All Chapters of The Lycan King's Hybrid Mate: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Unknown Point of ViewThe room is dimly lit, the single bulb overhead flickering slightly, casting long, shifting shadows across the rough wooden walls. The air is thick with tension and the faint metallic tang of blood and sweat. Ten warriors, all clad in dark, weather worn tactical gear, stand in a loose circle around a scarred table. A large, detailed map of the region is spread across it, weighed down at the corners by knives and empty bullet casings.Red and black markers dot the map, werewolf packs locations, strategic points, recent sightings. Some are circled, others crossed out completely.I sit at the head of the table and lean over, pointing to a cluster of marks in the eastern quadrant. My voice is low and gravelly, commanding attention without needing to raise it. “According to the Alpha,” I say, tapping my finger on several circled locations, “these packs all have Lycans stationed there now. Reinforcements. Protection.”I straighten myself slowly, my eyes scanning over t

Jensen's Point of ViewI sit at my desk, elbows resting on the worn wood, another attack report spread open in front of me. The words blur for a moment as I rub my tired eyes, the tension in my shoulders tightening with every passing second. Another pack hit. Willowfang this time. No rogues, no scent trails, just chaos, blood, and weapons.Human weapons.I run a hand through my hair, jaw clenching. This is the forth confirmed attack where they came in human form, no shifting, no howls, just shadows moving with precision and brutality. We train for wild assaults, for rogue Lycans, for brute force. Not for this. Not for coordinated, guerrilla style tactics.But I know it’s them.It’s the same group. The same strategy dressed up in different clothes. One day they rip through a pack in full Lycan form, tearing down every barrier we put up. The next, they sneak in wearing boots and black coats, swinging blades and firing arrows from bows or even guns. It's unpredictable by design. And it’s

Jensen's Point of ViewAria rests in the crook of my arm, her little body curled against my chest like she belongs there, because she does. Her tiny hand clutches the fabric of my shirt, her breathing soft and steady, her lashes like feathers against her round cheeks. She looks so peaceful, so untouched by the weight of the world. I rock her gently, pacing slow steps across the nursery floor, memorizing every little sound she makes.For a moment, nothing exists outside this room. Just Aria. Her warmth. Her innocence.Then my phone vibrates in my pocket, and the moment fractures.Carefully, I shift my weight and slip the phone out, making sure not to disturb her. She stirs a little, makes a soft sound, then settles again with her face tucked against me. I glance at the screen.An alert.Another attack.A werewolf pack hit. This time by Lycans, in full form.I grit my teeth. This isn’t random. This is targeted. Coordinated. They’re getting bolder.I open a mind link immediately, keeping

Jensen's Point of ViewThe sun is warm against my back as I sit at the table, the scent of grilled meat still hanging in the air and the sound of children’s laughter and chatter echoing from the table next to us. Aria’s giggle is unmistakable, light and bright, tangled with Alaric’s voice as the two of them shoulder bump each other at the table. Leo is playing with a piece of bread that seems to resemble a monster of some sort, laughing with Elijah.I lean back slightly in my chair, my arm resting casually behind Rosalee’s chair, a half finished plate in front of me. The laughter of our friends surrounds us, Piper teasing Marcel about his mountain of food, Victor and Josh in a mock debate about whose kid is the fastest. For a moment, it feels normal. For a moment, I let myself believe we’re safe.Then it happens.A sharp buzz cuts through the air... then another. And another. The sound becomes a chorus as all the alphas’ phones vibrate and beep almost in unison. I freeze, my heart sin

Jensen's Point of View The moon hangs high above the treeline, casting a cold silver light over the clearing below. I crouch in the shadows at the ridge overlooking the small werewolf outpost we chose as our bait. From this vantage point, every inch of the terrain is visible, the small cluster of wooden cabins, the flickering light from the watchtower's lantern, and the illusion of vulnerability we’ve crafted so carefully.It looks abandoned. Vulnerable. But it’s not.The cabins are rigged with pressure sensors and motion triggered nets, silent, non-lethal deterrents designed to disorient and delay. Every window and door has been reinforced from the inside, invisible to the casual eye. There are shallow trenches dug just beyond the perimeter, filled with quick locking snares coated with paralyzing toxin, a recent alchemical concoction from Nyx and Piper, strong enough to take down a rogue Lycan without killing them.Inside the cabins, my warriors wait, hidden in false closets and beh