Revenge to the Alpha Mate novel Chapter 270

Chapter 270: Chapter 270

Brett’s Perspective

A heavier barrage of fire raked the truck. The guards were pissed. Sparks flew as bullets struck metal. Suddenly, the passenger gunner jolted, a muffled grunt escaping him. He almost dropped his rifle. The fabric over his right shoulder darkened rapidly with blood.

"Damn it! Lycotine rounds! Sneaky bastards!" he snarled, his voice tight with pain. That vile, wolf-specific ammunition designed to slow healing and cause agony.

He immediately tore a strip from his shirt, tying a tight tourniquet above the wound, but his face contorted in pain, his return fire becoming slow and clumsy.

The driver cursed, trying more erratic maneuvers, but with one gunner nearly out, the pressure skyrocketed. The SUVs closed in, even trying to flank us.

Despair washed back in.

Out of the frying pan, into a shooting gallery on wheels?

Then, a new sound. Engines, from the road ahead and to the side. Not one. At least two, approaching fast. Bright lights, coming straight for the firefight.

"Now who the hell is that?!" the driver sounded near his limit.

The new vehicles cut in at an angle, placing themselves between us and the pursuing guard SUVs. Windows rolled down, multiple muzzles appeared. But the first volley wasn’t aimed at our battered pickup.

A storm of lead engulfed the lead guard SUV. Shots slammed into its hood, tires, windows. The vehicle veered out of control, rolled, and crashed into a crumbling brick wall with a fiery explosion.

The other guard SUV slammed on its brakes, scrambling to turn and flee.

One of the new vehicles sped after it, guns blazing. The other executed a perfect slide, blocking the road in front of our pickup. Doors flew open. Figures leaped out, weapons raised, covering us but mostly aiming past us at whatever remained of the pursuit.

One figure ran to the side of our truck, shining a light into the bed, over our bloodied, shell-shocked faces. The beam lingered on me.

"My God... little Brett? Is that really you?" A vaguely familiar male voice. Someone from the Moonlight Pack patrols? I thought I recognized him.

I opened my mouth. No sound came out. I just nodded, all strength leaving me. The pistol clattered from my numb fingers onto the truck bed.

The man immediately barked into his radio, voice tight with excitement. "Confirmed! It’s Brett! Repeat, we have Brett! Need medical support on site! Engagement ongoing, Northern Sentinel personnel injured!"

Moonlight Pack. Our people. *Home.*

The wire inside me, stretched beyond breaking, finally snapped. Everything—the burning vehicle, the moving figures, the urgent shouts—began to swirl and blur. I heard Luka’s shuddering sigh of relief, Scarface’s weak groan, the Northern Sentinel driver explaining things to the newcomers.

Safe? It seemed so.

Darkness, warm and heavy, swept over me like a tide. My last conscious thought before it took me: *Saved.*

Aurora’s Perspective

I paced my bedroom like a wolf trapped in a gilded cage, my steps quick and heavy on the plush carpet, ignoring the expensive weave. Outside the window, the night was pitch black, occasional car lights slicing the edge of the distant woods like watchful eyes.

Every second was torture.

Still no word from Liam.

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