Transmigrated: The Lycan King's Pet-Chapter 365 Our Chance

Alaric’s gaze shifted from Seraphina to me, the moment they landed on me, a look of guilt flickered through his eyes.

Then his eyes landed on Irene’s corpse, and a flash of realization settled on his face. He stepped forward cautiously. "Everyone step down, now."

"Beta, the witches are so ungrateful. We brought them into our home and they tried to kill our Luna." One of the werewolves said with fury.

"We didn’t try to kill her, stop generalising us based on the wrongdoing of one person." One of the witches shot back.

The werewolf who spoke earlier dragged his claws against the ground, growl reverberating in his chest.

"Enough," Alaric said, stepping in between us. His gaze softened and became worried when he saw the trace of blood on Seraphina.

I remained calm in my place, the last conversation I had with Alaric wasn’t really a good one. I knew he still felt guilty for not helping me when Damon rejected me. I wondered how he was going to face me now.

"Ember, are you alright? Were you hurt?" Alaric’s voice snapped me from my thoughts, his eyes scanned my body for any trace of wounds, when he didn’t find any, he let out a breath of relief.

I shook my head. "I’m completely fine," I answered.

He turned to Seraphina. "Are you okay? Your body is weak right now, let me take you back to your room." He reached out to hold Seraphina’s hand but she withdrew her hand from his reach.

"Are you going to pretend that there is no issue with this?" Seraphina asked, a little hurt.

Alaric inhaled. "I’ve already mindlinked Alpha Damon, he will settle this issue, but for now you need treatment." He reached out to grab her hand again.

Seraphina shot her eyes in resignation. "I hope he will give me a better explanation." She withdrew her hand from Alaric’s hand and turned to walk back to her room.

.......

(Third POV)

Alpha Allison crouched behind thick bushes, her eyes fixed on the patrol moving along the edge of the Blood Moon pack territory. Around her were the last survivors of her fallen pack, silent and tense, each of them controlling their breathing as they watched. They had been observing the guards for days, learning their routes, their habits, and the small mistakes they made when they thought no one was watching.

The patrols moved in pairs, walking the boundary with ease and confidence. They were relaxed, almost careless, as if nothing could threaten them. The Blood Moon pack believed they were untouchable, and that belief had made them sloppy.

Allison noticed it just before midnight.

Two guards at the eastern side spoke briefly before switching positions. One moved too early, the other lingered for a moment longer than usual. That small delay created a narrow gap between patrol lines, lasting only seconds, but seconds were enough. It was not planned, just routine and exhaustion dulling their awareness.

"There," Allison whispered softly. "That is our chance."

As the night grew darker and the moon climbed higher, they retreated to the small stone room where the survivors had been hiding. The space was cold and cramped, but it had kept them alive. A single lantern lit the room, casting shadows over tired faces marked by hunger and loss.

Rosa stepped forward, determination burning in her eyes. "Alpha, I will go," she said without hesitation. "I am fast, and I know these woods."

Allison shook her head immediately. "No," she said firmly. "You are still useful here. I need you alive."

Rosa opened her mouth to argue, but one look from Allison made her fall silent.

The room grew quiet. Everyone understood what this mission meant, and no one wanted to say the words out loud.

Then a man slowly raised his hand.

"My name is Micah," he said. His voice was calm, even though fear flickered in his eyes. "I will go."

A heavy sadness filled the room. Micah was young and he was an Omega, but he was not naive. He knew what would happen if he was caught. There would be no rescue, and definitely no mercy.

Allison studied him carefully, then nodded sadly, her fist clenched tightly by her side. She could hope their plans went through. "You must reach Alpha Damon," she said. "You must warn him about the corrupted witches and what is coming. That is all that matters."

Micah bowed his head. "I will not fail, Alpha."

Allison turned to the others. "We will need a distraction."

Three older men stepped forward without hesitation. Their bodies were worn and scarred, but their eyes were fierce. They had already lost too much to fear death.

The plan was whispered and adjusted until everyone understood their role. The diversion would take place at the western ridge, loud enough to pull attention, but far enough to draw patrols away from the gap.

When the moment came, they moved out of the room.

The decoys split off first, moving wide and carefully. One carved deep claw marks into tree trunks, making it look like a rogue attack. Another wore a hood walking swiftly through the night, a bait for the guards. The third let out a sharp, feral howl before disappearing into the trees.

The response was immediate.

Alarms rang through the pack as guards rushed toward the disturbance. Patrols shifted quickly, torches lighting up the western side as orders were shouted into the night.

That was when Allison gave the signal.

Micah did not hesitate, inhaling deeply, he slipped into the shadows, staying low as he moved through the forest. The gap opened exactly as Alpha Allison had predicted, the guards crossing paths without ever noticing him slip past.

He ran so hard that all he could hear was his ragged breath.

Branches tore at his clothes and thorns cut into his skin, but he did not slow down. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, every breath burning as cold air filled his lungs. He used the darkness as cover, moving fast and leaving no clear trail behind him.

If he was caught, he knew what he had to do. The thought sat heavily on his mind.

Ahead, the forest thinned, and Micah stopped just in time.

A group of rogues patrolled the edge of the clearing, their movements rough and dangerous. Their low voices carried through the night, cruel and sharp. One of them paused, sniffing the air as if sensing something out of place.

Cold sweat trickled down Micah’s neck.

He pressed himself against a tree, every muscle tight as he waited, praying to the Goddess that the darkness would keep him hidden, because if they saw him, there would be no second chance.