Everyone Thought the Alpha King’s Pup Was Sick—The New Maid Found 34 Needles in His Fur

The glowing white dust hit the three rogues full in the face.

They instantly gasped, clutching their throats as the concentrated pollen swept into their lungs. Their shifts forced themselves open, their bodies collapsing onto the frozen snow, paralyzed and coughing blood.

"I told you," Abigail said, walking past their writhing bodies. "The pollen is toxic to wolves."

She turned back toward the stone archway, holding the purple Moon-Lily root securely inside her pocket.

Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed from the trail below.

Abigail’s heart dropped into her stomach.

She ran toward the stone archway, looking down the winding mountain path.

Lawson and his ten elite guards were under heavy attack.

Over thirty armed mercenaries, clad in crimson tactical gear bearing the mark of the Southern Syndicate, had ambushed them from the higher ridges. Arrows dipped in wolfsbane rained down upon the King’s squad.

Lawson was in full Alpha wolf form—a majestic, terrifying beast with jet-black fur and glowing golden eyes, twice the size of a normal wolf. He tore through three mercenaries at once, his massive jaws snapping steel blades in half.

But he was fighting uphill, surrounded, and the scent of the Moon-Lily pollen drifting down from the peak was beginning to affect his breathing.

"Lawson!" Abigail screamed over the roaring wind.

The giant black wolf looked up toward the archway, his golden eyes locking onto her.

He let out a deafening roar, turning to clear a path through the mercenaries, but a heavy silver net launched from a nearby rock, pinning his massive body to the snow.

Four mercenaries jumped on top of the net, holding high-voltage silver rods to his neck.

Lawson howled in agonizing pain as blue electricity surged through his body, forcing his shift back into human form.

"Lawson!" Abigail sprinted down the stone steps, entirely uncaring of the danger.

She pulled two glass vials of concentrated nightshade oil from her satchel—potions she had prepared in the lab earlier—and threw them with lethal precision at the men holding the net.

The vials shattered on impact, releasing a cloud of caustic acid that instantly melted through the mercenaries' leather armor.

The men shrieked, letting go of the net as their skin burned.

Abigail reached Lawson, dropping to her knees and using her brass shears to slice through the heavy silver ropes tangling his chest.

"Lawson! Get up!" she pleaded, pulling his massive head onto her lap.

Lawson coughed violently, his skin pale, his golden eyes dimming from the wolfsbane electric shock.

"Abi..." Lawson rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "Run... get back to Finn..."

"I am not leaving you!" she shouted, pulling the last silver rope free.

The leader of the mercenaries—a scarred, towering beta named Vane’s brother, Marcus—stepped out of the shadows, holding a heavy crossbow aimed straight at Abigail’s chest.

"Touch him again, little maid, and I put a silver bolt through your heart," Marcus spat. "Lady Seraphina wants the King dead tonight. And you are going to watch."

Abigail slowly stood up in front of Lawson’s fallen body, shielding him with her own frame.

She looked into Marcus’s cold eyes, her expression completely devoid of fear.

"Lady Seraphina made a fatal mistake sending you," Abigail said coldly.

Marcus laughed. "Oh yeah? And why is that?"

"Because," Abigail whispered, "she doesn't know who my father was."

Abigail raised her left hand, revealing an ancient brass ring carved with a silver dragon—the seal of the Royal Assassin Guild of the Crescent Alliance.