A Werewolf's Unexpected Mate-Chapter 70: Nightfall’s Fury

Ovelia’s POV

The battlefield unfolded before me—a living nightmare clawing at the edges of my vision. The scent of damp earth and iron filled the air, mingling with the acrid tang of burning canvas. Through the skeletal gaps in the trees, I caught glimpses of the fight:

Ann moved like shadow given form, her dark fur rippling as she wove between two hulking werewolves. Her claws flashed, precise and lethal, each strike leaving crimson trails in the moonlight. Nearby, Philip danced around Khaleed’s spear thrusts, his daggers flickering like silver minnows in a moonlit stream. Ray was a blur of silver and orange, his movements fluid as he left unconscious bandits in his wake.

And then there was Ace.

My breath hitched as I watched him—his massive silver form colliding with the monstrous black werewolf. The impact sent tremors through the earth, rattling the roots beneath me. Each clash of fang and claw echoed like thunder, the sheer force of it vibrating in my bones.

A whimper escaped my lips before I could stifle it. My fingers dug into the rough bark of the tree I clung to, splinters biting into my skin. The memories surged—black fur, hot breath, pain lancing through my side. My legs gave way, and I slid down the trunk, collapsing into a tight ball at its base. I wrapped my arms around my knees, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

That monster is gone. Ace is here. Ace won’t let anything hurt me.

The mantra did little to steady my racing heart. The forest around me was too loud—the crackle of flames, the snarls of combat, the wet thud of bodies hitting the ground. Then—a rustle in the nearby bushes.

My pulse spiked.

Not again. Please, just be an animal. Just be a rabbit.

Ann’s POV

The last bandit crumpled beneath my strike, his head lolling as I secured the magic cuffs around his wrists. The iron gloves I’d scavenged from one of them kept the chains’ draining effect at bay, though the metal already felt uncomfortably warm against my fur. My wolf thrummed with exhilaration beneath my skin—this was what we’d been trained for, what we’d missed in our years of servitude.

The witch stood twenty paces away, her wand tracing frantic patterns in the air. Sweat plastered her green-streaked hair to her forehead, but her mana showed no signs of depletion.

"Incendia!" Her shriek cut through the battle noise.

I pivoted on my hind paws as a volley of fire darts streaked past, close enough that I felt their heat ripple my fur. Behind me, canvas erupted into flames, the sudden blaze illuminating her snarling face.

"You dodged my attack, and now my magic burned our tent!" Spittle flew from her lips with each word.

I cocked my head, ears twitching. "Are you hearing yourself?" My voice came out flat, devoid of the amusement I felt.

Her lips peeled back in a grotesque smile. "Come closer, beast. Let’s see if you can handle the heat." The wand tip glowed crimson.

I didn’t blink. "Fire won’t save you." The words left my muzzle in a steam of breath.

The blazing orb she hurled singed the air, leaving visible heat distortions in its wake. I rolled left, feeling the fire kiss my flank as I came up running. My paws barely touched the ground as I closed the distance.

"Cauter!" A wall of flames erupted between us.

"Too slow!" I lunged through the flames. The stench of burning fur filled my nose, but the pain was distant, irrelevant. All I saw were her eyes—wide, pupils shrinking in terror as she stumbled back over gnarled roots. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"Stay back!" Her voice cracked.

One swipe. That was all it took. Her wand spun through the air before clattering onto stone. The fire sputtered out like a dying breath.

I was on her before she could scream, my weight pressing her into the loam. My breath stirred her filthy hair as I growled, "Sleep."

The heel of my palm connected with her temple—just enough force. Her body went slack beneath me. I stood, brushing embers from my smoldering fur. "Rest well," I murmured. "You’ll need it for questioning."

The magic cuffs I found nearby were worthless against witches, but the metallic click as I secured them still brought satisfaction. Her wand snapped easily between my claws, the broken halves hissing as their magic dissipated into the night.

Ray’s POV

The clearing stank of sweat and blood, the metallic tang thick in the air. Bandits circled me, their ragged breathing uneven, their hands clutching lengths of black chain that rattled with every movement. The largest of them—their so-called acting beta—rolled a coil of iron links between his scarred fingers, the metal glinting with unnatural light.

"Think you’re special with that fancy fur?" His teeth flashed in a mockery of a smile. "Let’s see how royal blood holds up against cold iron."

I straightened to my full height, letting my silver-and-orange pelt ripple in the firelight. The growl that escaped my throat vibrated deep in my chest. "You’re playing with forces you don’t understand."

He struck without warning, the chain hissing through the air like a striking viper. I twisted aside, feeling the displaced air brush against my whiskers. Another bandit took the opening to swing his cuffs at my legs—predictable. My hind paws left the ground as I somersaulted over the attack, landing in a crouch with claws extended.

"Quit prancing around like some noble’s pet!" the beta snarled, spittle flying from his muzzle. The chain trembled in his grip, betraying his exhaustion.

I bared my teeth in what might have been mistaken for a smile. "A Silverhowl doesn’t brawl."

My muscles coiled as I feinted left, then pivoted right with lethal grace. My claws flashed, severing the nearest bandit’s chain at its weak link. The severed metal hit the dirt with a dull thud, his stunned expression almost comical.

Their circle fractured. Doubt flickered in their eyes. I didn’t relent—left paw disarming, right paw striking pressure points, my movements economical, controlled. One after another, they crumpled.

The beta came last, his chest heaving as I drove him onto his back. My claws rested against his pulse point, the frantic beat of his heart thrumming against my pads. I leaned close, my voice low. "Sleep."

A single, measured strike to his temple. His eyes rolled back before his body went slack.

The magic cuffs clicked shut around each unconscious wrist with satisfying finality. "Rest well," I murmured. "Your trial awaits."

I sank onto a nearby log, my breath steadying as I surveyed the battlefield. Ann stood over her subdued witch, shaking embers from her fur. Philip was binding Khaleed’s hands with far more enthusiasm than necessary. Only Ace remained engaged, his silver form a blur against the black alpha’s bulk—but even from here, I could see the tide turning.

The end was coming. Swift. Inevitable.