Home / Werewolf / The Young Lycan / Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

All Chapters of The Young Lycan: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

190 Chapters

Burning the Vessels.

The helicopter leveled out over the northwestern edge of Hardtooth territory, the rotors beating a steady rhythm against the cooler air that rose from the low ground ahead.Below them the Hollow Pit Marsh stretched in a wide, uneven basin of black water, dead reeds, and twisted trees. Even from altitude the place looked wrong, patches of pale, unnatural movement flickered between the trunks, and a faint sour smell of stagnant water and sickness drifted up through the open side door.Clementine kept the craft in a slow sideways drift, watching the wind indicators and the way the tops of the trees leaned. “Wind’s running west to east,” he called over the headset. “If we start on the far side and work back, the fire will carry itself.”Liliana had already moved into the rear compartment. She braced one knee against a secured fuel drum, unscrewed the first cap, and felt the sharp chemical bite of gasoline rise around her. The liquid sloshed heavily as the heli

The Recovery Phase.

The helicopter turned away from the still-smoking basin of Hollow Pit Marsh only after both of them were certain nothing below still moved.Clementine kept the craft low and steady on the flight back. The air that came through the vents carried the distant reek of burned pitch and scorched flesh, but the sour under-note of the living disease was gone. When the sealed gates of Hardtooth came into view again, the square looked smaller than it had that morning, quieter, waiting.They landed in the same open ground. Residents who were strong enough to stand watched from doorways and the edges of the square, faces marked by exhaustion and the first fragile signs of recovery. Liliana and Clementine stepped down together and, without needing to discuss it, moved toward a quieter corner where the wind did not carry every word across the open space.“Recovery comes next,” Liliana said. “Supplies, clean water, medicine, another full batch of Antitoxin, clothes, and enoug

Two Sides of the Same Mission.

Liliana left the south gate at a steady run and dropped into the tree line without looking back.The first bodies appeared only a few dozen meters beyond the southern approach they had used when entering Hardtooth. She caught the thick, rotten scent before she saw them, two shapes half-hidden under low branches, clothes stiff with dried fluids. The faces and much of the flesh were already gone to the disease, only the size of the garments and a small embroidered cuff told her one had been a woman and the other a child. She did not linger. A measured pour of fuel, a struck flare, and the remains became a brief, contained blaze that left nothing but blackened earth and the sharp smell of burned cloth.She moved on.The trail of the fleeing cut through the forest that leaned toward Clawlinger territory, the closest border for anyone desperate enough to run. Liliana followed the scent of advanced rot rather than footprints. Every few hundred meters the fo

The Last of the Infected was Gone.

The Redborne helicopter settled into the open ground just as the first light of dawn touched the sealed gates of Hardtooth.When Giorge stepped down, the effect was immediate. Heads turned. Conversations died. Recognition moved through the recovered residents like a current. He was broader than most remembered, the lines of old battle still written into the way he carried himself, yet unmistakably the same warrior who had held the western line during the Fallout and pulled more Hardtooth lives out of the fire than any other single fighter the pack had ever produced.Giorge gave them only a short look of acknowledgment before Clementine stepped forward. There was no greeting, no exchange of news. Clementine simply turned and led the way straight toward the Alpha’s residence. Giorge followed without question.The stench reached them before the gates did. Rot hung thick in the air around the building, sour and advanced. Through the gaps in the heavy doors the

Giorge Took Over the Recovery Phase.

Giorge moved through the square with the same steady authority he had used to claim the pack.He directed the unloading of every crate the Redborne helicopter had brought, sacks of grain, sealed containers of clean water, bundles of fresh clothing, and the remaining medical stock. The work of recovery had a clear commander now, and Hardtooth answered to him without hesitation.When the last of the immediate supplies had been handed out, Giorge turned to Liliana and Clementine.“I have the rest,” he said. “The two of you should leave. Go back. You’ve done enough here.”Clementine did not wait for Liliana’s opinion. He seconded the decision with a short nod, caught her wrist, and steered her straight toward the waiting helicopter. The rotors were already spinning up by the time she found her voice. Instead of turning toward Redborne, the craft lifted and set a course for Winterchase territory.They touched down on the private pad outside the ancestral man

Ruben's Omega Training Chamber.

>>>Blacklore territory. Ruben's Perspective.Deep beneath the Blacklore mansion the basement stretched in two wide, windowless halls.Clean beds lined the walls, and fresh sheets, measured meals, and shelves of carefully chosen devices filled the space. Everything looked orderly. Nothing about the rooms suggested what the bodies inside them were being shaped into.Ruben sat in his usual chair in the early-stage chamber and watched the newest group work. Ten fresh omegas, five male, five female, had been paired off and ordered to satisfy each other. Their faces still carried the soft look of youth and inexperience, and no outsider would have guessed how deeply the training was already sinking into muscle and instinct.He corrected them the moment a voice rose too high.“Pleasure is given, not felt. Hold the finish. The longer you deny yourselves, the more control you gain over the one touching you. That control is the only vulnerability worth creating

Retraining Paloma.

>>>Blacklore territory. Ruben's Perspective.Paloma arrived at Ruben’s private chamber wearing nothing but an open silk robe that hung off her shoulders and left her body fully exposed.She moved with deliberate intent, every step aimed at the man who had shaped her. Ruben was already seated in the low chair near the bed, fully dressed, expression empty. He could harden, she had seen it before, but he never allowed the reaction to become anything more than biology. That unbroken wall had always been the challenge she set for herself. Even her ability had never once forced real satisfaction out of him.Tonight he let her try.“Go on,” he said, voice flat. “Show me how far you’ve fallen.”Paloma dropped the robe and sank to her knees between his legs. She freed him with practiced hands, took the half-hard length into her mouth, and sucked with open hunger. Wet sounds filled the quiet room. She moaned around him, loud and unrestrained, trying

The Fresh Omega an Elder Wanted.

>>>Blacklore territory. Ruben's Perspective.For a full week Ruben kept Paloma under constant correction.Every session followed the same hard line of denial until she could hold still, then measured stimulation only when her breathing stayed even and her voice stayed quiet. By the fourth day she stopped fighting the lectures. Obeying was simply easier than the endless edge without release. By the seventh day she could take instruction without immediately chasing her own climax. Ruben watched the change without praise.“No physical contact with any male for another week,” he told her at the end of the last session. “If you cannot hold the urge that long, the training has failed again.”Paloma nodded, eyes lowered, and left without argument.Ruben went straight to the special training room reserved for rushed placements.The male omega waiting inside had only just crossed into adulthood. Fresh, unmarked, and already prepared to match the High

The Omega is Ready.

>>>Blacklore territory. Ruben's Perspective.The following three days turned the special training room into a closed circuit of instruction and repetition.Ruben no longer gave the omega release as a reward. Instead he sat or lay as the target and required the young male to deliver every sensation himself.“Begin,” Ruben said on the first morning, already bare from the waist down, seated at the edge of the bed. “Mouth only. Slow.”The omega knelt between his knees, took the half-hard cock between his lips, and tried to copy the pace he had been shown. Wet heat closed around the shaft. Almost at once a soft moan slipped out of him.Ruben’s hand settled on the back of his head, not pushing, only still.“No sound. You give what is asked. If the target has not requested a responsive mouth, you stay silent. Again.”The omega adjusted, sealed his lips tighter, and worked in measured strokes. Tongue flat along the underside, suction steady, depth increas

Paloma's Back Obeying the Protocol.

>>>Blacklore territory. Ruben's Perspective.Ruben finalized the placement himself.When the male omega met every standard on the checklist, Ruben loaded him into a plain dark car and drove across the border into Purplefang territory. Neutral ground. No one there would look twice at a Blacklore vehicle or ask why it had come.He parked a short distance from the auction house and turned in his seat.“The elder is inside. When he steps out, you will walk past the entrance and collide with him. Make it look accidental. After that you follow his lead. Nothing more.”The omega nodded once. His face had been coached into the right degree of uncertainty. He stepped out of the car and moved toward the building with slow, slightly unsteady steps, the picture of someone fragile and easily overlooked. The Blacklore crest was small but visible on the breast of his shirt, exactly where it needed to be seen.Ruben stayed behind the wheel and watched.

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