Chapter 780 - Shame on him

Chapter 780: Chapter 780 - Shame on him

Battal was about to say something when Voren began to explain his demand, his voice cold and measured, every word edged with controlled fury.

"The warrior Corvine killed contested for the hand of a princess. It was a competition, and your warrior lost." He paused, letting the words sink in, pure contempt in his tone. "Shame on him."

Battal’s gaze darkened at Voren’s words, his jaw tightening with barely suppressed rage that made his eyes burn, but Voren was not done.

"The witch you sent to my pack to steal the crown deserved to die because she trespassed, so technically, you killed her by sending her over." His voice was steady, unyielding, leaving no room for argument.

"The crown you claim to be yours will be returned, but not to you. You have committed too many crimes to wear it. If I meet a Lycan worthy enough to wear it, I shall release it, but as for those two white wolves, you have no right to lay claim to them."

Battal could not accept defeat. He needed those white wolves, especially the younger one, needed their blood, needed the immortality she held.

Without them, everything he had worked for, everything he had sacrificed, would be for nothing. The desperation of it twisted hard in his chest.

"Then this war would never stop, and you’ll have to lock them in that pack of yours till eternity." His voice was sharp, desperate, the edge of fear creeping in. "If they ever come out here, we shall take what’s rightfully ours."

Voren’s anger nearly exploded at those words, and Bloodfang growled through him, the sound low and menacing, a rumble of thunder before the storm, pure protective rage filling every nerve.

"Enough is enough. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you."

"Warn me?" Battal argued, his voice rising with defiance. "I’m just claiming what’s rightfully mine."

"You tried to kidnap my daughter and almost killed her nanny in the process." Bloodfang’s voice was a growl, primal and furious, the words dripping with lethal promise. "Battal, your life is not enough to pay for it."

Then he spoke only to Voren’s hearing, his voice quiet, urgent, concern cutting through the fury.

’Did using the powers make you weak?’

’Yes.’ Voren’s response was honest, strained, the admission tasting bitter. ’That’s why I haven’t attacked yet. I’m trying to regain enough strength, so don’t use it again until we figure out how.’

’Or, until our mate gets here,’ Bloodfang reminded him.

Voren was sorely afraid, his heart clenching with a fear he couldn’t name, pure protectiveness rising hard and fast. ’She’s pregnant, Bloodfang.’

’I know, but we need her.’

’No.’ Voren’s voice was firm, final, leaving no room for debate. ’She already used enough powers to heal those warriors. Let’s do this on our own.’

He glared at Battal, his eyes burning with a fury that could set the world on fire, every muscle coiled with readiness.

"I promised my nanny that she will have revenge on you. Battal, surrender, or I’ll force you."

"Never." Battal refused, his gaze dark, his jaw set with stubborn pride. Failing again and facing those elders was something he didn’t want to do, something he couldn’t bear.

He would rather go against the Grimroot pack to claim what was theirs, to fight until his last breath, the alternative too shameful to face.

Voren looked at the number of warriors with Battal, his mind calculating, his heart heavy with the odds. If he engaged Battal and Corvine engaged the next person, there would be at least eight more, and since Voren could not use his powers, they were technically outnumbered. The realization left a cold weight in his gut.

’Corvine, did you call the warriors to come?’

Corvine was about to respond when gunshots rang through the air, sharp and sudden, shattering the tense silence. Three of Battal’s men were injured but still alive, their bodies crumpling, their growls turning to howls of pain that echoed through the trees.

"You!" Battal’s voice was a roar, his eyes blazing with fury that cracked through his usual cold mask. "You are the one who stole the guns from Alpha Ravyn."

His anger burned, hot and fierce, but Voren shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the tension in his body and the quiet satisfaction in his chest. He was glad his backup had made it on time, glad the plan had worked.

"What do you think?" His voice was dry, almost amused. "Like I said, I can’t trust him, and as the King, I have eyes everywhere."

Battal lunged at him, his body a blur of motion, but Voren did not dodge. He faced him squarely, his feet planted, his eyes steady, as they engaged in a fierce fight, their bodies colliding with the force of two mountains crashing together, pure power and rage meeting head on.

The warriors who had been shot began to shift to beast forms, their bodies contorting, their bones cracking, their forms twisting into something monstrous.

The remaining ones dodged the gunshots, their movements fluid and fast, and changed to Lycan forms as well, their beasts towering over the werewolves, shadows of pure threat.

Corvine shifted to his wolf form allowing Sword control as he battled one of them, his fangs and claws against the Lycan’s superior strength, every movement driven by fierce protectiveness.

The other werewolf warriors were no match for the Lycans, their bodies breaking under the onslaught, except for Damon, who was hiding in the bush and had also engaged another one, his movements careful, his attacks precise and determined.

Battal and Voren’s fight was fierce, neither of them allowing the other to dominate. Battal shifted to Lycan form, his beast enormous, terrifying, and Voren gave Bloodfang control, the shift seamless and filled with shared purpose.

’Don’t kill him.’ Voren’s voice was sharp in Bloodfang’s mind, urgent and absolute. ’Jasmine has to see his downfall.’

Battal’s beast was so huge, it carried Bloodfang and threw him hard on the floor, the impact shaking the ground. But Bloodfang growled, leaped, and sank his canine into the neck of Battal’s Lycan, his teeth tearing through fur and flesh with pure, relentless fury.

He healed fast, too fast, it was as if Bloodfang was fighting in vain. No matter the injuries he caused the beast, it healed like the wind, the wounds closing before his eyes, and the frustration of it burned hot in both of them.

Without consulting Voren, Bloodfang used his powers, sending all the beasts including that of Battal to clash against each other, their bodies colliding, their roars filling the air, giving the werewolf warriors a little breathing time and a surge of desperate hope.

’There’s black magic protecting them,’ Bloodfang complained, his voice tight with frustration that matched Voren’s own.

Voren encouraged him, his voice steady and unyielding. ’We already know that, but we don’t give up. We just aren’t made that way.’

Suddenly, five of the Lycan warriors were being drained, their bodies weakening, their powers flowing into Quinn, who had transferred the energy she drained to Damon.

Battal’s beast shifted to human form, his eyes wide with shock, and before Bloodfang could attack, he growled, his voice carrying through the trees, pure alarm in every word.

More Lycans invaded the woods, their forms emerging from the shadows like nightmares made flesh, the numbers suddenly overwhelming.

Battal’s gaze landed on Quinn, his eyes burning with recognition, with fury, with something that looked almost like triumph that made Voren’s blood run cold.

"Where did you get her?" His voice was sharp, demanding, filled with possessive rage. "She’s ours. She was produced in our lab."