Alpha's Regret After the Divorce by Christina novel Chapter 158

Red Mask’s voice reverberated ominously throughout the cavern, sending an icy shiver racing down my spine. “Bring them to me. Alive.” The command was sharp, unyielding.

In an instant, a dozen robed figures pivoted towards us, their eyes gleaming eerily in the cold blue light cast by the crystals embedded in the cavern walls. My heart pounded fiercely against my ribs as I quickly took stock of our dire situation—two of us against at least twelve enemies, with who knows how many lurking unseen in the shadows. The only exit behind us was now blocked, as more guards steadily advanced.

I whispered into my earpiece, trying to keep my voice calm despite the tension. “Any backup? Status?”

The reply was a disjointed mix of static and fragments of Rebecca’s voice. “…signal weak… attempting… hold position…”

Fantastic. We were completely on our own for the moment.

“Andy,” I murmured without diverting my gaze from the encroaching figures, “I count twelve visible hostiles, probably more hidden. Red Mask is at two o’clock near the stone pool.”

Andy’s muscles tensed beside me, his breath steady. “Ready when you are.”

I gripped my silver blade tighter, feeling the weight of everything that had led to this moment—three years of grueling training, every lesson culminating here. “Don’t die,” I said simply, more to myself than to him.

Suddenly, Andy sprang forward, his body twisting midair as he shifted into his wolf form. The transformation was fluid and practiced—dark fur erupted over his skin, bones cracking and reshaping within seconds. His powerful wolf form crashed into the nearest three robed figures, sending them sprawling across the cold stone floor.

Seizing the distraction, I darted toward the left flank where two guards were rushing to intercept me. The first lunged with clawed hands—already partially transformed. I ducked beneath his grasp and slashed upward with my silver blade. The knife bit into his forearm, slicing through fabric and flesh. He howled in agony as the silver seared his skin, preventing his werewolf healing from kicking in.

The second guard circled me cautiously, his movements sharp and practiced. “You picked the wrong ritual to crash, little girl,” he snarled, venom dripping from his words.

I didn’t waste breath responding. Words were useless in the heat of battle. Instead, I feinted left, then spun right as he moved to block me. My knee drove hard into his stomach, followed by an elbow crashing down on the back of his neck. He crumpled to the ground, stunned for a moment.

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