Chapter 554 Claire’s Inner Schemes
There had never been a release.
And now, with Zion no longer holding Shura back the same way, Shura poured it all out, raw, unfiltered, like he was finally emptying everything he had been forced to keep inside.
But in truth, that pent-up rage was only part of why Zion always lost control back then. The rest was because of the tangled strain of the mate bond, his unstable temperament, and a mind that never quite settled. Guilt had a way of festering in him, and when it did, it didn’t stay contained.
While Zion remained caught in his own thoughts, weighed down by what he’d done, Levi and Maxwell turned to Addison with gentle, reassuring smiles, a silent acknowledgment that she deserved this kind of welcome.
She had earned it. What she accomplished in the West had reached all the way to the Royal Capital, and her people hadn’t taken it for granted, and they appreciated it.
Seeing that, the hesitation in Addison eased.
She let herself smile, soft at first, then it turned brighter, returning every look, every wave directed at her. Eventually, she raised her hand and waved back, her expression open and radiant, no longer holding back.
And in front of her, Levi and Maxwell’s smiles only deepened as they watched her, quietly pleased.
While Addison and her fated mates were caught in their quiet moment, the front gates of the Royal Palace stood ready for her arrival. Claire, Mila, Mila’s father, and the Alpha King with his Queen were already waiting. The Alpha King and Queen wore their anticipation openly, pride and warmth softening their features as they prepared to welcome their child home.
Claire, however, was a different story.
She stood rigid among them, rage simmering beneath the surface, her gaze fixed ahead like it could burn through the crowd. The streets were packed, people spilling into every corner, banners draped high, cheers rising, like they were welcoming a war hero.
It made her sick.
She could barely see past the sea of bodies, but she didn’t need to. The atmosphere alone was enough to twist something ugly inside her. She hated how Addison was rising above her, how Addison was adored by all, and how Addison became so untouchable.
After everything Claire had endured...
Her jaw tightened. Even now, she could still feel the phantom sting of the silver whip lashing across her back, the scars that refused to fade no matter how much time passed. The pain had branded itself into her, and with it came a hatred that only grew sharper.
For a fleeting moment, the thought crossed her mind to just kill Addison and end it all.
But she crushed it down just as quickly.
She couldn’t afford that right now.
Claire forced herself to breathe, to steady the storm behind her eyes, and to mask her aggression towards Addison. She needed to be seen as someone who has changed her way and become softer, kinder, someone worthy of standing beside Mila... and Addison as princesses of this kingdom.
Because that was the only way forward.
If she played it right, if she rebuilt her image, earned back trust, reshaped how people saw her, then maybe, just maybe, she could take what Addison held. The position. The favor. Everything.
And this time, she wouldn’t fail.
So she tried harder, perfecting the act, burying the hatred deeper, even as it threatened to consume her from within.
"Mila... how do you think Addison completed that mission out west?"
Claire’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, light enough to pass as idle curiosity. But among werewolves, nothing stayed unheard. Every ear around them caught it.
On the surface, it sounded harmless.
But it wasn’t.
The way she phrased it, the timing, the casual tone, it all carried something sharper underneath. A quiet suggestion. A seed of doubt.
That Addison hadn’t really done it alone.
That maybe she hadn’t done much at all.
That she’d leaned on her fated mates... on others... and in the end, simply stepped forward to claim the credit.
Claire didn’t expect to destroy Addison’s reputation with a single question. That would’ve been too obvious.
So she made it subtler, so no one would doubt that she was trying to cause trouble.
Just enough to make people hesitate. To make them rethink. To dull the shine of Addison’s name, even if only a little, until admiration slowly turned into doubt.
Behind them stood nobles and ministers, those closest to the Alpha King and Queen, along with others who had come simply to witness the spectacle. Claire knew exactly what she was doing. This wouldn’t damage Addison outright, not yet. But it didn’t need to.
All she had to do was plant the seed.
Doubt was quiet, subtle. It didn’t announce itself, but it lingered. And once it took root in minds like theirs, it would change the way they looked at Addison. They would grow cautious. Observant. Watching her more closely than before.
And sooner or later...
Under that kind of scrutiny, even the smallest misstep would stand out.
And when it did, it wouldn’t just be a mistake anymore.
It would be proof.
During her short stay in the palace, she had watched more than she spoke, her gaze sharp enough to catch what others overlooked. It didn’t take long for her to notice the fractures beneath the surface.
The nobles bowed to the Alpha King, yes, but their obedience felt practiced rather than sincere, a performance polished by necessity.
Beneath it lingered calculation, the quiet hum of discontent that suggested many of them did not truly agree with his rule. To some, perhaps, he was too lenient and benevolent, too restrained for what a werewolf king was meant to be.
She had grown up hearing a very different doctrine. Power, her former father insisted, was meant to dominate, not appease. Fear was the only language that guaranteed loyalty, the only force strong enough to crush dissent before it could take root, and many Alphas followed and think this way.
And she believed it. In her eyes, restraint was weakness dressed as virtue, and weakness invited contempt.
Why else would the vampires continue to test their borders, crossing into their lands again and again without hesitation? It wasn’t arrogance alone; it was dismissal. The werewolves were no longer seen as equals, but as something lesser, something that could be preyed upon. A kingdom that failed to assert its dominance inevitably became a resource to be exploited.
And that was where opportunity lay.
If not all the nobles truly stood behind the Alpha King, then his authority was not as absolute as it appeared. Beneath the order of the court, unrest simmered, subtle but undeniable.
And where there was unrest, there was leverage, a space to maneuver, to influence, and to reshape the balance of power. In her mind, it was clear that this was the kind of instability that preceded change.
The kind of moment that, if seized correctly, could be used to uproot a throne and place it in more deserving hands.
For Claire, survival had never been a matter of strength alone; it had been a matter of control. Three years in the hands of vampires had carved that lesson into her bones, teaching her how to observe without being noticed, how to bend without breaking, how to bury her malice beneath obedience so convincingly that it became her shield.
She had learned when to lower her gaze, when to soften her voice, when to disappear just enough to be overlooked. It was how she had endured.
Because of that, she understood her current position with unsettling clarity. Her image in front of the Alpha King and Queen had already been tarnished, damaged in ways that couldn’t be repaired overnight, but not beyond recovery.
There was still room to maneuver, still threads she could pull if she was careful enough. And the first step, she decided, was to dismantle Addison.
Not openly. Never openly.
Addison was still the Alpha King’s daughter, and no matter how weak she might appear, his authority stood firmly behind her. Direct confrontation would only destroy Claire faster.
So she would take a different route, quieter, but sharper. She would erode Addison’s reputation piece by piece, planting doubt where there had once been admiration.
Let people question whether Addison’s past achievements had ever been real, or merely embellished stories crafted to win favor. Let them wonder if the so-called prodigy was nothing more than an empty title, a wolfless fraud wrapped in borrowed glory.
But Claire would never be the one to say it outright.
Instead, she would guide others to that conclusion, using them as her voice, her blade. A whisper here, a suggestion there, just enough to let suspicion grow on its own. That was far more effective than any direct accusation.
And soon, when the moment was right, everything would fall into place.
Her smile brightened at the thought, sharp beneath its sweetness, as she positioned herself at the front where she would be easily seen.