The Apocalyptic Queen's Werewolf Journey (Thora and Darius) novel Chapter 482

The moment those words left his lips, every member of Greywolf surged forward as if they'd been injected with adrenaline, their assault growing fiercer by the second.

Frost, Mace, and Sierra's wolf power spiked instantly as they threw themselves into battle against Greywolf's top fighters.

Frost's eyes were bloodshot as he charged straight for Lance.

Mace was formidable on his own, but under the combined assault of Sharkie, Julio, and the others, he was quickly overwhelmed.

In the end, it was Julio's silver claws—laced with an aura of death—that pierced clean through Mace's body, practically impaling him on the blades. Only then did the struggle come to its brutal conclusion.

Sharkie and Alissa both wore looks of irritation—Julio always swooped in to steal the kill.

A sharp glint passed through Thora's eyes. She knew Greywolf rarely engaged in direct confrontation, but Lance's inner circle—Sharkie and the rest—were each terrifyingly powerful in their own right.

Compared to Ashwolf, Greywolf's individual combat ability was on another level entirely. Outside of Thora herself, Ashwolf's strongest fighter was Tristan. But every single one of Lance's top operatives was at least Tristan's equal, if not stronger.

Greywolf's people had spent their entire lives dancing on the edge of death. Their combat ability existed for one purpose alone—survival, mission completion, and killing. Ashwolf's strength lay in teamwork and coordination, where every member had checks and balances. At the end of the day, they were still "normal people," and against a pack of rule-breaking lunatics like Greywolf, their raw hitting power fell just a step short.

That was the difference between Greywolf and Ashwolf. And it was the difference between her and Lance.

The battle was nearing its end.

Even with Frost and Sierra fighting together, they were no match for Lance. He held them both at bay with effortless control.

Thora knew that both Frost and Sierra possessed B-rank abilities. Sierra's power amplified her stealth techniques and twin daggers, making her the more dangerous fighter of the two. Frost, by comparison, was relatively unremarkable.

Sure enough, Sierra's twin daggers shot toward Lance like bolts of lightning, vanishing mid-flight. She herself disappeared along with them, her stealth techniques erasing every trace of her presence.

A flicker of amusement sparked in Lance's eyes. He planted one foot on Frost's chest, the sole of his black combat boot grinding down hard, pinning him in place.

Then Lance's ear twitched. A blade sliced past, barely grazing his earlobe. A second blade followed right on its heels.

Lance's gaze sharpened. His ability activated in an instant, and the two blades still in mid-flight slammed into the ground as if yanked down by an invisible hand.

Thora's brow creased slightly—he'd altered gravity.

"Aah!"

Sierra was suddenly struck by an unseen force, hurled through the air, and smashed into the ground, unable to move.

Alissa rushed forward to pin Sierra down, dagger in hand, ready to finish her on the spot—but a single gesture from Lance stopped her cold.

Thora's fingers tapped lightly against her thigh, a quiet understanding passing through her gaze—Lance was avenging his own. And in that regard, the two of them were startlingly alike.

Lance's lips curved as his black boot slowly drifted toward Frost's throat. One more stomp and his windpipe would collapse. Dead on the spot.

"No! Don't!" Sierra's face was drenched in tears as she thrashed against her restraints. "Please, let Frost go!"

Frost continued to glare coldly at Lance. Only when he heard Sierra's voice did he painfully turn his head to look at her.

He forced a bitter, broken smile and used every last scrap of strength to whisper, "Sierra... I'm all you have left. If I die, you should follow me... I'd hate for you to be alone in this world..."

Sierra bit down on her lip so hard it bled, tears pouring down her face in rivers.

Something in Frost's words made Lance's gaze flicker. The boot that had been about to come down suddenly stopped, then slowly lifted away from Frost's body.

He turned his attention to Sierra, still pinned by Alissa, and spoke with a tone of genuine curiosity. "You want to save him?"

The moment those words landed, Alissa, Sharkie, and the rest all furrowed their brows—was their boss really about to let them walk?

Lance ignored the confusion rippling through his ranks. He shifted his gaze back to Thora, still perched atop the cargo truck, and called out to Sierra. "Go beg her. If she agrees to speak on your behalf, I'll let him go."