Revenge to the Alpha Mate novel Chapter 250

Chapter 250: Chapter 250

Aurora’s Perspective

My name is Aurora. I’m eighteen, the so-called ‘princess’ of the Moonlight Pack—at least, that’s what everyone around me seems to think. God, listen to that title. How ridiculous.

At eighteen, my life should be full of college parties, road trips, and hilariously bad hookups. Not trapped in this massive, cold mansion of glass and stone, saddled with family duty, having awkward weekly dinners with some other pack’s ‘promising young heir.’

Ethan, my father, Alpha of one of the largest werewolf packs in the state. He’s as steady and unyielding as a glacier. The love in his eyes when he looks at me feels... heavy, like a mountain about to crush my shoulders.

Lily, my mother, once a livewire, now the picture of elegant grace as the pack’s Luna. But her nagging has only gotten stronger—endless lectures on ‘poise,’ ‘duty,’ and ‘suitable matches.’

Then there’s my brother, Lex. Sixteen, the future Alpha-in-training. He’s deep in that insufferable teenage phase, drowning in hormones and self-importance, trying to mimic our father’s stoicism and failing miserably. And Kai, Xavier’s son, seventeen, the future Beta, Lex’s shadow and yes-man. Together, they’re insufferable.

The only person who makes this dull life remotely interesting is Brett. Uncle Jacob and Aunt Selena’s son. Fourteen. God, time flies. I can vaguely remember him as a squalling baby. Now he’s this lanky kid who follows me around like a puppy. He hasn’t had his first shift yet—which is late, and worries Uncle Jacob—but in every other way, he’s like Aunt Selena: quietly, stubbornly clever, with that same intense focus in his brown eyes. He looks up to me like a sister, or... some kind of idol. It’s a responsibility, but honestly? I’d rather hang out with Brett than any of those posturing ‘pack elites.’

Take tonight, for example.

"Are you sure this is safe, Aurora?" Brett’s voice was muffled by the wind, his arms wrapped a little too tightly around my waist from the back of my modified black dirt bike. We were tearing down an unused service road on the city’s industrial fringe, engine roaring, the streetlights blurring into streaks.

"Safe?" I laughed, the sound echoing inside my helmet, full of rebellious glee. "Brett, sweetie, safe is for old people! Hold on!" I cranked the throttle. The bike leaped forward like an angry panther, tires screeching. Adrenaline screamed in my veins. The wind ripped at my leather jacket. It felt incredible—freedom, control, an escape from that damn mansion and its endless expectations.

Brett sucked in a breath behind me but said nothing else, his grip tightening. I knew he loved the thrill too; he was just raised by Jacob and Selena to be cautious, and the delayed shift made him insecure. Taking him out for some chaos was my version of being a ‘responsible’ big sister—showing him the world outside the rules.

We wove through the monstrous shadows of stainless-steel pipes and half-built factories, heading for the winding mountain roads further out. Our secret track. Lots of curves, no cameras. The moon was huge, almost full, casting a silver glow. My wolf blood stirred, craving a real run, but reason and this human skin held it back.

Right after a sharp turn, blinding red-and-blue lights exploded ahead at an intersection! Not one car, but three interceptors, plus bikes! Damn it! Cops? Here? This road was supposed to be deserted!

"Hold on!" I snarled, instantly deciding—*can’t stop!* We’re werewolves, but Brett can’t shift yet. If we’re caught, searched, our parents contacted... it would be a disaster, especially for my ‘respectable’ parents. I had to break through!

I wrenched the handlebars, tires screaming in protest as I veered off the road, charging into the overgrown scrubland beside it. The bike bucked violently over the rough terrain. Brett grunted behind me. Sirens wailed in pursuit as bikes and an SUV plowed off-road after us.

"Aurora!" Brett shouted.

"Don’t panic! Just hold on!" I gritted my teeth, slammed the throttle wide open, relying on werewolf reflexes and night vision to pick a path through the darkness, swerving madly. I knew there was a thick patch of woods a few miles ahead. If we could just reach it...

The chase lasted maybe ten minutes, heart-stoppingly close. A few near-misses with being flanked, avoided only by the bike’s agility and my reckless driving. I could feel Brett’s tension, his heartbeat thudding against my back. Almost there! The tree line was just ahead!

Just as I spotted a gap and aimed for it, the headlights of an old, seemingly abandoned truck to my side flared to life. Its door flew open, and a heavy-duty steel cable—a tripwire—snapped taut across our path!

"FUCK!" No time to react. The front wheel hit the cable. The bike flipped violently, catapulting Brett and me into the air.

A whirl of sky and ground. Impact. Pain. I tucked my head, rolling several times over rough dirt, my leathers scraping on gravel. Werewolf constitution meant I caught my breath quickly—just scrapes and bruises. I snapped my head up, searching for Brett.

He was sprawled a few yards away, clutching his arm. Worse, figures were jumping from the old truck—not in police uniforms, but dark tactical gear, moving with swift, professional precision, heading straight for Brett!

The police cars closed in, but the tac-gear team was faster. One touched something with a faint electrical buzz to Brett’s neck. Brett’s body went rigid, then limp as they hauled him up.

"Brett!" I roared, surging to my feet to charge, but two officers blocked my path, tasers and bright flashlights in hand.

"Miss, you’re under arrest for reckless endangerment and evading arrest! Cooperate!" one barked, though his eyes and his partner’s kept flicking to the men taking Brett away, their expressions... confused?

"Who are they?! Where are you taking him?!" I struggled, my wolf churning with rage and fear, claws threatening to push through my fingertips.

"Not your concern. We’ll handle it," the other cop said coldly, reaching for my arm.

The moment his hand was about to grab me, something inside me snapped. Not a shift, but the raw limit of wolf-speed and strength in human form. I dropped low, dodging his grasp, drove an elbow into his ribs, and as he doubled over with a groan, I bolted into the nearest pocket of darkness.

Shouts and pounding footsteps followed. But I was faster. I knew the dark. I flew over the rubble like a shadow, ducked into a maze of pipes, and lost them using memory and scent.

Only when I was sure I’d shaken them, I stopped behind a massive, rusted storage tank, breathing hard. The scrapes stung, but what chilled me was the scene. That wasn’t a normal bust. Those men in tactical gear, their precision, targeting Brett specifically... and the cops’ weird deference.

Brett was taken. By who? Why?

My mind raced. I had to get back. Warn the pack. Warn Uncle Jacob and Aunt Selena! This was way bigger than getting grounded.

But my bike was wrecked. My phone was lost in the crash. And... if my parents found out I took Brett joyriding and *this* happened...

Damn it! I forced calm. First, get out of this area. Find a safe spot to contact home. *Brett, hang on. I’ll get you out.*

I wiped grime and a trickle of blood from my face, getting my bearings. Just as I was about to move, a sharp, burning pain erupted at the base of my neck—like a giant wasp sting! I spun around, catching only a blur of movement before a powerful paralysis swept through my body. My vision swam, tilted, then went dark.

The older man leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring into mine. "Brett. Have you experienced any... unusual physical changes recently? A sudden increase in strength, for example? Heightened sensitivity to moonlight? Or... difficulty controlling your emotions when agitated?"

My heart slammed against my ribs! What was he asking? What was he hinting at? Did they *know*? About werewolves? Impossible! The pack was always careful. Mom and Dad taught me to hide it since I was little.

"No," I shook my head immediately, trying to look like a normal, scared fourteen-year-old. "I just... run fast sometimes. All boys do." I let my voice quaver on purpose.

The two men exchanged a look. The younger one frowned, typing on his tablet.

They asked a few more harmless questions—about school, my address (I gave a fake one). Then the older man stood.

"Wait here. Someone will be along to process you." He and the younger man walked out. The door closed with a definitive *click* of the lock.

Alone again under the brutal light, my wrists aching from the cuffs, fear began coiling up my spine. They knew *something*.

*Aurora, where are you? Come find me. You’re smart, you can do it. If you’re caught too...* No, don’t think about that.

Time dragged. Hours, maybe? I was hungry, thirsty, my neck still throbbing. Just as I was drifting into an uneasy doze, the door opened again.

This time, it wasn’t the two men. A figure in a one-piece uniform, hat, and face mask walked in, features completely hidden. He carried nothing. Silently, he unlocked one of my cuffs and gestured for me to stand.

I stood, legs stiff. He didn’t speak, just pushed me out of the room, down a dimmer corridor, and through a heavy metal door into another room.

It was a cell. A bare cot. A stainless-steel toilet. The air was stale. And what made me freeze was the person already sitting in the corner.

A man. He looked ragged, unshaven, clothes worn. He was curled up. But when the door clanged shut behind me, he lifted his head.

In that instant, every hair on my body stood up. Not from fear, but from... *instinct*. A feral, wild, alert presence slammed into my senses. A fellow predator. Assessing.

He was a werewolf. I was sure of it.

He stared at me. I stared back. His eyes held an unstable, faint golden glint in the poor light. He didn’t speak. Just watched me, like a lone wolf sizing up a stranger in its territory.

My heart sank like a stone.