TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 459

N TO YOUR HEAD

• 25 Points

CHAPTER 382: GUN TO YOUR HEAD

EMBER’S POV

Knox matches their fury like a true beast.

There’s no roar or hesitation to his steps. He just moves with a brutal, blunt-force violence, carried out with the terrifying speed of an apex predator trapped in a bespoke suit.

The first rogue reaches him, and Knox catches the outstretched arm, twists, and snaps the elbow with a wet crack, using the man’s own momentum to hurl him into the second.

They go down in a heap of limbs and splintered wood.

But I can see what the dead-nettle poison is doing to him. Any other night, Knox is a blur, an

untouchable force of nature.

Tonight he’s grounded, fighting a desperate war of attrition, hauling a body that’s running on half its usual blood.

A blade flashes from his blindside. He dodges a fraction of a second too late, and the steel opens a bright wet line across his jaw.

He doesn’t so much as blink; he just buries his fist in the attacker’s throat with a sickening brutality, but his chest is heaving now, and it shouldn’t be.

“Behind me,” he barks, blood running down his neck, his eyes already tracking the next wave. “Fist the jacket, Ember. Do not let go.”

“I’ve got you-”

A rogue lunges for me from the side, slipping past Knox’s massive frame.

I don’t think. Muscle memory takes the wheel, exactly the way he drilled into me at five in the morning while I plotted his death.

I don’t try to out-muscle the man.

I drive my stiletto heel into his instep with every pound of my weight behind it, and he screams, buckling forward, and as he folds I smash my elbow up into the soft cartilage of his nose.

He drops to the floor, gagging on his own blood.

I reach down and snatch a broken highball glass off a broken roulette table, gripping the

stem like a knife.

CHAPTER 382 GUN TO YOUR HEAD

+25 Points

“Next,” I snarl, my voice breaking, and some feral, terrifyingly thrilled corner of my brain lights

Knox snaps a man’s wrist, breathing hard, and finds my eyes across the carnage.

He looks at my bloody glass. He looks at the rogue writhing at my feet.

Even bleeding, outnumbered, poisoned down to half of himself, his eyes flare with approval.

“Stay behind me,” he orders, and his eyes rake down me once, blood on his jaw and heat in his voice. “Goddess, you’re magnificent like this. I’d take you against the wall right now if this place weren’t on fire.”

“Stop talking and hit someone!” I duck a swinging chain. “Watch your left!”

He catches the chain out of the air, wraps it around his fist, and yanks the rogue forward into his rising knee.

“I can multitask,” he grunts. “I’m simply processing that you’re the most majestic thing I’ve ever seen, and you’re doing it with a measly glass. We’re revisiting this at home.”

“We’re going to die, and you’re flirting!” I slash the glass at a grabbing hand and open a line of

red.

“I never die on nights I’m this attracted to you. It’s a rule.” He puts a man straight through a large oak card table, the wood bursting into kindling.

But there are too many of them.

The poison drags on him the whole time, an anchor he can’t cut loose, and for every rogue he drops, two more pour through the gilded doors.

We’re going under in bodies. A large pipe catches Knox across the ribs, and he grunts, staggering half a step, and my heart slams up into my throat.

The room keeps closing in, a tightening noose of tattoos and blades, and I understand with cold and absolute certainty that we are going to lose this by sheer difference in numbers.

We need the backup plan.

The one thing we agreed on before we ever set foot in this mountain, the failsafe for exactly this: if it all went to hell, we call Nathaniel, and Nathaniel brings the sky down on this place.

My hand dives for my true phone hidden against my thigh.

I never reach it.

CHAPTER 382 GUN TO YOUR HEAD

Because the wave breaking over us isn’t just men anymore.

Fur rips through the front line, bone twisting and reshaping, and feral rogues drop onto four legs mid-stride, wolves pouring through the gilded doors with their teeth bared, and there is no getting a phone to my ear in this, no dialling, no calling anyone.

There’s no space and no time and no hands to spare, and Nathaniel might as well be on another continent.

So I do the only thing left to do.

I reach for her.

I go down into that cold silver place the way Knox has been teaching me, deliberate,

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