A Female Alpha’s Revenge (Adelaide) novel Chapter 677

**TITLE: Novel Male 677**
**Chapter 677**

In a dimly lit room, the tension was palpable, and the air was thick with Rosemary’s frustration. Her voice, rough and raw, cut through the silence like a jagged blade. “Doesn’t this just confirm everything the public has been saying about me being cruel to my sons’ mates?” The accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“It’s going to be impossible for Simon and Wilmot to find new mates now!” she continued, her agitation growing with each word. The more she spoke, the faster her breath came, her anxiety spilling over like a shaken bottle of soda. Her pheromones filled the room, a wild, chaotic mix of fear and anger. “It’s all ruined! The Bloodmoon Pack’s reputation is completely gone! This might even hurt Ulrik’s career—if Lycan Erasmus’s personal guard captain is under scrutiny, how will the council view him?”

Rosemary’s voice cracked as she cried out, her hysteria echoing off the walls, yet not a single tear fell for Tamara. It was clear to anyone watching that her grief was not for the loss of a life but rather for the fallout that would inevitably tarnish her own image and that of the pack.

The following day, the grim news reached the Blackthorn-Pack, sending ripples of shock through their ranks. It was a holiday, a day meant for celebration, and Lance and Adelaide had plans to pick up Cedric from the academy for a special lunch together. The scent of pine and the lingering aroma of young wolf still clung to Lance’s freshly dried jacket, a reminder of the carefree moments they had shared.

Suddenly, Paisley burst into the room, her face devoid of color, and the gravity of her news was evident. “Tamara… she’s gone,” she stammered, her voice shaking. “I got the information from Wendy, who heard it from Bloodmoon.”

Adelaide’s mind went blank, a heavy fog settling over her thoughts as disbelief washed over her. “She hanged herself? Totally… couldn’t save her?” The words felt foreign and surreal as they left her lips.

“She’s dead,” Paisley confirmed, her voice barely above a whisper. She sank into a chair, still visibly shaken. Her nose felt congested, and an inexplicable sadness tugged at her heart. “She was the one we risked our necks for at the river. Adelaide took that chance to save her, and Lance gave her hell for it afterward.”

Lance’s expression darkened, shadows crossing his features. “Why? Why did this happen?” The weight of the situation pressed heavily on him. He may not have known all the internal details, but he was acutely aware that Adelaide had saved Tamara after that desperate leap.

Logic dictated that once her life was spared, the Bloodmoon Pack should have protected her fiercely.

How could they have allowed things to spiral so far out of control?

A frustrated curse escaped Paisley’s lips, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I heard that after they brought her back from Digby Medical Center, that vicious old woman—Rosemary—forced her to kneel in the front yard. From dawn until dusk.”

Lance’s face twisted into a grimace, the wolf within him bristling with unrest. “Forced to kneel?”

“Yes!” Paisley replied, her voice rising with indignation. “In the middle of the night, Barbara got up and found her hanging right outside Rosemary’s bedroom door.”

“Are these people insane? A woman who just tried to kill herself—and they punished her by making her kneel?” The gravity of the situation settled heavily on them, a dark cloud of despair enveloping the room.

Suicide. It was a choice that stemmed from a place of utter hopelessness, a deep despair that pushed a she-wolf to the brink.

Adelaide remained silent, her fingers gripping the fabric of her sleeve tightly, her knuckles turning white as she fought to contain her emotions. The sadness was so profound it felt as if it could swallow her whole.

Tamara’s choice to hang herself instead of fleeing was not surprising to her; to leave the Bloodmoon Pack meant she would be utterly alone, with no options left.

She was timid, fearful, and devoid of any family or allies to support her. In essence, she was a she-wolf who would have no idea where to turn once she stepped outside the confines of her pack.

If there had been any other way, who would willingly choose death?

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