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Home / Werewolf / WICKED PROVIDENCE / Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

All Chapters of WICKED PROVIDENCE: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

144 Chapters

51

The cold stone of the Montgomery Manor offered no comfort, and as Avery stood lost in the haunting echoes of the previous night, Tessa Greene—the young servant who had survived the staircase—slowed her pace."Luna?" Tessa whispered.Avery lifted her gaze, her fingers moving in the fluid, sharp language of the silent: How does your wolf feel? Does the bruising still sting the bone?Tessa offered a small, grateful smile. "The aches are fading. Hudson sent Dr. Ryan Mercer to tend to me personally. He even said that if my internal shifting is hindered, he’ll escort me to the healers at the Great Cathedral himself."Avery nodded, her expression unreadable. She signed a quick correction: Call me Avery. The title of Luna feels like a silver collar these days.Tessa bit her lip, glancing toward the Alpha’s study. "I do not think the Alpha is as frozen as he seems, Avery. He didn't have to keep me on. If he truly worshipped Madison Clarke, he would have cast me out to the rogue lands for defyi

52

"The Omega’s heart is as black as her wolf is weak," a high-born female sneered, her voice carrying over the crackle of the hearth."Truly. She bewitched the Alpha into a Mate-Contract, likely using Old Harrison’s failing mind to trap Hudson into the bond," another whispered, swirling a glass of fermented lunar nectar."Her scent was all over the pack-link for weeks—the 'Mute Outcast'—and then, silence. A Northern Prince must be scrubbing her trail.""And now she slinks into the Simpson Archive. A dormant wolf at a High-Blood gala? She’s clutching a forged sigil. How utterly pathetic."The biting winds of the Silver Ridge seemed warmer than the mockery stinging Avery’s ears. She paled, her fingers curling into her palms until her dull claws drew blood.She replayed the morning in her mind. Three invitations had been delivered to the Montgomery Manor. Hazel had sorted them by scent and seal. Hazel was a loyal Beta, but she lacked the predatory instinct to detect a masked forgery.The r

53

Madison Clarke was mid-sentence when Rachel Simpson cut her off, her brow furrowed with the sharp irritation of a high-ranking wolf."Enough," Rachel commanded, her voice vibrating with authority. "This is a matter for the Simpson Archive alone. Even if that silent girl has overstepped the boundaries of our territory, I will not have my lineage used as a blunt instrument for your petty grudges."Madison let out an awkward, high-pitched laugh, her scent spiking with momentary fear. "Of course, Rachel. You always were the most balanced of our cycle."The Great Hall of the Archive was a hive of activity, thick with the musky scent of a hundred powerful wolves. Many were not subtle about their disdain for Avery Monroe, their whispers like the snapping of dry twigs. Avery steeled her spirit, reminding herself that she was a daughter of the Silver Ridge, even if her wolf remained dormant. She had not expected to find an ally in the crowd, until Blake Donovan appeared.The Northern Alpha app

54

Avery stood frozen, her amber eyes widening as she stared at Hudson. A chaotic storm of surprise and confusion swirled within her scent. Why was the Alpha of the Silver Ridge—the man who had treated her like a ghost in her own den—suddenly baring his teeth in her defense?It clicked into place a moment later. The Montgomery pride. She was the Luna of his pack by blood-contract, however hollow. If the high-ranking families saw her humiliated, it would be a stain on the Montgomery lineage that no amount of ritual washing could cleanse.Rachel Simpson approached Avery with hesitant, heavy steps. Her face was flushed, the heat of embarrassment radiating from her skin. "I... I ask for your pardon, Avery. I misread your trail. Regarding the summons, I assumed you had used a dark-shifter to forge my seal for some petty gain."As Rachel spoke, her voice dropped to a mere whisper. It was an absurd thought. Avery was a Monroe—ancient blood, even if dormant. Why would she risk a clumsy forgery j

55

Avery swept a sharp, resolute gaze across the Archive. Her hands moved with a jagged, silver-tongued intensity, her communication stone flashing the message: "If there is a drop of doubt regarding this memory-stone, I invite the High Sentinels of the Council to put every flicker of it under a magnifying glass. I am ready for the law of the Ridge to weigh my truth."Rachel Simpson stood paralyzed. She glanced at Madison, the silence in the hall vibrating like a taut bowstring.Madison, consumed by a feral panic, lunged from behind Rachel. Her hand lashed out, delivering a stinging slap that echoed like a crack of thunder. "You lying Omega! This is a hex! None of this is real! Avery, how could you stoop so low as to forge a memory?"Avery staggered, her head snapping to the side from the force of the blow. She cradled her burning, reddened cheek, but her eyes remained as cold as a winter moon. She raised her stone, her mechanical voice cutting through the gasps of the crowd: "Stoop low?

56

As Hudson prowled closer, the low vibration of his growl was felt more than heard. He caught the tail end of Rachel’s probing question: “Only kindness?”Hudson’s breath hitched, his golden eyes narrowing as he locked onto Avery.Avery remained motionless, a silhouette of silver and shadow against the ancient stone of the Simpson Archive. She lifted her gaze, a weary but peaceful smile touching her lips. Her communication stone spoke for her: “Yes, Lady Rachel. Only the kindness one shows a stray pup taken in from the cold. I once mistook the heat of the pack-bond for something more… intimate. It was a foolish error of a dormant wolf. But do not trouble yourself. I have found my own path now.”Avery had finally severed the phantom tether. She saw the road ahead; it led away from the Silver Ridge, away from the brutal hierarchy that demanded she be "fixed" or "mated." She would bury her unrequited love for the Alpha in the deepest trenches of the frozen peaks.Unseen by the women, Hudso

57

Avery approached the final relic-weaver’s den in the Silver Ridge.Tucked away in a cavernous alcove of the market, the shop of ancient pelts and lunar-spun silks had stood for generations. It was the hour of the fading sun, the time when the pack-sentries changed shifts, and the shop was nearly hollow.The mistress of the den was a striking wolf, her silver-grey fur sleek even in her human form, radiating a cold, predatory beauty. Avery had scented her reputation through the pack-link: Molly Evans, a high-born artisan who had once rejected the Montgomery’s own weavers.Avery held up her communication stone, detailing her need to learn the "Shadow-Stitch"—the only way to save the Simpson burial silks. She offered a pouch of rare moon-stones as payment for Molly’s time and tutelage.Molly looked Avery up and down, her golden eyes piercing. She let out a sharp, melodic bark of laughter. "I have no use for your stones, little Monroe."Avery’s spirit flickered. Was she being exiled again?

58

Avery stood there, her chest heaving in silent indignation. How could a pup raised in the shadow of the Silver Ridge—a place that preached bloodline purity—be so utterly devoid of basic lupine decency?At that moment, Wade Mason looked as though he wished the earth would swallow him whole.Hudson’s expression turned to jagged stone. His next words were a death knell for Wade’s standing in the hierarchy. "If your cub can howl such filth, it is a reflection of the rot in your own den. You have dared to let him insult the Luna in my presence. I can only imagine the poison you spread when my back is turned. Therefore, I am granting you an indefinite 'leave' from the Montgomery Sentinels to focus on your family’s lack of discipline."This "leave" was a death sentence to Wade’s career. In a world where Rank was everything, he had just been cast into the shadows.But Hudson wasn't finished. "It seems you struggle with the social scent of the Silver Ridge. Perhaps it is because your blood ori

59

Avery watched the Alpha’s silhouette through the steam of the kitchen, her spirit a tangled thicket of confusion. Never in her cycles within the Silver Ridge had she envisioned the high-born Hudson Montgomery deigning to touch a cooking hearth. His sudden shift to benevolence was a jagged pill to swallow. Perhaps his wolf felt the sting of shame for how Madison Clarke had desecrated her chambers, and this was his way of offering a blood-restitution. Yet, to Avery, such peace offerings were seasons too late.To her shock, Hudson produced a spread fit for a post-hunt feast. Expecting charred meat, Avery was genuinely stunned by the aromatic elegance of the dishes.Hudson sat across from her, his own plate empty. "Eat," he urged, his voice raspy, vibrating with an awkwardness he tried to mask with Alpha authority. His golden eyes tracked every movement of her shadow.Tentatively, Avery tasted the elk-steak. It was exquisite, the herbs perfectly balanced. She gave a small, stiff nod of ap

60

Harper Bennett leaned back in the plush, fur-lined chair of Avery’s private sanctuary, her eyes glowing with a frantic, emerald light. "Avery, the pack-link is howling! You’ve shifted the entire social climate of the Silver Ridge while you were sleeping."Avery froze, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. In a world where the Montgomerys controlled the narrative, any attention was usually a prelude to a hunt. She braced herself for the scent of a new scandal.Harper didn't wait; she pressed a glowing obsidian slate into Avery's hands.As the images flickered to life, Avery felt the tension in her shoulders snap. It wasn't a condemnation. The photos Molly Evans had captured—the ones where Avery looked like a Lunar Goddess draped in ancient, starlit pelts—had become a viral sensation across the territory. Molly had kept the name hidden, but the recent Simpson exhibition had allowed the pack’s keenest trackers to put a scent to the face.The comments section was a sto

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