Crossing the Border (Rania) novel Chapter 240

**He Asked Me to Leave My Dreams, So I Decided to Make Him One of Them by Mira Lorian**

Maximus stood alone in the dimly lit clearing, the tension in the air thick enough to slice through. Once he confirmed that Rania was nowhere to be found, a storm brewed within him—a tempest of rage that had been pent up for far too long. The beast within him surged forth, wild and unrestrained. It had been a considerable time since he had unleashed such fury.

The night erupted with chaos as at least eight warriors lunged at him simultaneously, their desperate attempts to subdue him proving futile. They were like moths drawn to a flame, but this flame was far too fierce for them to handle. Each warrior who dared approach him suffered a vicious backlash, their bodies flung aside as if they were mere playthings.

The king was a force of nature, his black fur glistening under the moonlight as he let out a roar that echoed through the forest. It was a sound that could freeze blood and send shivers down the spine of even the bravest souls. In that moment, the warriors forgot any titles they might have given him; all they could see was the embodiment of pure wrath.

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me. I wanted to challenge the madness that had overtaken Maximus, to confront the darkness that lurked in his heart. These warriors, foolishly underestimating him, deserved to face the consequences of their actions.

“Attack him!” Eric’s voice pierced through the chaos, rallying the remaining warriors who still stood by his side. Fifteen had begun this fight, but now only a handful remained, the others having fallen in the brutal assault on the pack house.

This was a reckless mission, bordering on suicidal. With no sanctuary to retreat to, they knew that if they were to fall, they would drag the king down with them, a twisted sense of honor in their desperation.

That was their plan, but Maximus was not an easy target. Within the span of an hour, he had dispatched six warriors, their bodies left mangled and lifeless—limbs torn from their torsos like discarded toys.

Yet, despite the losses, nine beasts still surrounded the king, Eric among them. He led the remaining warriors in a desperate charge, their eyes burning with the ferocity of their cause. This was their moment, their singular opportunity to bring the king to his knees.

Fueled by their collective rage, they managed to claw at the king’s face, drawing blood. But Maximus’s healing abilities were far beyond that of an average shifter; his wounds closed almost instantaneously, and he retaliated, claiming two more lives in swift, brutal fashion.

Eric’s heart sank as he realized the futility of their struggle. The king showed no signs of fatigue; if anything, his eyes glinted with a twisted amusement as he toyed with his prey, reveling in the chaos of the battle. It was as if this was nothing more than a game to him, a dark delight in the carnage he wrought.

This was the true nature of the mad king.

Eric felt a chill run down his spine. The madness surrounding Maximus was almost palpable, a living thing that thrived on bloodshed. Just as Eric was grappling with his next move—whether to retreat or fight to the bitter end—the king charged forward once more, claiming yet another warrior’s life.

With a vicious snap of his jaws, the black beast seized one of the warriors by the neck, tearing it apart with a primal ferocity that left Eric breathless. The head rolled to a stop at Eric’s feet, a grim reminder of their dire situation.

[Retreat!] Eric’s voice thundered through the mindlink, panic lacing his thoughts. With only six warriors left, and the king systematically eliminating them one by one, their chances of survival dwindled rapidly.

They stood no chance. The king remained unscathed, his wounds healed entirely, while only the blood of his enemies stained his powerful form.

“What? You care about her?” Eric grunted through gritted teeth, a bitter laugh escaping his lips despite the agony. If looks could kill, Maximus would have been a lifeless husk from the hatred radiating from Eric’s eyes. “She’s dead. She fell from the cliff and died.”

Eric’s scream pierced the night as Maximus applied more pressure, his patience wearing thin.

“I won’t ask you again. Answer me, or you’ll beg for death,” Maximus warned, his electric blue eyes darkening, the promise of violence hanging in the air.

But Eric had nothing left to lose.

“Do whatever you want…” He closed his eyes, resigning himself to fate. Maximus remained true to his word, the king’s wrath unleashed as he began to sever Eric’s fingers one by one. The forest echoed with Eric’s screams as Maximus methodically chopped away at his right hand.

“Stop! Stop that! Or I’m going to kill her!” Eric cried out, desperation seeping into his voice.

It was not the threat that halted Maximus, but the familiar scent that wafted through the air, a scent that sent a jolt of recognition through him.