Alpha’s Regret After Putting Me In Jail novel Chapter 239

Chapter 239: A Life Fading Away

Chapter 239: A Life Fading Away

(Alexander’s POV)

“Alex, watch out!”

Matthew’s warning echoed through the cavern as the silver dagger pierced through his body. Blood dripped from the blade as he collapsed to his knees.

I spun around just in time to see another rogue wolf–one I’d missed in the chaos–fall dead at my feet, struck down by one of my elite guards. But the damage was already done.

Matthew stood swaying, the dagger gone but leaving a gaping wound in his chest. Blood gushed from the injury, soaking his silver–gray uniform. Despite the obvious agony, his lips

curved into that familiar, reassuring smile.

“Commander…” he called, voice barely audible over the dying sounds of battle.

The word ended in a wet cough. Fresh blood spilled from his lips, bright crimson against his

rapidly paling skin.

My heart seemed to stop.

“Matthew!” I lunged forward, reaching him just as his knees buckled completely.

I caught him before he hit the ground, lowering us both to the blood–soaked earth. The wound was worse up close–a deep puncture that had clearly pierced something vital. Silver flecks glinted in the wound, telling me the weapon had been enhanced to prevent healing.

“Medic!” I roared, pressing both hands against the wound. “I need a medic now!”

My men were still engaged with the remaining rogues, fighting desperately. No one could

break away.

Blood continued seeping between my fingers, hot and slick. No matter how hard I pressed, it kept flowing. My hands suddenly seemed too small, inadequate to stem the tide of life draining from my friend.

“Dammit, Matthew,” I hissed, pressing harder. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

Matthew’s hand weakly grasped my arm, leaving bloody fingerprints on my sleeve.

“Commander…” he whispered, his voice raspy.

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I stared down at him, feeling an unfamiliar emotion spread through my chest. Panic, Ice–cold panic, I, Alexander Steele, commander of the Alpha King’s elite guard, was panicking.

“Save your strength,” I ordered, my voice harsher than intended.

Matthew must have seen something in my expression because he attempted another smile. Blood coated his teeth now, turning the gesture grotesque.

“It’s… fine,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I nodded mechanically. “It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.”

The words sounded hollow even to my own ears. Blood continued pulsing through my fingers, each beat of his heart pushing more of his life away.

Matthew’s hand weakly fumbled beneath his blood–soaked jacket. After a moment of struggle,

he pulled out a small fabric pouch. I recognized it immediately–the moon–blessed sachet

Celeste had given him.

Once white and delicately embroidered with silver thread, it was now stained dark crimson.

“Dirty…” Matthew murmured, distress clouding his fading eyes. “Dirty…”

His fingers weakly tried to wipe away the blood, only succeeding in spreading it further. The

childlike gesture broke something inside me.

“We’ll wash it when we get back,” I promised, my voice rough with emotion I rarely displayed.

“Celeste can make you a new one.”

Matthew’s eyes fixed on mine, a flicker of hope in their depths.

Around us, the tide of battle had turned. The rogue wolves were falling back, overwhelmed by

my elite warriors. But this victory meant nothing if Matthew died here.

“I need help!” I roared again, louder this time. “Now!”

Matthew’s hand suddenly clutched at my jacket, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so

wounded.

“She…” he gasped, each word pushing more blood past his lips. “She doesn’t like…

moon–blessed pastries.”

I froze, staring down at him in confusion.

“What?”

“Celeste,” he clarified, his eyes holding a gentle reproach. “You… childhood friends… how could

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< Chapter 239: A Life Fading A you… not know?”

+8 Points >

The question struck me like a physical blow. How could I not know such a simple thing about

Celeste? I, who had grown up with her, who had once been expected to mark her as my mate?

Yet here was Matthew, knowing her preferences, carrying her gift close to his heart.

With each labored word, more blood spilled from his lips. I pressed harder against the wound, panic rising. My white wolf howled within me, demanding I do something–anything–to save my friend.

But I couldn’t acknowledge the truth his words revealed: Matthew knew Celeste better than I

did now.

“Save your strength,” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Just focus on staying alive.”

Finally, two of my men broke through the chaos, rushing to our side.

“Help me get him to the vehicle,” I ordered. “Carefully!”

But the slightest movement as they tried to lift him brought forth another torrent of blood. The

wound was too severe. Moving him might kill him faster.

Matthew’s grip on my jacket tightened, his knuckles white with effort as he mustered his

remaining strength.

“Don’t…” he whispered, “don’t bully her…”

I wanted to scoff, to deny that I had ever bullied Celeste. But the truth hung between us,

unspoken. I had kept my distance, maintained my cold facade, even when I could have helped

her.

“Protect…” Matthew continued, his voice growing fainter. “Protect her…”

Something inside me snapped. Grief and frustration boiled over into anger.

“Protect her yourself!” I growled, my voice harsh with emotion I rarely displayed. “You earned the Alpha King’s recognition! You can protect her yourself!”

I wanted him to fight, to anger, to cling to life through sheer stubbornness.

Instead, Matthew simply smiled–that damned, gentle smile that had never changed since the day he joined my unit. His eyes drifted closed, and his hand fell limp at his side.

A single tear traced a path through the blood on his cheek, leaving a clean line down his skin.

I stared in disbelief. The bloodstained sachet remained clutched in his hand, almost tucked

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into my jacket as if he’d been trying to give it to me.

“Matthew?” I shook him gently. “Matthew!”

No response. The chest beneath my hands no longer rose and fell with breath.

Around me, my men stood in silence, heads bowed. The battle was over. We had won.

But at what cost?

+9 Paints X

Dawn broke as we descended the mountain ridge, carrying our dead and wounded. The rising sun was blinding, its golden rays spilling across the bloodied landscape.

I instinctively looked towards it but quickly turned away, the light too sharp for eyes that had

seen too much darkness.

My brow furrowed, deepening my naturally stern expression. The men said nothing as they

brought my motorcycle and gear. They knew better than to speak to me now.

I mounted the bike, pulling on the handlebars with more force than necessary. The engine

roared to life, and I pointed it toward Silver Creek territory.

The silence of the road was deafening after the chaos of battle. I rode slowly, my body aching

from wounds I hadn’t bothered to tend.

I noticed my elongated shadow swaying on the ground beside me. It had never swayed so

much before. After a victory, my shadow had always been straight, resolute–a reflection of my

unwavering confidence.