All Chapters of WICKED PROVIDENCE: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

In that moment, Avery cast a discreet, pleading glance toward Ewing, her silver eyes shimmering with the unease of a trapped animal. She had no desire for the vanity of a Great Banquet; to her, it was a scent-trail that would only draw predators.Noticing her distress, Ewing subtly cleared his throat, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "Grand-Alpha, we must honor Avery’s own spirit in this," he interjected, his gaze lingering on her. "If her wolf is not at ease with such a display, perhaps we should let the moon pass in silence."Tyrone paused, his heavy brow furrowing as he weighed Ewing’s counsel. He saw the merit in shielding a pup who had already endured so much.Klein, however, smoothed the air with a silken tone. "That is true, but Avery is a soul of profound grace. She is not one to howl for attention; she is always overly concerned with the harmony of the pack. If we leave the choice to her, she will decline simply to avoid being a burden to the sentries and the staff

Nearby, Scarlett was bristling, her predatory instincts screaming that she had walked into a snare. Paul’s groveling posture before Tyrone only made the bile rise in her throat.She yanked the Ferelden noble into the shadows of a stone pillar. "I brought you here to show dominance, not to roll over like an omega," she hissed. "You are high-born. Tyrone is just a merchant who happens to have dens in Avalon. Why are you baring your throat to him? You should be asserting your rank."To her horror, Paul ripped his hand away, his eyes flashing with a cold, territorial anger. "What is wrong with your head? You expected me to insult a Patriarch like Nixon? Have you lost your wolf, or do you think I have?"Scarlett stared at him, her confidence fracturing. "Why are you cowering? You are a Noble of the High Court. Why do you fear a Silver Ridge Elder?"Paul jabbed a lethal finger toward her chest. "I thought you were a sharp-witted Luna, but you are just a vain scavenger. Tyrone wields more sh

All eyes snapped toward Avery.The daughter of the Nixon bloodline remained as still as a frozen lake, slowly shaking her head. A scout standing at her shoulder interpreted the silent movements of her hands. “I did not scent the riverbank this evening. Many sentries can testify that I retreated to my private den to retrieve my belongings.”Ewing immediately stepped into the light to shield her. “I vouch for Avery’s path. I handed her a relic myself, and she remained in my presence before returning to her quarters. She has no motive for such a hunt, nor did she witness the fall. We are chasing ghost-scents here. It is highly improbable that Victoria was shoved by kin.”“Why are we even baring teeth at Avery?” Klein joined the defense, his voice growing stern as he looked at the gathered nobles. “She and Victoria may have different temperaments, but they share the same moon. If anyone continues to howl these baseless lies, I will exile them from this territory myself!”Klein’s fierce de

“Even as a pup, your scent was so distinct. The entire pack, especially the High Alpha, has felt the void of your absence. When I look at this old capture-stone, I see the fierce little wolf you were destined to become. And look at this.”Ewing reached into his vest, extending a weathered parchment to Avery. “Your mother sent this to me across the borders cycles ago. She marked it for your eyes alone, but I held it in trust. I believe she wanted to leave you a guiding scent. I never dared to hope I’d place it in your hand myself.”Avery froze. The elegant, swirling script on the seal confirmed it—the mark of Siena Monroe. But why had her mother entrusted a Nixon heir with a message meant for her own blood?With a heart thundering like a stampede, Avery broke the wax. As her eyes traced the lines, the first tear splashed onto the page. It appeared Siena had scented this day coming. She knew the pull of the Silver Ridge would eventually draw Avery back to the Nixon den, and she had prep

To tell the truth, Victoria and Jennifer had been warned by the sanctuary sentries that the chamber was under a blood-seal for a private ritual, but Victoria had brushed the warning aside with the arrogance of a High-Blood Nixon.In the Silver Ridge, few dared to challenge a Nixon’s scent-claim, and while the High-Bloods were often cold, outright defiance of their presence was unheard of. Triumphant, Victoria bared her teeth at Avery, certain she had sniffed out a pathetic lie.“Avery, if you covet the relics of this hall, stop weaving phantoms. I might allow you to scavenge the leftovers once the Master Curator arrives to greet me,” Victoria sneered, her voice thick with the condescension of a dominant wolf.Jennifer added with a sharp flick of her tail, “She is beneath your pity, Victoria. Have the guards drag her to the gates. Her stray-scent is tainting my meditation.”the serene mask vanished from Avery’s face, her amber eyes turning to chips of frozen gold. She had maintained he