The Villains Must Win
Chapter 175: Lyander Wolfhart 25

Chapter 175: Lyander Wolfhart 25

"Charming welcoming committee," Liora muttered under her breath.

"Don’t speak unless spoken to," Lyander replied quietly, eyes scanning the wolves ahead. "These aren’t the kind you win over with pleasantries."

She arched a brow. "And what do you win them over with? Threats? Blood?"

Lyander didn’t answer. He’d been here before—years ago, briefly, and not by choice. The Stonefangs had no love for outsiders, and even less for diplomacy. They were a pack ruled by brute strength, pride, and the old ways of dominance. If they sensed even a hint of weakness, they’d devour it.

Including us, he thought grimly.

He could take down a handful of them—maybe even more if it came to it—but against the entire pack? That would take a miracle. Especially with Liora right in the middle of them.

"Protect her. That’s our number one priority. I don’t want her hurt or out of our sight." His wolf’s voice echoed firmly in his mind, more insistent than usual.

Lyander exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. Of course. His wolf had grown far too fond of her—possessive, even. It was like watching a predator latch onto something rare and precious for the first time and refusing to let go.

"You’re acting like she’s a new toy," Lyander muttered internally.

"She’s not a toy," the wolf growled. "She’s . . . calming. And she smells like moonlight. Don’t let her die."

Lyander rolled his eyes inwardly but didn’t argue. He didn’t want her hurt either. Not because she was fragile—Liora had proven she was anything but—but because she mattered now. More than she should. More than he’d planned.

And that, frankly, was the most dangerous part of all.

A large figure stepped forward from the pack—bigger than the rest, his shoulders like boulders, his beard streaked with gray. His claws were extended, eyes locked onto Lyander like a challenge.

"Kaius," Lyander said flatly, stopping a few paces from him.

The older wolf sneered. "Didn’t think I’d see your face again, rogue."

Liora stiffened at that, but Lyander didn’t blink. "I’m not here to settle old grudges."

"No," Kaius said, voice rough and booming. "You’re here to beg."

Laughter rippled through the surrounding wolves, cruel and sharp like snapping teeth.

Liora held her ground, chin raised, but her heart thudded. The way they looked at her—as if she didn’t belong, as if she was food—made her skin crawl. She tried to appear unfazed, but even her senses, still muted from lack of mana, were screaming in warning.

"And what’s this?" Kaius narrowed his eyes at Liora, voice sharp with disdain. "You brought a human girl? Is this your offering to us?"

Lyander stepped forward deliberately, placing himself between her and the wolves. "She’s just a messenger here. We came to ask for unity," he said. "There’s a threat coming—stronger than any one pack. You’ve heard of Rhett."

Kaius’s face twisted. "We’ve heard. We’ve also heard that he’s offering more than you ever could. Power. Territory. Revenge."

"I offer survival."

"Spare us your noble speeches," Kaius spat. "You think we’ll bend the knee to a broken lone wolf and his human girl?"

There was a sharp intake of breath behind them, one of the Bloodhowl guards shifting uneasily.

Liora felt the insult like a slap. The nymph inside her snarled in her chest, a low, defensive rumble—barely held back.

But Lyander didn’t flinch. He met Kaius’s gaze with ice in his eyes.

"I don’t want your knee," he said, voice like steel. "I want your teeth. Your strength. Your warriors. If we don’t stand together, Rhett will tear through us all, one pack at a time."

Another silence fell, charged and crackling.

Kaius laughed then, cruel and cold. "And why should we fight beside someone who abandoned the old ways? You have no alpha. No pack. No name worth following."

"I have a cause," Lyander replied. "And I’ve spilled more blood than half your wolves combined. And I’m with Henry now, the Bloodhowl pack."

He could feel Liora’s eyes on him. She hadn’t seen this side of him before—this calm, deadly quiet. Not just a soldier, but a leader. And even though she knew the odds were against them, something in her heart twisted with pride.

Lyander was born to be an Alpha—there was no doubt about it. Liora could understand now why his previous pack had wanted him gone. He was intimidating, commanding, and carried the kind of strength that made others nervous. Powerful, fast, and relentless—he didn’t just look like a threat; he was one.

Then, to her surprise, she stepped forward too.

"Maybe you don’t trust him," she said, her voice steady but clear. "But you should fear what’s coming. Rhett doesn’t offer allegiance—he offers chains. We’re not asking you to serve. We’re asking you to stand. You want your freedom, right? Or do you want to be crushed alone."

A murmur rippled through the wolves.

Kaius’s eyes narrowed at her. "You’ve got a sharp tongue for such a fragile little human."

Liora flashed him a sweet, unbothered smile. "It only comes out when I catch the scent of weakness."

The pack snarled. Weapons shifted. The air turned deadly.

But Kaius raised a hand, stopping his wolves. He looked between Lyander and Liora with something almost like curiosity—and something darker beneath.

Kaius stood tall, the firelight casting deep shadows across his hardened face as he addressed the circle of wolves surrounding them.

"Strength," he declared, voice sharp and resonant, "is the only law that matters. That is the way of our kind—the ancient way. Titles, treaties, words—none of it means a damn thing without teeth behind them."

His gaze cut back to Lyander with venomous challenge. "If you want to speak, if you want us to listen, then prove yourself. Defeat me—and my five betas—and we’ll talk."

Gasps and low murmurs rippled through the gathered wolves. Even among packs who valued dominance, such a demand was brutal. Unfair. Ruthless.

Liora’s jaw clenched. Her fists balled at her sides. "That’s not a challenge—that’s a slaughter."

But before she could step forward or spit fire back at Kaius, Lyander’s hand shot out in front of her, barring her path. His grip didn’t touch her, but the silent command was enough to halt her.

"I accept," he said calmly.