The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna

Chapter 381: Chapter 381 Rescue Levi

The ground trembled beneath his paws, scattering dirt and leaves in his path.

Because of his sheer speed, the warriors behind him quickly lost sight of Alpha Maxwell. They could only rely on their sharp sense of smell to follow the faint trace he left behind, sprinting with everything they had, but even then, it wasn’t enough to keep up with Maxwell’s desperate, furious pace.

”Grrr...” Maxwell’s wolf let out a low, anxious snarl as he ran, tension rippling through his muscles. A growing sense of worry gnawed at him. How was he supposed to explain this to Addison?

It wasn’t his fault — not directly — but as an Alpha, he carried the burden of responsibility for those under his protection. Levi might not be his Beta, but he was Addison’s other fated mate, and Maxwell, being the stronger of the two, couldn’t help but feel that it was his duty to protect him.

The thought pressed heavily on his chest, tightening like a vice. No matter how he tried to reason with himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was still his fault.

”Speed up! Don’t fall too far behind, Alpha Maxwell will need our support once he reaches the intruders!” one of the warriors barked through the mindlink, his tone sharp and urgent. The others responded with low growls and snarls of agreement as they raced through the forest in their wolf forms.

With no way to speak directly to Maxwell while transformed, all they could do was push their pace and stay close, determined to be there when Alpha Maxwell needed them.

Right now, Maxwell couldn’t think of anything else, as his sole purpose was to rescue Levi. Everything else could wait.

While Maxwell was sprinting through the forest, racing toward Levi’s location, things on Levi’s side had already turned dangerous. The warriors guarding him had been cornered once again by Greg’s people; it was the third time now. Each time, Greg’s men would let them slip away, only to hunt them down again in a cruel game of cat and mouse chase.

Every time Levi’s group managed to create distance, Greg’s werewolves would close in, killing one or two before letting the survivors flee again. Now, only three warriors remained standing around Levi, the one carrying him and two others shielding their flanks.

All were badly wounded, deep gashes tearing across their bodies. Greg’s people made sure the wounds were just shy of fatal, forcing them to heal just enough to run, but never enough to recover. The cycle repeated over and over, a relentless torment that left them exhausted and barely holding on.

”Ugh... Captain... I’m almost at my limit,” the warrior in front of the man carrying Levi croaked, voice thin with exhaustion. ”My wolf has healed me five times already. I’ve burned through so much energy. I can barely lift my legs. I’ll make the sacrifice. You and the others run on my signal.”

He forced out a ragged breath, eyes burning with stubborn resolve. They all knew the truth: if they tried to keep running as they were, everyone would die. What they needed now was time, time to stall the enemy long enough for reinforcements to arrive.

They would have to turn Greg’s arrogance against him, gamble that while the attackers toyed with them in their cruel cat-and-mouse game, their comrades would be closing in to provide support. If luck and fate held, the remaining survivors might yet make it out alive.

That was what they’d been counting on all this time, buying time, stalling, and gambling on survival. But they had clearly underestimated the enemy’s shamelessness. Greg and his people knew nothing of a wolf’s pride or dignity; they relied on deceit, ambushes, and every dirty trick they could think of to win.

Just like before, when they had suddenly pounced on Levi, leaving him gravely injured. Even now, Greg’s pack still reeked of masking spray, making it nearly impossible to track their exact position through scent.

They used it to their full advantage, slipping unseen through the forest, setting up traps and ambushes, and striking without warning. One by one, Levi’s warriors were cut down, snatched away before they could react.

And though Levi’s remaining protectors tried to keep running, tried to buy time, they were running out of it fast. Levi’s blood was spilling freely, painting a trail through the forest, one they couldn’t stop or hide, no matter how hard they tried.

They could only depend on Levi’s sheer willpower to survive. His connection with his wolf was faint, suppressed by the Wolfsbane coursing through his veins, but even so, his wolf was fighting desperately to keep him alive.

The silver residue embedded in his wounds made healing nearly impossible, yet his wolf refused to give up. Instead, it focused on replenishing Levi’s blood, doing everything it could to keep his body from shutting down, a far more complex and taxing task than mending flesh alone.

Fortunately, before this ambush, they had already set numerous traps throughout the forest. Now, those traps were their only hope of thinning out Greg’s forces. Many of Greg’s men had already fallen victim to them, some plunging into pits lined with spikes coated in silver residue and Wolfsbane.

Those unfortunate enough to fall in didn’t just die from the holes covering all over their bodies; the Wolfsbane and Silver seeped through their bodies, draining their strength and leaving them to bleed out slowly, too weak to climb free.

At first, when Zion ordered Beta Levi to prepare such traps, the warriors from the Golden Hue Pack felt uneasy. They weren’t accustomed to such ruthless tactics, after all, they’d lived in relative peace and hadn’t fought against savage rogues for years.

To them, Zion’s methods seemed heartless, and the task of gathering materials and setting those traps left a bitter taste in their mouths. Their Alpha was nothing like Zion, who had clawed his way through countless battles against vampires.

They’d never truly understood what it meant to fight enemies who had no pride, no honor, and were creatures far more wicked than werewolves could ever be.

But now, they could only thank Zion for his foresight. It was because of his advice that they’d managed to survive this long. After all, they weren’t just outnumbered by Greg’s men; they were also burdened with protecting a severely injured Levi, which placed them at a huge disadvantage.

Fortunately, the forest was littered with traps they’d prepared in advance: deep pits, trigger snares, and hidden mechanisms that could maim or kill. All they had to do now was lure Greg’s people into them while they ran.

However, Greg wasn’t just any opponent. He had once fought beside Zion on the same battlefield and had served him as his Beta for years. He understood how Zion thought, and how his traps were built.

That knowledge kept him unscathed even as his men fell one after another. Yet, even knowing the dangers ahead, Greg made no effort to warn them. He didn’t care whether his subordinates lived or died; their only purpose was to prolong his entertainment.

To him, this deadly chase was nothing but a game, and every trap they triggered was another move in his cruel amusement.