Chapter 6 Who the Fuck Are You?

Fiona's POV: The papers were scattered across the table, each file accompanied by photos of the five potential candidates. As my foster fathers had mentioned, they were all strikingly handsome men, and several of them even matched my personal preferences. But the reality was, my goal was to become the Rogue Queen, take control of Exile Island, and lead the rogues in showing those racially biased werewolves a lesson they would never forget. Men? Men would only slow me down in achieving my dream of becoming Queen! However, finding my destined mate and receiving the blessing of the Moon Goddess were necessary steps to becoming the Rogue Queen. Sigh. I took a deep breath, forcing aside any distractions, and focused on sorting through the five dossiers. The first file I picked up was about a man named Adam Neeson, a notorious playboy. He had recently become the CEO of an entertainment company, constantly surrounded by beautiful women, and the media seemed to be obsessed with his endless scandals. He was clearly the type of man who let his desires lead him. His wolf soul was the least stable of all. "Let's try him," I muttered to myself. I wanted to see if I could easily control him. I tapped the table, my voice firm and cold. "Thomas, I need his full background, especially his recent schedule." Thomas shot me a quick, almost secretive glance, then nodded with a smirk. "Of all the candidates, none are currently in the Northern Continent, and they're hard to reach. But Adam's a womanizer. If you make your move, he'll probably fall for it easily." Heh, that was exactly why I picked him. Men like this were simple to trap with a casual encounter. Thomas glanced around briefly, then sighed, a trace of caution in his voice. "But Adam is the son of the Alpha of the famous Westwind Pack in the Northern Continent. He's easy to handle, but his Alpha is not. If things go wrong, the Westwind Alpha will make sure you lose the Moon Goddess's blessing right away." That comment immediately soured my mood. Trying to force a binding with a wolf soul would be seen as a failing the test. Breaking off the engagement could spark a war between the rogues and the pack. Such a complicated situation. But as my eyes skimmed the documents, I noticed something odd. I pointed to a section of the dossier. "Adam has been in contact with Luke recently?" "Yes, they met at a bar. They're probably just drinking buddies," Thomas replied. Drinking buddies? I raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile spreading across my lips. My second foster father, Jimmy, was a highly skilled werewolf doctor. During my time learning from him, I had heard of Luke. Luke, alongside Jimmy, was one of the most famous werewolf doctors on the continent. On the surface, Luke specialized in internal medicine. But in truth, his real expertise was in incompetency treatments. "Send me Adam's latest schedule," I ordered. "Yes, Queen." ... Three days later, I entered the One Third Club—the largest and most prestigious bar in the Northern Continent. Today, Adam was supposed to be there for a private gathering. I had heard that Adam had invested some money into the One Third Club, and as the CEO of an entertainment company, he was frequently involved in social events. Because of this, the bar had set aside two exclusive private rooms on the second floor just for him. At this hour, the bar was relatively empty. As I stepped in, a server immediately approached me. "Ma'am, do you have a reservation or booking?" "I'm here to see Mr. Adam Neeson. Please show me the way," I said smoothly. The server gave me a curious look. "You must be a new artist with Stellar Entertainment, right? Please follow me." The server mistook my identity and granted me access to the elevator, taking me to the tenth floor. "It's at the end of the hallway." So easy? I thought I'd have to use my charm or abilities to manipulate my way in. "Thank you," I said, my tone smooth as silk. I walked down the hallway toward the last private room and raised my hand to knock. But after waiting for a while, no one responded. Just as I was about to knock again, I finally heard a lazy voice from inside. "Come in." I opened the door. Even with my usual composure, I froze for a brief moment at the scene before me. Sitting on a pitch-black leather sofa was a man with wild silver hair, wearing a dark purple shirt, his buttons slightly undone, revealing the faint outline of his chest. He looked like the very definition of a charismatic playboy. His arms were around two stunning women, and another woman, dressed in a strapless mini-dress, was kneeling beside him, feeding him sliced fruit. What is this? I glanced at the dossier again. Adam, the infamous playboy, seemed perfect in every way, except for one flaw: He had a secret illness, one that rendered him incapable of getting it up. So ... I stared at his lower half for a moment before blurting out without thinking, "Can it still work?" The room immediately fell silent. The women clinging to Adam froze, their gazes instinctively shifting toward his lower body. Adam's face darkened in an instant, and the Alpha-level aura around him surged violently toward me. The threat was tangible. "Who the fuck are you, bitch?"