Defy The Alpha(s) novel Chapter 223

Chapter 223: Red Dragon Gang

The man was fast. Desperately fast like one who knew his life was on the line and intended to fight against fate. But Asher was faster.

The chase took them through the grimy, twisting alleys of Rustwood Park, a maze of trailers, sheds, and scattered debris. The stench of damp asphalt, rotting food, and the metallic tang of urban decay filled the air, mingling with the adrenaline thrumming in Asher’s veins.

Up ahead, the man threw a metal trash bin into his path in a desperate bid to slow him down, the garbage clattering and spilling across the narrow path. But Asher bounded over it in a single, effortless leap, not even a grunt leaving his lips.

The sight of that made the stranger’s eyes widen in terror. "Fucking hell!" He cursed, heart thundering as he ran deeper into the maze of narrow alleyways.

The faint sputter of dying street lamps occasionally illuminated the twisting corners, enabling him to wove between the clustered trailers, but Asher was closing in, the gap between them shrinking with every second.

Asher could have ended this already and taken the man down in an instant, but the bastard knew the backstreets well, twisting through its paths with the instincts of a rat scurrying through its burrow. But then, no matter how well he knew the terrain, no human could outrun a wolf.

At first, some of the trailer residents had been outside, smoking, drinking, talking in loud voices and cracking jokes; simply enjoying the night. But the instant they saw the chase, every single one of them vanished.

With lightning speed, they slammed their doors close with the locks clicking into place. Curtains snapped shut as wary eyes watched from behind glass. Clearly, scenes like this were commonplace here, and no one wanted to become involved.

The man rounded a corner past another row of trailers and hesitated, momentarily unsure of the path ahead. That single heartbeat of indecision gave Asher the opening he needed to surge forward, boots pounding on the cracked pavement like a dark storm approaching.

The man spotted him coming, and yelped in alarm, his panic sending him stumbling into a stack of old wooden pallets leaning against a shed. The entire pile came crashing down, directly into Asher’s path.

Asher twisted sideways to dodge the tumbling pile, and though he managed to keep his balance, he lost a precious second, enough for the man to reach a rusted, partially damaged chain-link fence. Scrambling, he climbed, his limbs moving with the desperate agility of a street survivor.

Asher came to a stop, watching as the man swung his leg over the top and landed on the other side, panting. But instead of running now he had the chance, the man turned back nervously and watched him. Why wasn’t Asher chasing him?

Except he got his answer the moment Asher took several steps back to gain momentum.

"Oh fuck," the man whispered, dread sinking into his gut.

Asher launched himself up and over the fence in an impossible leap, landing in front of him with a thud that shook the ground beneath him.

The man fell back onto the dirt, his mouth parting in terror as realization dawned on him. He was dealing with a werewolf.

There were rarely any werewolves in District One. None of them liked this crime-ridden wasteland and once the epicenter of the great war.

Before the man could finish that thought, Asher was already on him, gripping him by the throat and slamming him back against a tree. They were in a neglected patch of woods now—ironic, given that this was the last place anyone should try to outrun a wolf.

The man gasped, his fingers clawing at Asher’s grip as he stammered, "No, no—please! Don’t kill me! You have her already!"

Asher paused, his brows knitting together.

The fuck?

His grip tightened. "What do you mean ’I have her already’? What were you doing in Nancy’s trailer?"