The Villains Must Win
Chapter 177: Lyander Wolfhart 27

Chapter 177: Lyander Wolfhart 27

Liora watched, breath caught in her throat, as Lyander stepped forward. There was something terrifyingly beautiful in his movements—fluid, lethal, graceful like a predator in his prime. His muscles coiled beneath his skin like barely leashed lightning.

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, not just with fear—but awe.

The first Beta lunged.

Lyander met him head-on.

The air snapped.

In a breath—no, less than a breath—Lyander was in motion.

His body surged forward, a ripple of muscle and purpose, and before the first Beta could even finish his growl, Lyander leapt—

—and shifted mid-air.

Bones cracked and reformed with brutal elegance. His limbs elongated, his spine curved, fur burst across his skin like wildfire. The air filled with the deep, visceral sound of transformation, flesh and magic twisting into one seamless, terrifying form.

Where the man had once stood, a massive wolf collided with the oncoming Beta like a bolt of lightning tearing through a storm.

He was enormous.

Slate-gray fur rippled over thick muscle, darker along his spine like the shadow of a storm cloud. His eyes—still his, still Lyander’s—glowed with molten gold, burning with a cold fury that stole the breath from any who dared to meet them.

The first Beta never stood a chance.

Lyander’s jaws clamped down on the wolf’s shoulder with bone-snapping force, the sheer momentum of the impact sending both of them tumbling into the dirt in a flurry of snarls and claws. But only one rose again.

Lyander.

He rose like death given form—blood staining his fangs, his chest heaving, and not a scratch on him. The crowd of wolves around them had gone still, caught between awe and fear.

He didn’t wait.

He lunged for the second.

This was no ordinary fight. This was dominance incarnate. Lyander fought like a creature forged for war, each movement precise and brutal, a symphony of violence. He dodged the swipe of a claw by mere inches and retaliated with a devastating slam of his shoulder, sending the second Beta sprawling into a tree.

Dust and pine needles exploded from the impact, but Lyander didn’t pause. His paws barely touched the ground before he was on the third, a blur of fangs and rage.

From the sidelines, Liora couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

It was like watching a storm tear through a forest. Beautiful. Terrifying.

Unstoppable.

This was Lyander unleashed—not the cold, brooding man she had bickered with for days. This was the Alpha he was born to be. And for a moment, for just one moment, everyone watching understood:

His previous pack hadn’t banished a threat.

They had exiled a king.

Lyander barely had time to turn before it hit him.

A blur of black and rust slammed into him with the weight of a boulder, cutting off his attack mid-leap and sending him skidding across the dirt. Clumps of soil flew into the air as his massive wolf form dug its claws in, carving deep furrows into the ground as he righted himself.

Kaius.

The rival Alpha loomed, towering and thick with muscle. His fur was dark as bloodied mahogany, eyes burning with cruel calculation.

Where Lyander was fluid and sharp, Kaius was brutal force, the embodiment of old, raw power. His lips peeled back in a snarl that revealed fangs long enough to crack bone.

"Don’t attack him one on one!" Kaius barked, his deep voice rumbling from his chest in a guttural growl only other wolves could fully understand. "Attack him all at once!"

The remaining Betas, panting and bloodied, hesitated only for a fraction of a second—then lunged.

Liora’s breath caught in her throat.

Four massive wolves surged toward Lyander like a wall of teeth and claws. Their paws thundered against the earth, their growls overlapping into a storm of sound.

The air pulsed with charged energy, tension drawn so tight it felt like it might snap at any second.

Lyander faced them head-on.

He didn’t back away, didn’t flinch. He charged.

He moved like lightning—graceful, deadly. He dipped low, feinted right, then sprang into the air just as two wolves slammed into the spot he had been.

Mid-air, his powerful jaws locked around the neck of one Beta and dragged him down in a spinning collision. They rolled, biting and clawing, before Lyander threw the wolf off with a savage twist of his head.

Another pounced—Lyander spun, his shoulder crashing into the Beta’s ribs. The crunch of impact echoed through the clearing, and the wolf yelped as it tumbled away, dazed.

But the numbers were beginning to show.

Kaius lunged again, this time from the side, and caught Lyander mid-turn. The impact was thunderous, the kind that made the earth shudder beneath them.

Lyander staggered, snarled, bit back—his jaws snapping inches from Kaius’s face—but then another Beta rammed into his flank.

And another.

Claws raked through his fur. Teeth grazed his shoulder. The wolves were everywhere—snarling, snapping, coordinated now under Kaius’s order.

They swirled around Lyander like a deadly dance, striking from different angles, never giving him room to breathe.

He was holding his own—barely.

Blood stained his fur. A gash opened on his thigh, seeping crimson down his leg. His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, his movements slowing by the second.

Liora’s fists clenched.

She could feel the pain echoing in her bones. Her heart thudded in her chest like a war drum. Every instinct inside her screamed to act, to help him, to do something—because Lyander was the strongest wolf she had ever seen, but even he couldn’t fight a war alone.

Another Beta lunged for his exposed side.

"No—!" she gasped, her hand twitching toward the ground.

But Lyander moved.

With one final burst of power, he twisted, sank his teeth into the charging wolf’s neck, and threw him. The body slammed into a tree with a sickening crack and dropped like a rag doll.

Lyander turned his blood-soaked muzzle to Kaius.

Despite his injuries, despite the fact that blood trickled from his side, his shoulder, his leg—Lyander still stood.

Tall. Defiant. Eyes glowing brighter than ever.

His growl rumbled low and dangerous.

A promise.

A warning.

Kaius growled back—and lunged.

Liora’s breath trembled in her chest as she watched Lyander stagger under the combined assault of the wolves. His flanks were streaked with blood, one eye nearly swollen shut, but he never yielded.

Every step he took, every lunge and twist, screamed of pure willpower. But it wasn’t enough—not against six battle-hardened wolves.

And she’d had enough of just watching.

They said this was fair. That this was right. Strength over reason. Might over fairness. But Liora didn’t give a damn about wolf customs of not interfering in their fight. She wasn’t a wolf anyway.

Six against one wasn’t a fight. It was an execution. And she wouldn’t let him fall here.

Not while she still had power in her bones.

Not while she still drew breath.

Subtly, she pressed her fingers into the soil at her side. Her palms lay flat, deceptively calm on the surface. To anyone watching, she was simply sitting, worried, helpless.

But beneath the earth, her magic stirred.

It was a whisper. Not a shout. She couldn’t afford to flare her power—too many shamans lingered nearby, their senses trained to sniff out anything unnatural.

Even now, she could feel the presence of two of them across the clearing, eyes half-closed, meditating in case the duel went awry. And she was nearly drained so this was all she could muster right now.

So she breathed deep and sent her will underground, gentle as falling dew.

The roots heard her.

The grass shifted, barely perceptible. It curled, stretched. Blades of green twisted like coils beneath Kaius’s paws.

Liora narrowed her focus to him alone—not the others, only the Alpha. If he stumbled, even once, Lyander could turn the tide.

Kaius lunged again, aiming for Lyander’s exposed ribs. At that moment, the soil beneath him turned slick, as though dew had gathered and made the ground soft. His back paw slipped—just slightly. It wasn’t enough to trip him entirely, but enough to make his leap imperfect.

Lyander saw it.

He pivoted, rolled aside, and used the momentum to slam his full weight into Kaius’s flank. The two crashed together, fur and muscle in a twisting, snarling blur.

Kaius tried to recover, but Liora sent a nudge through the earth, and a barely visible tendril of grass coiled around one hind leg. A tug—light but timely.

Kaius staggered.

Lyander didn’t hesitate. He seized the opening and slammed his jaws down on Kaius’s shoulder.

Crunch.

The sickening sound of bone popping from joint echoed across the field.

Kaius howled.

The other Betas, stunned, hesitated. One took a step forward, but Lyander’s eyes flashed like wildfire, and a snarl ripped from his chest—so deep and commanding that the ground seemed to quake with it.

Kaius tried to retreat, dragging his injured leg, but Liora was already three steps ahead. She hardened the ground beneath his feet, turning soft soil into unyielding stone.

His step faltered. His leg buckled.

And Lyander struck.

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