Chapter 11: If Only She Were My Granddaughter

"Dominic, hold your stride for a moment. I shall change my vestments and accompany your journey to her territory."

Suddenly, Matriarch Evelyn called out to the departing Alpha King. Her tone was absolute, carrying the unyielding weight of her supreme authority; she left him zero room for negotiation regarding her presence.

Dominic now found his dominant pride locked in a crushing vice. The Matriarch refused to grant him a single breath to clarify the situation, swiftly descending the grand staircase in her traveling garments and commanding him to ignite the engine at once.

"Matriarch, you appear to harbor a significant fondness toward her?"

Along the misty forest road, Dominic wrestled with his internal agitation before finally venturing to voice his suspicion.

He was intensely consumed with discovering whether Clara Thorne was merely a tactical pawn engineered by the old wolf to force a mating match upon his bloodline.

The moment he had breached his private quarters the previous night, he had telepathically commanded Gamma Logan to accelerate the intelligence report regarding her past.

Yet, Logan had responded with unprecedented evasion, offering a few clipped, distracted fragments before severing the mind-link entirely.

More than that, the elite warrior had failed to present himself at the Pack High Command throughout the entire cycle today!

That pup was clearly growing far too arrogant; he would ensure Logan endured a severe disciplinary trial at dawn.

The Matriarch cast a measuring look at her grandson, her voice carrying a smooth, ancestral resonance. "Indeed. Young Clara possesses striking features, and her reverence for our ancient traditions is immaculate. Within my judgment, she is a magnificent creature. If only she carried my own direct bloodline as a granddaughter!"

Dominic’s pulse faltered for a fraction of a second. Shouldn't she have designated her as a potential Luna instead?

But the absolute second that forbidden calculation materialized within his consciousness, a violent shock wave shattered his composure.

His inner wolf had instinctively substituted Clara Thorne into the sacred position of his eternal mate!

He had to be losing his sanity!

"Matriarch, I have declared my intentions across the pack bonds numerous cycles ago. My focus remains entirely locked on empire expansion, and I refuse to entertain a female's scent. Abstain from bringing unfamiliar vixens into my ancestral stronghold going forward."

Suffocating beneath his own guilt, his voice grew sharp and defensive as he attempted to solidify his stance before the old wolf, desperately projecting an aura of absolute indifference toward Clara's existence.

Evelyn remained silent, though her lips pressed into a knowing line as she offered a subtle, pitying shake of her head.

Ah. Her grandson was unmatched in military strategy, yet the exact hour his instincts cross-contaminated with matters of the heart, his perception degraded into absolute blindness!

His clumsy defensive maneuvers had been entirely transparent to her hawk-like vision from the very beginning; otherwise, she would never have forced her old frame into his armored transport tonight.

The Matriarch calculated with absolute certainty that Dominic must have unleashed some vile, arrogant threats that severely insulted the young female the previous midnight. Had she neglected to accompany his vanguard tonight, this foolish pup would have been barred from even catching a passing scent of Clara’s shadow at the border gates!

The exact second the fleet breached the perimeter of Hazel’s residential territory, Dominic requested the Matriarch remain within the secure, armored interior, but she violently rejected his counsel with a flat decree.

Relying on their sensory memory, the two elite entities traced the path to the heavy oak barrier and engaged the signal chime.

Across the threshold, inside the darkened living quarters, Clara was deeply immersed in a secure crystal-screen projection with her outer-realm enclave.

An elite collector required her immediate talent to evaluate a sacred bridal crown forged in the previous century. The master artisans within the company simply did not possess the spiritual vision to map its energy grids, waiting in absolute suspense for her consciousness to awaken before initiating this high-tier cross-border link.

Midway through the telepathic debrief, the sharp, aggressive chime of the entrance security grid shattered the silence.

Clara paused, her dark green eyes clouding with brief confusion. Hazel had communicated at dawn that the moment her pack tribunal concluded, she would redirect straight to the medical center to watch over Leo, allowing Clara to finalize her ledger before returning to the ward. Why had her ally returned to the den ahead of schedule?

With her intellect entirely locked within her professional grid, she completely overlooked the glaring flaw: Hazel possessed the master runic code to the threshold. Had it been her ally, the security chime would never have been engaged manually.

Uttering a brief briefing pause to her colleagues across the screen, Clara suspended the projection grid.

The exact hour she threw open the heavy oak barrier, her gaze collided directly with Dominic’s towering silhouette and the Matriarch's regal form. She froze entirely.

"Young Clara, has the hourglass deceived your senses? You have yet to robe yourself in formal garments for our feast."

Reading the absolute shock written across Clara’s pale features, Evelyn’s inner calculations were instantly verified: Dominic had catastrophically bungled the arrangement. A wave of profound aristocratic exasperation toward her grandson surged through her veins, yet her external mask remained flawlessly warm and maternal as she reached out to greet Clara.