Chapter 32: Who Has Time to Bother With You

Both Clara and Dominic experienced a sharp physiological jolt, their sensory nodes simultaneously tracking through the transparent quartz screen of the armored fleet.

An Elder Eldress riding a common mechanical two-wheeled transport had violently collapsed onto the frost-dusted terrain, her frame completely devoid of conscious biological frequency.

"My vanguard shall descend to inspect the perimeter. Your system has just broken through a severe toxic seizure; remain anchored inside the cabin." Searing tension locked Clara’s throat as she forced the heavy barrier open to breach the winter storm.

Advancing upon the coordinate, she decoded that the collapsed Eldress had locked her vision nodes shut, her facial planes cast in an ashen gray shade, her respiratory cycle rapidly dissolving into the ether.

"Establish emergency frequency 120! A high-ranking Elder has suffered a catastrophic collapse during transit, the presentation aligns with a sudden cardiovascular failure; execute an immediate high-speed vanguard dispatch to these coordinates!"

Clara scanned the perimeter; the Elder’s flesh bore zero external lacerations, and the ground was coated only in a pristine layer of fresh twilight snow, rendering the probability of a physical impact causing the blackout mathematically impossible.

"The geographical coordinates... hold the line for a single pulse."

The moment the triage operators demanded their exact tactical positioning, Clara’s processing nodes jammed; surveying the perimeter, she was marooned amidst a sea of identical cyber-structures and high-rise monoliths, unable to harvest a single distinct geographical landmark.

Forced to retreat, she marched back to tap against the quartz shield of the fleet, signaling the interior. "Dominic Vance, decode these tactical coordinates. The emergency medical rescue requires our position."

The dark alchemical matrix Anna had infused into his system was far from spent; Dominic’s muscular frame remained flooded with a scalding, feverish heat, stripped of baseline power, yet forcing his sovereignty to lower the quartz screen, he rasped: "Southeastern Trial Road, Number 28. The grand crossroads directly framing the Twin Glint Sector."

Witnessing the shattered equilibrium of his stark profile, Clara’s inner wolf refused to abandon his safety, voicing an added command across the frequency: "Furthermore, my vanguard commands a secondary target at these coordinates; his biological matrix is highly unstable, presenting severe internal contamination from an unknown toxic substance. Dispatch a double cleansing unit to secure his recovery."

Ultimately, the medical enforcers hoisted both the dying Elder and the poisoned Lycan King onto the rescue transport, Clara tracking their lifelines inside the command bay—the exact sequence Lady Anna intercepted from her distant transport capsule.

Deep within the medical fortress, the alchemists harvested blood samples from Dominic’s veins; though the precise molecular compound of the dark-market drug eluded their charts, administering several fluid seals of pure counter-toxins successfully stabilized his system.

Yet throughout the purification watch, his dominant beast launched an aggressive campaign of high-maintenance demands—alternating between ordering heated spring water and commanding extra heavy furs to combat a phantom chill—forcing Clara to navigate his bedside in an absolute circle of exhaustion.

"Does your frame command the power to stand upright, Alpha King?" Clara finally exhaled a massive sigh of relief as the final fluid seal drained and the medical attendant extracted the silver needle from his vein; his behavior was an absolute mirror of Leo tracking a sickness cycle!

Yet Leo was a tender pup of three winters; regardless of his advanced mental prowess, he was biologically a child. Dominic Vance was a matured monarch of the realm, yet his internal engine projected the exact spoiled tantrums of an elite scion.

"Affirmative. My spirit records a profound debt for the watch your presence maintained over my flesh."

Dominic easily intercepted the dense spikes of impatience radiating from Clara's aura; slowly rising to his full towering height, he intentionally turned his pale, structurally perfect profile to catch the light, projecting a fragile vulnerability before securing the primary inquiry: "Does my vanguard command the sovereignty to escort Leo to the outer wilderness tomorrow? A fresh amusement territory has cleared its borders."

"Permission granted. Yet that chaotic habit where the pup projectively roars your title... that baseline defect requires an immediate, absolute correction." Clara’s internal shields softened despite her tactical calculations; after all, Leo’s mind-link had endlessly panted to track that specific amusement park, yet her own system suffered an absolute, hardwired fear of high altitudes, rendering her incapable of running adjacent to him on the gravity-defying mountain tracks.

Securing her formal treaty, Dominic's inner beast achieved absolute stabilization, a ghost of a victorious smile cutting across his sharp lips.

Calculating that the coming dawn would permit him to reclaim the tiny wolf-pup, running and hunting beside his bloodline without restraint, his predatory instinct experienced a rare, blinding surge of anticipation.

"The matter is of zero consequence; my beast harbors zero objection to his roars."

Clara’s internal thoughts snarled—

this is far from a ledger concerning your personal objections, Alpha.

Forced to deploy her ultimate defensive shield, she manufactured her non-existent mate across the link: "My alpha mate intercepted the rumor of his roars; his dominant pride registered severe displeasure. Tomorrow, your authority must execute a formal, disciplinary dialogue to correct the pup's tongue."

"Is that the current status of your den?"

Dominic froze in brief stagnation, his intellect having completely purged the data entry concerning Clara’s alleged alpha mate from his primary radar. However, his tracking squads had failed to deliver verified confirmation of this male’s bloodline; the ledger of her mating bond remained an unverified phantom.

"My intellect records the terms. Tomorrow, my voice shall address the pup regarding the boundary lines."

Yet Dominic's mind failed to track the strategic logic—why did Clara command

him

to discipline the child? She was the birth-Luna of the lineage; by what rule did her own tongue abstain from clarifying the hierarchy to the pup?

Witnessing his absolute, compliant posture, Clara found herself stripped of further ammunition to launch against his position.

After all, he was the authentic sire of the pup’s bloodline; her internal instincts had already unconsciously assigned Dominic to the shared sovereign role of co-governing Leo's training.

Given that Dominic’s biological system was entirely unfit to master the heavy Lycan fleet, he designed to summon his personal guard to clear the path, only to register that his tracking crystal had drained its energy core and locked down into absolute blackout.

"Maintain your coordinates for a single watch; my vanguard shall locate an energy font to revive the crystal."

Clara violently caught the sleeve of his heavy garment, her fingers indicating the grand gateway of the medical fortress. "Negative. My hand shall command a public transport fleet to evacuate your frame. Cease generating excessive strategic friction; the alchemists are expending their lifeforce to preserve high-tier casualties across the halls—who possesses the sovereignty to attend to your pride?"

The supreme Lycan King was entirely silenced by her sharp discipline, unable to forge a solitary counter-syllable, yet his inner wolf was secretly radiating a wave of pure, golden euphoria. This marked the absolute initialization watch where her flesh had intentionally initiated physical contact with his frame...

Clara secured his transport vehicle, fiercely declining his dominant demand to escort her rogue trail back to her penthouse fortress; launching a secondary transport capsule for her own coordinates, the two wolves severed their lines, retreating to their respective dens.

The precise second her boots cleared her threshold, the Dowager Luna’s runic frequency had ruptured her peace.

At this watch, her intellect remained entirely marooned in a fog of confusion regarding the old matriarch's panic, yet calculating Hestia was simply tracking Dominic’s safety loops, she dismissed the friction from her mind.

Executing a swift cleansing ritual across the sanctuary, Clara launched an encrypted link to Sister Chloe, signaling that the sector was cleared for the pup’s return.

"Confirmed! Our vanguard has already navigated the lower perimeter of your fortress."

Chloe instantly forced a high-definition visual link across the quartz screen. "Gaze upon the young prince, Clara! Your birth-Luna projects magnificent beauty, child! Your systems have suffered a separation of a full sun cycle; does your inner beast pant for her scent?"

Within the visual matrix, Leo had clearly undergone a total, elite wardrobe transformation from head to paw.

His skull was encased in a knit cerulean bunny-eared helm, his small torso shielded by a dual-tone amber-and-espresso leather tactical jacket, his paws anchored inside a pair of masterfully crafted chestnut shearling boots; the presentation was exceptionally sleek, clean, and aggressively sharp, artificially advancing his mature presence by several seasons.

Evidently, Chloe's pack preferences remained eternally locked onto this specific mature, battle-hardened commander aesthetic.

"Mom! Leo’s inner wolf is panting with boundless hunger for Mom's presence!"

Intercepting the soft, melodious mind-link resonance of the pup vibrating through the audio core, Clara felt the absolute defenses of her heart melt into liquid gold. Though their mother-pup lifelines traditionally ran adjacent through every sun watch, experiencing a solitary cycle of separation triggered an agonizing ache of devotion—a phantom brand carved straight into the marrow of her bones!

"Your Mom is similarly consumed by the separation, my prince!"

Clara broadcasted her vocal frequency with intense devotion, while her strategic eyes narrowed to interrogate the screen: "Did Auntie Chloe mobilize her material gold to harvest fresh combat gear for your frame again? Our sanctuary vaults are already choked with elite raiment, Leo; your system must reject future tributes across the shops."

"Terms accepted, Mom; my gratitude is transferred to Auntie." Leo nodded with flawless, aristocratic discipline, completely refraining from breaking Chloe's cover before his mother. In truth, his advanced intellect intensely loathed the chaotic ritual of endlessly testing garment configurations across the marketplace, yet tracking the immense joy vibrating through Chloe's aura, his young beast had forcefully suppressed his irritation to indulge her whims.

Chloe, hearing Clara's warning, instantly breached the frequency to shield her beloved prince: "Nonsense! My own sovereign will forced the transaction upon Leo's frame; these few fragments constitute a minimal tribute! Your tongue is forbidden from disciplining my sacred heart; the pup possesses a level of discipline that borders on absolute perfection! Enough talk; our vanguard is breaching the elevation columns now."

As her voice trailed off, Chloe hoisted a massive cluster of heavily branded supply sacks into the camera's tracking arc, shaking the spoils before the screen.

Clara’s facial lines dropped into a thick matrix of absolute exasperation; the target sacks numbered no less than six distinct vaults—and the female dared to brand this slaughter of gold as a minimal tribute!