Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 181: A Sudden Change in Leadership

A shocking piece of news swept through the werewolf community.

Alistair Gerymoore, head of the Gerymoore Clan, had sent a formal letter to the King of Werewolves, accusing

Eleanor Raynor and the Raynor Clan of unjustly disrupting their business interests and political standing within

the kingdom. He had even provided several pieces of evidence to support his claim.

Due to the recent holy duel, most werewolves were already aware of the rising hostility between the two clans...

many had either witnessed the duel firsthand or heard detailed accounts. They were also familiar with the

sudden, tic shifts in the kingdom's political landscape. Now that the Gerymoore Clan had formally lodged a

complaint, it was easy for the public to connect the dots between what had once seemed like unrelated events.

Alistair Gerymoore had gone personally to the King, pleading for intervention and fair judgement. He made no

effort to conceal his visit to Brontes Island. The transparency of his presence added an air of credibility to his

accusations. Rumours spread quickly, and people were stunned by how the Raynor Clan had behaved... quietly

dismantling the Gerymoore Clan’s influence across the kingdom while the public's attention was on the duel.

What shocked them even more was the merciless precision behind it all... especially when a new nemerged

at the heart of it: Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor.

Until recently, most of the supernatural community had been only vaguely aware of the Raynor Clan’s young

heiress. Fiona Raynor was still the recognised head of the clan, and Eleanor had largely remained a name

without weight. But now, with Alistair’s formal accusations aimed not at Fiona, but Eleanor herself, interest in her

surged throughout the supernatural world.

People began investigating... and what they found stunned them. Eleanor had risen swiftly in recent years,

emerging from relative obscurity to wield significant power and influence.

As that revelation took root, another bombshell exploded from within the Gerymoore family.

Citing Alistair's impulsive and reckless behaviour, the Elders’ Council of the Gerymoore Clan dismissed him from

his position as clan head. In his place, Grand Elder George Gerymoore would act as interim head until a

successor could be chosen.

Upon assuming leadership, George personally contacted Fiona Raynor to apologise for Alistair’s actions. He also

requested a formal meeting with both Fiona and Eleanor, expressing his intent to visit the Raynor Estate in

Manchester. Interestingly, Fiona agreed to the meeting... but made no promise that Eleanor would be present.

The call, made in front of the entire Gerymoore Clan, was inevitably leaked, fuelling even more discussion among

the werewolves.

Later that day, George summoned Margot Gerymoore, who had been assigned to gather intelligence on Eleanor

Raynor days earlier.

Inside the council chamber, George and several elders listened as Margot presented her findings.

"Are you certain Eleanor collaborated with Werehyenas and Nagas?" one elder asked sharply.

"Yes, Elder," Margot replied. "I have first-hand sources. There is no doubt. She was doing business with the

Bultungin Clan in Nigeria and the Nagavanshi Clan in India. Witnesses have seen Werehyenas operating within

her Nigerian Special Economic Zone, and Nagas working inside her factories in India."

George leaned back in his chair, brows furrowed. "I don’t understand what this girl is thinking. The Raynor Clan

has collaborated with humans before, yes... but never with other supernatural races. It’s common knowledge

that the races have always been in silent competition. Why would she trust them? Is she trying to change the

course of our history?"

A female elder spoke next. "I think much has changed while we've been in seclusion. | have a nagging sense that

our clan is falling behind. I've known Fiona for a long time... she would never have entertained partnerships with

other races. If she’s allowing Eleanor to act so freely, then perhaps she herself has changed over the years."

She paused, then added, "Grand Elder, when you travel to Manchester to meet Fiona, allowto accompany

you. | want to see with my own eyes how she’s changed."

George nodded. "Very well. I'll leave in two days. Be ready."

Margot then hesitated before speaking again. "There's another rumour... unsettling, though unconfirmed.

Eleanor recently visited Russia. No one knows why, but sclaim she returned with a vampire girl who stayed

in her villa for several weeks."

George narrowed his eyes. "Do we know who the girl is?"

"I'm not certain," Margot admitted. "But my sources suggest her nis Anastasiya. No one has confirmed her

identity, however."

A moment of silence passed before George's eyes lit up. "Anastasiya Ivanova... the favourite granddaughter of

Alexander Ivanov."

One of the elders gasped. "You mean Alexander Ivanov of the Greater Caucasus... the eldest member of the

Vampire High Council?"

George nodded slowly. "If she cfrom Russia, it could very well be her. But | can’t fathom why Alexander

Ivanov would allow Anastasiya to stay with Eleanor Raynor. That old monster never lets the girl out of his sight.

Now it seems there are many layers to this girl that we don’t yet understand."

He turned to Margot once more. "Continue gathering intelligence on Eleanor. | also want comprehensive updates

on the other Raynor Clan members, and anything significant that’s changed within the supernatural races. Don’t

worry about the cost... if you need to purchase information, submit it for reimbursement. I'll approve it."

Margot bowed and exited the chamber.

Once the door had closed, George turned to the remaining elders. "We need to scatter across the clans. Speak to

old friends, rekindle old connections... find out what's happening. | fear that our society is changing, much like it

did during the Industrial Revolution. And our clan is already falling behind."

The female elder nodded gravely. "I agree, Grand Elder. Our younger generation has failed to adapt. Now it's up

to us old bones to preserve our standing among the clans."

The others murmured their agreement.

George rose from his chair and said, "Very well. Let’s support the clan one more time... before we retreat into the

shadows again."

ork

On the storm-wreathed island of

Brontes, Menelaus Lychos emerged

from the rear gate of the obsidian

castle. Behind him, the castle of the

Lychos Clan rose like a cathedral of

night... its walls, towers and parapets

\

forged Bntfr2ly from black volcanic

glass, etched by centuries of wind

and lightning. Outside the castle, the

world was cast in monochrome

shades of polished onyx and shadow.

As sunlight filtered down through the

swirling stormclouds and errant forks

of lightning, it caught the edges of

the black stone, gilding the entire

structure in a radiant halo of molten

gold. It did not shimmer; it blazed, like

something holy and terrifying... a relic

from an age before memory. The

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With that ancient monument to the Lychos bloodline behind him, Menelaus set his stride toward the distant

Thunder Mountain, a jagged monolith that loomed ahead like a titan’s tombstone. Each of his steps echoed softly

along the stony path that coiled upward between shadow-draped ridges.

)

Nature's hand had not yet

relinquished its claim on the

mountain slopes. Groves of Aleppo

and Calabrian pines leaned over the

path like silent sentinels, their

needle-laced branches whispering in

the highland wind, Teloypee frees

. I§ : .

A Still a> ¥thided wrapped in a

subtle mist that clung to their trunks.

Wildflowers... spale as

moonlight, others deep crimson like

blood-soaked silk... swayed in quiet

ritual, while long grasses danced to

rhythms only the mountain seemed

to know. The scent of pine resin

mingled with damp earth and

blooming petals, threading through

the air in waves. Here and there,

butterflies flickered like coloured

embers between the blossoms. From

above, the lonely cry of a highland

raptor would pierce the hush, then

vanish into the thunder-laced

heavens. The content is on

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chapter there!

Menelaus walked alone, the rocky

trail crunching beneath his boots, his

long cloak stirring behind him like a

dark banner. His tall,

wide-shouldered and commanding

ithoyelte Gast &

sithoue a colossal shadow

across the narrow trail, devouring

sunlight like a herald of dusk. The

mountain air crackled faintly, tingling

on his skin. The further he ascended,

the louder the silence became, until

even the whisper of wind and birdcall

faded away, leaving only the distant

voice of the sky: the low, rolling drum

of periodic thunder. The content is on

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chapter there!

The Thunder Mountain cinto his view. Vast clouds churned endlessly around its peak, stitched with veins of

white-hot lightning that danced across the heavens like celestial serpents. The air vibrated with a low hum, the

song of countless tempests coiled in fury. Thunder cracked with the voice of a wrathful god, shaking the bones of

the land. As Menelaus ascended, lightning arcs descended in silken strikes, coiling around his body like luminous

vipers before sinking harmlessly into the stone beneath his feet.

The path ended in the open expanse of the summit, and there the storm made its home. The sky above was a

churning ocean of cloud and lightning arcs, torn apart by wild rumbles of lightning. lightning tendrils cascaded

downward in endless succession, crashing into the earth, curling through the air in intricate, blinding patterns.

There was no shelter in front of him... no trees, no soil, only blackened rock scoured smooth by years of sky-born

fury.

The brightness was unbearable; the lightning arcs were so luminous, so constant, that no eye could look directly

at their center without pain. Within that terrible light, the vague silhouette of a werewolf was suspended in mid-

air.

He hovered amidst the fury, motionless, as if held aloft by the will of the storm itself. Thousands of lightning arcs

wove a living cage around him, lashing the air in violent elegance. His form was barely visible... just the faint,

hulking outline of something immense and still. Not even thunder broke his concentration. Surrounded by the

periodic crack of the sky itself, distant and divine.

Menelaus lowered himself to one knee on the scorched rock, the electric air prickling across his skin. His voice

rang out clear, strong, and alone beneath the storm.

"Your Majesty, | cto report."