Chapter 779 - Our kind don’t fuss about women

Chapter 779: Chapter 779 - Our kind don’t fuss about women

The moment Voren handed Jasmine over to Corvine, he chased after Battal and his men, his feet pounding against the earth, his heart burning with a fury he could barely contain.

This was the first time he did not want to kill his enemies or destroy them completely.

He wanted to keep his promise to Jasmine by capturing her enemies for her to face herself, to give her the vengeance she deserved, the justice she had earned with her blood. The need for it burned hotter than any fire.

What Jasmine had gone through in Battal’s hands was something no member of the Grimroot pack should have to go through, and Voren’s fury had reached his neck as he chased after Battal, his vision tunneling, his mind consumed with a single, burning thought of justice.

Corvine followed as soon as he relieved himself of Jasmine’s weight by passing her over to Kael, forgetting to mindlink for the backup as he had planned, his thoughts consumed with pure vengeance that left no room for anything else.

The Lycans had stepped into wolf land, the Grimroot pack borders to be precise, and hurt five of their own. Five of their family. Five of their pack. The knowledge of that violation made Corvine’s blood boil.

Anger laced with vengeance boiled in his blood as he followed after Voren before hearing Voren’s cold, domineering voice cut through the trees, sharp enough to silence the forest itself.

"Battal, stop and fight like a man."

Battal stopped instantly, and so did his men as they turned to face Voren, their bodies tense, their eyes watchful, a cold calculation in every movement.

"King Voren, do you have no respect for your elder?" Battal chastised, his voice dripping with condescension that only fueled Voren’s rage. He was fifty, though he looked like thirty, his body preserved by years of unimaginable training.

Voren scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp, pure contempt rolling off him. "After what you did to my warriors, and my kids’ nanny, you are no elder of mine."

Battal stared at him with interest, his eyes glittering with something that looked almost like amusement, cold and empty. "Your kids’ nanny or your mistress? Our kind don’t fuss about women. They are merely breeders."

Now Voren was learning a few things about these Lycans. It seemed that aside from wanting world dominance, they didn’t even value women, didn’t see them as anything more than vessels for their offspring. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth and a deeper fury in his chest.

"Breeders?" Voren’s voice was ice, each word a blade that cut through the air. "Jasmine isn’t just my kids’ nanny but also a gamma. Then my four warriors." He paused, his eyes never leaving Battal’s face, pure steel in his gaze.

"I demand triple of your men in exchange for my four men. As for Jasmine, it was your hand I saw on her, so I’ll have to take something equal from you."

Battal found it funny, except that their training never allowed them to laugh, never allowed them to show emotion on their faces. It was even difficult for their kinds to display anything beyond cold indifference, and the lack of it only made him more unsettling.

"Voren, since we are going by first names, I’d like to make it clear that the lives we took, I don’t know if they survived, but the poison I used on her is one you’ll never be able to find a cure for." His voice was flat, empty of any remorse. "She deserves it for standing in my way in taking what was rightfully mine."

Voren’s fingers tightened, and his knuckles cracked, the sound sharp in the tense silence, pure rage coiling tighter in his gut.

’He deserves a slow death,’ Bloodfang growled in his mind, the wolf’s fury matching his own, a dark hunger for justice that mirrored Voren’s. ’I’d like to make him suffer for every second of what he did.’

Corvine had arrived and was standing beside Voren, his body tense, his eyes burning with hatred that left no room for mercy. Every word Battal sputtered felt like pain to his chest, a knife twisting in a wound that was still fresh and bleeding.

"What’s rightfully yours? When did we have that agreement?"

"You seem to have a short memory, Voren. At your age, I find it disturbing that you forgot about my warrior, the one your so called Alpha here killed." He glared at Corvine, his eyes cold and empty. Then he removed a document from his jacket pocket.

It was strange that his warriors who had changed shifted before found clothes to wear so easily, their bodies already dressed, their movements fluid and practiced.

Battal held out the document, and due to the distance, Voren had to step closer to read it. It was the agreement the moon goddess had told him about, the alliance between the white wolves and the Lycans, sealed with blood. The sight of it made Voren’s jaw tighten.

"With this document, every white wolf belongs to us." Battal’s voice was calm, certain, as if the words alone could claim what was never his. "And then, you also have our crown. If you can return those, then I will compensate you for the mess I caused with your five members."

The corner of Voren’s lips twitched, a flicker of dark amusement crossing his features, cold and unyielding. "You have an agreement with their predecessors, but the white wolves in question are mine." His voice was steady, unyielding, pure ownership in every syllable.

"The elder is my mate, and the younger my daughter. Do you have any idea about what a mate bond means?"

Battal’s resolve broke slightly at the mention of the mate bond, a flicker of something that might have been uncertainty crossing his face, the first crack in his cold mask.

"The bond doesn’t exist anymore."

"Then why did you think we had the blood moon festival, in which you sent those witches to be killed?" Voren exposed him, his voice sharp with triumph that cut deeper than any blade.

Battal’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with sudden wariness. "You knew I sent them?"

Voren shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the tension in his body and the cold calculation in his eyes. "Ravyn is my rival, and until the blood moon festival, he still wanted my wife. I found it strange that he suddenly moved on when he introduced one of them as his girlfriend."

He explained it in a way that would not expose Ravyn as his spy, a careful dance of words and half-truths that protected what needed protecting. "There’s no way I’d trust someone like him."

Battal’s teeth gritted together, his jaw tight with rage that finally cracked through his indifference. "That reminds me. You owe me for the blood of one of those witches too."

This time, Voren laughed from anger, the sound harsh and bitter, pure fury given voice. "I owe you nothing." His voice was ice, final, leaving no room for argument. "It’s either you give me what I have asked, or I take it by force."