.”

I lifted my teacup, gently blew at the tea leaves floating on the surface. I didn’t say a word.

His apology meant even less to me than the wind howling outside the window.

“I know,” he went on, struggling to find his words, “there’s nothing I can say that will undo the pain I caused you over the past three years.” He took a deep breath, like it was costing him everything to keep speaking. “But the Ancestor’s Fang… means everything to our Pack. Please— name your price.”

I set the cup down and finally looked him in the eye,

“Alright.” I smiled, but it was a smile with no warmth.

“My price is simple.”

“Crimson Moon Pack will withdraw from the Moon Goddess Relic project.”

“What?!” Kirby’s head snapped up, staring at me in disbelief.

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Chapter 64 The Price of the Past

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“I said,” I repeated slowly, each word an icepick to his chest, “your Crimson Moon Pack will give up all rights, all resources, and all future profits related to this project. Trade your Pack’s future… to reclaim its past.”

“Do you

think that’s a fair deal?”

He stared at me, pain carved deep into his features.

The Ancestor’s Fang symbolized Crimson Moon Pack’s history, its former glory.

But the Moon Goddess Relic project–that was the future. Innovation, alliances, legacy.

I wanted him to choose.

I wanted him to feel the burn of being forced to decide what mattered more–what was lost… or what might still be saved.

“I…” He finally spoke, each word like a stone dragged through gravel. “I can’t.”

“Good.” I stood, slipped on my coat, and gave him a smile. This time, it reached my eyes.

“Then we have nothing more to talk about.”

Send Gifts

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18:57 Tue, Sep 16

Burn in the Alpha Princess’s Wrath