CHAPTER 240: LANDED A HIT

(Third Person).

Wanda’s eyes lit up the moment she saw him. "Draven," she said smoothly, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she was preparing for a performance. "I assume Dennis already told you—"

"Send the full footage to me," Draven said, cutting in, his voice calm and deep. "I will keep it on file," he added.

Wanda stiffened slightly. That wasn’t the tone she expected.

Her eyelashes fluttered. "That’s it?" she asked, her voice rising slightly. "You’re not going to do anything about it?"

Draven’s gaze didn’t shift. "Keep doing what you did. Kill any human who tries to attack you. And make sure you get more evidence like this. The more they slip, the easier it is for us to end the treaty."

Wanda sat back, her lips parting in quiet disbelief. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Not even a simple:

Are you okay? Were you hurt?

But Draven didn’t give her the chance to speak again.

"The monthly meeting with our people will be held the night after I return to Duskmoor," he said, eyes briefly flicking to Dennis offscreen.

Wanda’s nails curled into her arm. That was the final blow—he wasn’t even going to check if she needed anything. His attention was already elsewhere.

"Understood," Dennis said aloud, stepping forward.

Without another word, the call ended, and the screen went black. Silence hung for a second.

Dennis placed his glass down with a quiet clink and turned to her. "You see? You were making a big deal out of this. It’s not like you’re the first werewolf the humans have attacked."

Wanda’s eyes flared. She shoved her chair back, heels clicking furiously as she stood. "Bastard," she hissed under her breath.

Dennis raised an eyebrow, amused. "And I suppose you are the bitch?"

Wanda stormed out of the study, the door slamming shut behind her with a loud crack that echoed down the corridor.

As she marched back to her wing of the estate, her chest rose and fell with tight fury. She felt humiliated, dismissed, and invisible.

And she knew exactly who to blame.

"That seductive whore," she snarled, venom in her voice. "It’s all because of her. He’s so distracted by Meredith, he doesn’t even care about his own people anymore."

She didn’t care that her words echoed off the walls. She didn’t even care if others heard her and reported her.

She was far too angry and disappointed to be mindful of her words or actions right now.

For now, she only cared that one day, Draven would see that she was the right person for him and not that hopeless, wolfless, rude girl named Meredith, even if she was a piece on his chessboard.

---

~A few Hours Later~

The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm amber glow across the estate as Meredith and Dennis walked side by side toward the training grounds.

Meredith, stretching her arms behind her head, glanced sideways at Dennis. "I saw Wanda earlier," she said casually, "and, honestly, she looked like someone was force-feeding her gravel."

Dennis let out a bark of laughter. "That bad, huh?"

"She looked like she could chew through steel."

"Well," Dennis said, tone laced with amusement, "probably because she’s pissed. The Humans attacked her at a mall this morning. Five of them. Armed."

Meredith’s steps slowed slightly. "And she fought them off?"

"Killed them all," Dennis replied with a shrug. "You know Wanda. She might be a pain, but she’s not weak."

Meredith blinked. "Five armed attackers..."

Dennis nodded. "Yup. We had a quick video call with Draven right after lunch. She tried to play it up, expecting—I don’t know—sympathy or something. But Draven just told her to keep killing any Human that lays a finger on her and to collect more evidence."

Meredith grinned. "Let me guess—she didn’t like that answer."

Dennis chuckled. "Oh, she was livid. Probably expected some grand show of concern. But my brother? He’s got no time for dramatics."

They reached the edge of the training grounds soon. The sky above burned orange and crimson, streaked with the last of the day’s sunlight.

Dennis clapped his hands once. "Alright, challenge of the evening, land a hit on me. Just one."

Meredith smirked and bounced on the balls of her feet. "Just one? Sounds easy."

Dennis raised a brow. "Then earn it."

A few moments later, they began.

Dennis was quick and sneaky as usual. He darted around her attacks like water slipping through fingers, using his footwork and well-timed feints to keep her constantly adjusting.

But Meredith wasn’t just reacting this time; she was watching. Learning. Each dodge, each spin, each shift in his stance... she was absorbing it all.

Dennis grinned as he slid past another of her strikes. "Come on, Meredith. That’s all you got?"

But he didn’t see the slight twitch of her shoulder as she pivoted. He didn’t expect her to feint left and follow through with her right.

Her fist connected—solidly—with his cheek. The sound echoed slightly in the quiet training grounds.

Dennis staggered back a step, wide-eyed. "You—"

Meredith’s hands shot into the air in triumph. "Yes! I did it!"

Dennis touched the spot on his face, blinking. "You caught me off guard. I got distracted."

"Oh, please," Meredith laughed. "Make all the excuses you want, it doesn’t change the fact that your face got hit."

Dennis gave her a mock glare. "You’re not going to tell Draven, are you?"

"I absolutely am," Meredith said smugly. "But you still owe me the ice cream for this hit first."

He sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if I get you two plates instead of one, can we just forget this ever happened?"

Meredith folded her arms. "Nope. You can keep the extra plates. I’m still telling your brother. I’m not just fighting you for the fun of it. I want him to be proud of me, too."

Dennis groaned as he massaged his cheek. "Ugh, so now my reputation is really at stake."

She smirked, giving him a good glance. "You should have thought of that before underestimating me."

He straightened up. "One rematch. Come on."

Meredith laughed and started backing away. "Our evening session is over. Sorry, Dennis."

"Meredith—"

She was already turning on her heel, jogging away with a grin stretched across her face. "See you at dinner! I have to phone my husband now!"

Dennis stood there in the dust, rubbing his jaw with a crooked smile.

"Damn," he muttered to himself. "She’s starting to fight like a real wolf."