All Chapters of Betrayed By My Mate, Now Claimed By The Lycan King : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The lead scout—a man named Daníel with a fresh cut across his cheek—spoke the second we walked in. "The Sire isn't dead. Not fully at least. Fragments of the heart stone must've scattered when you shattered it. The elders are gathering them in the deep caves right now. The thing is regenerating. Slower than before, but it's growing. And they're using the blood from the new packs arriving tonight to speed it up." he paused. "Three packs already camped at the old mill ruins. Another two by tomorrow night. That's close to eight hundred wolves total. They're not hiding anymore. Green smoke is visible from the keep walls." The room went quiet. Merja tapped the map. "The fragments are the key. If even one piece reaches the blood pit intact, the Sire will wake stronger than before. It'll link to every suppressed Old Blood line on the continent. Alphas will start turning on their own people out of fear. Packs will fracture. The elders have spent two hundred years calling your blood poi

I vaulted the battlement and landed in the courtyard as he reached the bottom of the stairs. We moved together without speaking. The sealed bond made it easy — I felt the shift of his weight, the direction of his next strike, the exact moment he needed me to cover his left. My claws met the first enemy wolf that lunged for him. I tore through its throat and kept moving. The fight around the gate was pure chaos. Bodies slammed into the walls. Blood slicked the stones. A Shadowpine warrior came at me from the side; I ducked under his blade and drove my claws up under his ribs. He dropped. Another took his place. The bond flared hot as Gunnar killed the one behind me before I even turned. We pushed forward, step by step, carving a path toward the tipped cage. The thing inside was thrashing hard enough to crack the iron bars. Green veins of light pulsed through the metal. One of the elders screamed an order. More wolves poured toward us to protect it. Sunna’s voice rang from the tow

The second cage never reached the front line. Sunna’s arrows and Nina’s bolts turned the wolves dragging it into corpses before they covered twenty more yards. The heavy iron box slammed down at an angle, one wheel shattered, containment runes flickering hard. Whatever was growing inside it slammed against the bars hard enough to make the whole thing rock. Green light spilled through the gaps in thick, sick pulses. That should have been a win. It wasn’t. Because while we were focused on the cages, Jakob had been doing something else entirely. I didn’t see it happen. I felt it through the sudden shift in the fighting on the left flank. The pressure there changed. The sounds changed. Then Matthías’s voice roared across the courtyard, raw and furious. “They’re inside the lower postern!” The words hit harder than any claw. The lower postern was the small side gate used for supply runs and night patrols. It was narrow, reinforced, and supposed to be sealed. Someone had op

Sunna hit the wall walk stairs at a dead run. I followed hard on her heels, Gunnar a step behind me. The bond between us stayed tight and clear, feeding information both ways — the strain in his shoulder, the way my arms still trembled from the last deep pull of power, the exact moment one of us needed the other to cover a blind angle. The situation on the wall walk was worse than it had looked from below. A cluster of Shadowpine and Blackpine wolves had gained the high ground near the eastern tower. Two of our archers were already down. A third was locked in close combat with a heavy-shouldered Blackpine fighter who used a short axe with brutal efficiency. Nina held the tower doorway itself, crossbow discarded, long knife flashing as she kept three more from pushing inside. Her left sleeve was dark with blood from shoulder to elbow. Sunna didn't slow down. She drove straight into the nearest climber, dagger punching up under his jaw before he could fully gain his feet. I took

The reinforced wedge hit the gate like a living battering ram. Green light crawled over the front rank of enemy wolves, knitting wounds as fast as we could make them. The elders stayed protected in the center, hands raised, feeding the magic in steady pulses. Our line bent. For a few ugly minutes it looked like it might break completely. Then Matthías did something reckless and necessary. He pulled six of the steadiest Ironfang warriors off the postern defense, formed them into a tight spearhead, and drove straight into the side of Jakob's wedge. It wasn't elegant. It was ugly, close, and effective. The green light faltered where the formation broke. Gunnar and I hit the same point from the front a heartbeat later. The sealed bond made the timing clean. We didn't need to shout. The wedge collapsed into a brutal melee. It bought us time. Not much. Just enough. Gunnar's voice cut across the courtyard. "Fall back to the inner line! Controlled retreat! Get the wounded behind