The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna
Chapter 35 Was He Too Late?

Chapter 35: Chapter 35 Was He Too Late?

"I’m Elric, a mage..." the elder introduced himself, though his voice carried hesitation. He glanced around, confusion flickering in his eyes—he, too, seemed unsure of why he was there. There was only one explanation forming in his mind, and his gaze shifted back to Addison, though he couldn’t yet confirm it.

Suddenly, another blood-curdling roar echoed from deep within the forest—closer this time. It was followed by several agonized screams, and the wind carried with it the stench of fresh blood.

The two men standing in front of Elric wrinkled their noses in disgust. Even the man holding Addison frowned as he turned to look behind them.

They all knew they couldn’t linger much longer. Alpha Zion was drawing near, and with each passing second, the pressure and bloodlust radiating from him grew heavier and more suffocating.

Then the elder spoke, his voice firm yet urgent. "Here! This way, quickly!"

When the two turned to look, a portal had opened beside him—its bluish hue glowing softly, casting a pale light that shimmered across the surrounding trees. Though it illuminated the area, the glow was discreet, subtle enough not to alert anything lurking in the forest to its presence. A silent escape, a way to vanish from where they stood and reappear elsewhere.

But as they stared at the swirling gateway, one pressing question lingered between them:Could they really trust this elder?

For all they knew, the portal could lead to an even more dangerous place. Escaping the frying pan only to leap into the fire was a risk they couldn’t afford—especially with Addison, who looked like she was hanging on by a thread. The two men hesitated, their instincts urging caution. But the elder seemed to sense their doubt.

"I am the Royal Mage, Elric Zimmerman," he said calmly, his eyes steady. "I’m here by the order of the Alpha King—but it appears what I’ve come for is already in your hands." He gestured toward Addison.

The two men raised their eyebrows, following the direction of his finger, then glanced down at the unconscious woman. Still, they weren’t fools. Titles and words were easy to fake, and anyone could claim to be someone they weren’t. Trust would not come easily.

But the two men remained rooted to the spot, silent and unmoving. Seeing this, and aware that time was running out, Elric knew he could no longer afford to maintain secrecy.

Without another word, he reached into his robe and pulled out a royal badge—emblazoned with the Royal Allegiance’s blood pact. This token, granted only to those outside the werewolf race who could not swear fealty in the traditional way, was a rare and sacred item.

It served as undeniable proof of loyalty to the Alpha King and marked its bearer as someone trusted by the royal family.

Upon seeing the badge, the two men were clearly taken aback. After a brief moment of hesitation, they exchanged a glance—then threw caution to the wind. With Alpha Zion closing in fast, they didn’t have the luxury of doubt.

Even if this mage was leading them into a trap, it was a risk they were willing to take. At least it would buy them time—time to think, to act, and maybe to survive—rather than stand still and wait for Alpha Zion to tear them apart.

And so, the three of them passed through the portal. By the time Alpha Zion arrived, a fallen warrior with severed head clenched between his jaws, there was no one left. Yet, the faint trace of residual energy still lingered in the air—someone had been there moments ago. Zion growled, sensing the remnants of a presence slipping away.

Shura felt a sharp pang in his chest, the aftershock of the rejection tearing violently through him.

The pain was unbearable.

Shura couldn’t take it; instead, he subconsciously shrank back deep inside Zion’s consciousness to lick his wounds. As a result, Zion stumbled, clutching his chest as the weight of rejection overwhelmed him. Within seconds, his body gave out, and he collapsed, unconscious—his system unable to endure the trauma this time.

As for Beta Greg—the bastard had luck on his side. When Shura found him, he was just a few meters away from Gamma Levi, who had passed out from severe blood loss. Ironically, Levi’s condition saved his life; assuming Levi was already dead, Shura ignored him completely and charged straight for Greg.

But since Beta Greg had fled the moment he realized Alpha Zion had gone berserk. By the time Zion caught up to him, Greg was already nearing the edge of the pack’s territory—just steps away from crossing the border. Beyond it lay the rogue’s territory, and further still, the vampire domain. He was gambling everything on his escape, throwing all caution to the wind.

Just as he was about to cross the threshold—

Swoosh!

"Argh!" Beta Greg screamed at the top of his lungs, stumbling back while clutching the gory stump of his right arm. "My arm! Fuck!"

His eyes burned red with pain and rage as he looked up—only to be met by the hulking black wolf looming in front of him. Shura’s massive frame, soaked in blood, melted into the shadows of the night, save for his glowing crimson eyes that pierced through the darkness. Greg flinched instinctively, terror crawling down his spine—but the agony in his body screamed louder than his fear.

His severed arm dangled grotesquely from Shura’s bloodied jaws, and a low, menacing hiss of steam curled from the wolf’s mouth.

The growl that rumbled from Shura’s throat sounded like a death knell—low, cold, final. Greg froze, his blood running cold. For a moment, he was sure this was the end.

But then, Shura’s ears twitched. His head tilted slightly, as if catching a distant sound. Without warning, the massive wolf turned away from Greg and bolted, crashing through the forest like a storm. Every creature in his path was torn down without hesitation.

Greg collapsed to his knees, shaking. Once again, luck had spared him—but only for now. He knew Alpha Zion. This was no mercy. It was a distraction. And when Zion returned, he’d finish what he started.

Greg gritted his teeth and pressed his remaining hand over the bleeding stump of his arm, desperately trying to stem the flow. His body’s natural healing was too slow.

"Fuck!" he hissed through clenched teeth, only now noticing the gaping wound torn into his right side. One inch deeper, and his intestines would’ve spilled out.

Greg bit down hard on his lip, muffling the cries of pain that threatened to escape. He didn’t dare make a sound—not with Shura still nearby. One wrong noise, and the beast might come charging back to finish the job.

Using every ounce of strength he had left, Greg dragged his broken body away from Midnight River Pack’s territory, leaving a trail of blood behind him, praying he wouldn’t stumble into a group of rogues beyond the border. With his injuries, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

As for Shura—why had he suddenly bolted?

It was instinct. In the haze of rage and bloodlust, something pierced through: a voice. Addison’s voice.

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