The Villains Must Win
Chapter 191: Lyander Wolfhart 41

Chapter 191: Lyander Wolfhart 41

The war had never been clean. Not in strategy. Not in purpose. And certainly not in loyalty.

Henry’s call to arms had been simple: Stand for your land. Fight for your freedom. And for a time, it had worked.

Nearly half the clans and territories across the scattered regions rose to support him. Wolves, shifters, and old blood tribes that remembered the cost of submission answered his banner, rallying to protect their right to choose, to live without a leash.

Some, fearing annihilation, chose a quieter path. They uprooted their lives and vanished into the deep woods, taking their families far from the heart of conflict.

"Let them tear each other apart," they said. "Let gods and wolves fight their war. We will not be pawns."

And the rest—those who bent the knee to Rhett—did so willingly.

To them, order was better than chaos. Power was better than freedom. Rhett’s vision was cruel, but it was clear. He offered security through submission. A world without rebellion. A world where everyone where united in a single rule.

And now, with battle looming, the fractured lands sat poised on the edge of a blade.

The war was coming.

But it wasn’t just swords and teeth that tilted the balance—it was Talia Fenwyn.

She had once been a frightened girl, half-drowning in a destiny she didn’t understand. But that had changed the night she saw the moon burn gold in her dreams and woke up with a heartbeat that wasn’t her own.

Her wolf had awakened—wild, radiant, ancient. Not like the others.

Older.

Something had stirred in her blood that wasn’t just Luna or shifter—it was divine.

And as if that wasn’t enough, two days before the first assault, she laid her hands over a broken soldier’s chest—his lungs crushed, his heart failing—and light bloomed beneath her palms like fire in moonlight.

He lived.

No one could explain it. No one dared.

But by the end of the day, the whispers had spread:

She’s not just a wolf.

She’s the Moon Goddess’s chosen.

At first, they celebrated. Wolves who had once doubted her now bowed with reverence. Soldiers called her "blessed," and wounded came to her in droves. Her touch was balm, her presence hope.

Talia had once been nameless among wolves—just another unshifted girl from a forgotten bloodline, tossed aside by the very Alpha who was supposed to treasure her. Rhett had rejected her. Denied the bond. Discarded her like she was nothing.

But the Moon Goddess does not forget her chosen.

Talia’s awakening had shaken the realm. A surge of divine power flowed through her veins—healing wounds, calming beasts, even silencing death itself.

Where she walked, miracles bloomed like fire through snow. Her eyes shimmered like twin moons, her touch soothed pain like lullabies. It didn’t matter that she had no pack. The wolves followed her.

They whispered her name like a prayer. Or a warning.

And then Rhett took her back.

Not with tenderness. Not with apology. But with an iron crown and cold command.

"You are mine."

"You always were."

He had come to her altar in the dead of night, not as a lover, but as a conqueror.

And she—goddess-touched and finally awake—had looked him in the eyes and said nothing. The bond was strong than her anger and disappointment at Rhett before. All of that evaporated the moment he took her back.

And when the sun rose, she stood beside him.

No chains. No resistance.

Talia became Luna.

And the world split in two.

She stood beside Rhett.

Not Henry.

Not the man who led the coalition for freedom.

But Rhett, the Alpha King. The man who had discarded her before.

Some called it fate. Others called it madness.

The Moon Goddess had never wanted war for her creations.

So then why?

Why would she grant this woman—Talia—such divine power?

Why mark her as chosen . . . only for her to stand beside Rhett, a man leading a war she never condoned?

Was this truly the will of the Moon Goddess?

Or had her silence been misinterpreted?

The great coalition formed under banners of rebellion, under cries of autonomy and freedom, began to fracture. Packs who had sworn allegiance to Henry’s vision now faltered, staring at the glowing woman beside the Alpha King.

"If she is the Moon’s chosen," they reasoned, "how can we fight her?"

So they switched sides.

In waves and whispers, they abandoned Henry and bent the knee to Rhett.

Not because they believed in his rule—but because they believed in hers.

She had healed their children. She had ended their droughts. She had pulled the fever from old warriors’ bones and kissed the dying back to life. They saw a goddess in flesh.

But not everyone did.

Not Henry. Not the packs who had given everything to fight the tyranny Rhett stood for. And not the wolves who watched her glowing figure from the shadows of the battlefield and whispered, "She should have been ours."

They were the ones who moved in the dark.

Many were neutral and Henry-aligned packs switched sides not because of Rhett, but because they saw Talia as the true divine figure, believing the Moon had made her Luna for a reason.

These defecting packs, seeking favor with Rhett and his new Luna, plotted to assassinate Henry and deliver his head as tribute.

=== 🖤 ===

Darkness moved like a promise that night.

The moon hung high—Talia’s moon, they called it now. Wolves once loyal to Henry now whispered her name in reverence, claiming she was chosen, destined, divine.

And because of that, Henry had become expendable.

Not hated. Not feared. Just . . . inconvenient.

A relic of a rebellion now abandoned.

They came for him in silence.

Blades coated in ash to mask their scent.

Armor lined with soft leather to muffle their movements.

And in their eyes? Not rage. Not loyalty to Rhett.

Just ambition.

Kill Henry. Deliver his head to the Alpha King. And offer it at the feet of the Moon Goddess reborn. Talia.

They didn’t do it for her.

They did it because of her.

She had never asked them to.

But gods never need to ask.

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