The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna

Chapter 332: Chapter 332 Fighting The Ogres 4

”Grrr...” The warriors released low growls as they tugged and pulled at the ogre’s arms and legs, while others bit and clawed at the same spot, tearing into its tendons. Fortunately, Zion held on long enough for their efforts to pay off.

Then, as Zion was sent flying through the air, one of the warriors let out a low howl, a signal to the others. Because they were from the same pack, they could communicate through the mindlink, and even though Zion himself couldn’t use it with them, his cues were easy to read. They caught his signals, understood his intent, and moved as one.

”Everyone, fall back!!! Alpha Zion is down and feeling weak! Scatter and cover for him, or he’ll be crushed to death!” the lookout warrior barked, his words carried with snarls and growls through the mindlink.

The moment the command reached them, the warriors released their grip and scattered in unison. The second ogre let out a guttural roar of pain, thrashing wildly as it swung its massive arms.

But then it stopped as it realized that its grip on the club failed, the weapon slipping uselessly from its hand as its arm hung limply at its side.

The ogre soon realized its legs could no longer bear its massive weight. The warriors had torn into its arms and legs with relentless bites, and unlike werewolves, ogres had no healing ability to recover from such wounds.

With a pained roar, the creature collapsed to its knees. It kept growling, but no matter how hard it struggled, its limbs refused to move. Panic and frustration twisted its face as it bellowed for its brothers.

Only then did the first and third ogres glance back, and what they saw made them halt in shock. Their brother was on its knees, bloodied and covered in wounds, barely able to defend itself.

Without hesitation, they charged back toward the third ogre, the earth trembling beneath their pounding steps.

Meanwhile, the warriors regrouped, forming a protective circle around Zion. Even with Shura’s remarkable healing ability, Zion had taken severe internal damage. Each breath came strained and heavy, his strength faltering as they shielded him.

’Shit... I think my ribs are broken, and one’s poking into my lungs,’ Zion thought grimly as he assessed his injuries. Each breath burned in his chest, the air going in far easier than it came out. His vision swayed, his legs trembled, and every movement felt like agony.

But as an Alpha, he refused to let weakness show. If he collapsed here, it would shatter his warriors’ morale. So, despite feeling like hell itself was crushing down on him, Zion forced himself to stand tall, shoulders squared, his presence still majestic and unyielding before the warriors.

This should have been Addison’s chance to launch a sneak attack, but then her eyes fell on Zion. Something about him wasn’t right.

He stood tall, every inch the majestic Alpha, yet she could see the slight sway in his stance, the way he shook his head as if trying to drive away the dizziness clouding him. Through their mate bond, she sensed it too that Zion wasn’t well. The feeling was faint, hard to pinpoint, but it was enough to tell her he was struggling.

If she struck now, while the first and third ogres were already enraged by their brother’s bloodied state, they would surely turn their fury on Zion. And in his condition... instead of gaining an advantage, she might be handing him over to his death.

The thought of Zion being killed froze Addison in place.

Her hand stiffened around the rope and dagger. Zion was supposed to be her shield, the tank that allowed her to keep striking and retreating in her hit-and-run strategy. But if he were this injured, then her plan would crumble, and worse, Zion might end up as their casualty. That was something she couldn’t accept.

So instead of stepping out, she stayed hidden behind the tree, masking her presence so the ogres wouldn’t notice how close she was to them. Her eyes fixed on Zion, studying every shift in his expression.

She longed to tell him to take care of himself first. He was standing there stubbornly, projecting strength to keep the others’ morale from crumbling, but she knew the truth: if he ignored his condition, his injuries might never heal properly.

Shura could mend torn flesh and ease his injuries, but even Shura couldn’t realign broken bones.

Zion, who had been tracking Addison’s movements from the corner of his eye, noticed she wasn’t making any moves. Instead, she kept stealing glances at him. Through their mate bond, he felt her worry.

It was faint, but real, and it warmed his heart. He liked that she cared, but he also knew they couldn’t afford to drag this out any longer.

So, even knowing it would expose his condition to everyone, Zion made his choice. He shifted back into his human form because only then could he set his broken bones and give Shura a chance to heal him properly.

The moment his body shifted, his strength gave way. He crashed down onto one knee with a heavy thud, the scrape of stone biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. With trembling hands, he pressed against his ribs. Then, without hesitation or flinching, he forced them back into place.

Agonizing pain tore through him, like a blade being wrenched from his organs, and blood spilled from his lips in a violent cough.

After forcing his ribs back into place, Zion’s body convulsed as waves of pain shot through him. Fortunately, his tolerance for pain far surpassed most, honed by the brutal war he had endured three years ago. It was the only reason he didn’t black out.

”Ugh...” he groaned, teeth clenched against the torment he was feeling. But his ribs weren’t the only ones damaged. His right arm hung at an unnatural angle, twisted and misshapen from the impact.

He knew he had to set it back into place as well, and the thought alone promised another surge of unbearable pain.

”Ugh!” Zion’s muffled groans rumbled through the air, carrying the raw edge of pain. The warriors didn’t even need to look; they could hear the sharp pops of joints and the grinding snap of bones being forced back into place.

Each sound made their stomachs twist; they knew too well how agonizing it was.

They were werewolves, hardened and accustomed to pain, yet even they had their limits. With as many broken bones as Zion had suffered from that brutal impact, any of them would have already passed out, let alone found the strength to reset their own body.

If it had been them who took that blow, death on impact would’ve been almost certain.

But Zion was different. He was an Alpha. His body was stronger, tougher, resilient beyond theirs. A blessing, yes, but in moments like this, watching him bleed and suffer, it felt less like a blessing and more like a cruel burden.

”Ugh...” Zion grunted heavily as he forced the last bone back into place. His chest heaved, rising and falling violently, but he was far from fine.

Cold sweat drenched him, and the veins along his jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth so tightly that his face had gone numb. Every muscle trembled with the effort of enduring the pain.