The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna

Chapter 440: Chapter 440 Unsettling

Both of them were Alphas with temper, and this revelation was like a jagged stick prodding at their fragile patience and pride. Feeling powerless only made the frustration burn hotter.

”I couldn’t help it, I can’t think straight right now! Do we even have any advantage left?!” Maxwell snapped as he began pacing back and forth. His chest heaved violently, his voice barely contained, and his nostrils flared as if steam might burst from them at any moment.

”Let’s not let our tempers get the better of us,” Zion said, taking a few deep breaths. ”Let’s rein in our wolves for now.”

Even as he spoke, he knew the truth; he didn’t have a solution either. Every plan he could think of had flaws, each one risking exposure and alerting their enemies to their movements too soon.

”...Sorry for losing my temper,” Maxwell muttered as he finally forced himself to calm down.

”It’s alright,” Zion said. ”Let’s do another perimeter check. We might’ve missed something the first time, so let’s be more thorough this round.”

He nodded to Maxwell, then turned and sprinted toward the forest. Once the trees swallowed his figure, Zion removed the towel wrapped around his waist, stored it in his magic bag, and shifted into his wolf form. In the next heartbeat, he was already moving, silent and swift, as he darted through the forest’s shadows.

Sensing Zion’s presence vanish, Maxwell turned in the opposite direction and followed suit. He concealed his aura and shifted into his own wolf form. He understood what Zion was trying to do, and for now, it was their best option. Arguing over what they might have missed wouldn’t help anyone.

This was all they could do for now: search, gather information, and decide their next move later.

After thirty minutes of separate patrols, covering a roughly one-hundred-and-fifty-meter radius around the clearing, Maxwell and Zion finally regrouped. Neither had detected anything unusual, no suspicious birds lingering overhead, no unnatural hum of insects watching from the shadows.

They had been meticulous. Both knew the witches might be capable of controlling animals and insects, using them as spies if not people. They also examined the ground for broken branches, stray footprints, or crushed leaves.

They also paid close attention to unfamiliar herbal scents; masking sprays were often made from common grasses and herbs, designed to blend the user’s scent and presence into the environment.

Their ears stayed sharply alert, catching every faint rustle. If someone was tailing them, that person would need to maintain distance while keeping pace, and movement would be inevitable. With little wind stirring the forest, any unnatural sound would stand out, making distant disturbances their most reliable warning.

When they moved closer to whisper among themselves, neither needed to speak. Even before they met, both wore dark expressions and gave subtle shakes of their heads. They should have felt relieved that nothing unusual had been detected, but instead, unease settled deep in their chests.

It could mean they weren’t being monitored at all. Or worse, that whoever was watching them was far more skilled than expected. There was also the possibility that their enemies were using methods of surveillance they didn’t even understand.

But how could they be certain they were being watched in the first place?

The answer lay in their enemy’s behavior. The sheer thoroughness of the planning, the precision of its execution, and even the decision to send Greg solely to unsettle them, all of it pointed to an opponent who was cunning, meticulous, and utterly intolerant of failure.

Someone like that wouldn’t rely on a single plan. They would layer safeguards upon safeguards, contingency after contingency, ensuring that no matter what happened, the outcome would bend in their favor.

And that certainty was what unsettled them the most.

Although Zion and Maxwell now understood that they had become pawns in someone else’s game, that knowledge only deepened their sense of helplessness. They were pieces on a chessboard, and the chess master held absolute control. One wrong move, one action that didn’t align with the master’s design, and the entire board could shift beneath them.

Worse still, everything they currently knew could become meaningless if their enemy decided to escalate or take a drastic turn. And that possibility was far from unlikely. Zion could already tell that whoever Greg served was truly scary, controlling, aggressive, and utterly unhinged. Otherwise, how could someone as violently destructive as Greg be kept on such a tight leash?

There was only one answer.

The one Greg served was even more extreme than he was. Greg hadn’t followed out of loyalty; he had submitted out of fear, forced into obedience like a chained dog, terrified of the hand that held his leash.

The more Zion thought about it, the more certain he became that his reasoning was correct. That was why both he and Maxwell looked as though they had swallowed something bitter. Even without seeing or sensing anything unusual, they couldn’t move freely, and time was slipping through their fingers. In less than half an hour, the other packs would arrive.

They were running out of time, and the thought made Zion’s stomach twist with a cold dread.

A glance at Maxwell’s equally grim expression told him he wasn’t alone in that conclusion. Fortunately, Alpha Hue and his Luna were occupied, as they helped calm the still-grieving pack members, while also checking on the animals and the rest of the convoy. That gave Zion and Maxwell a narrow window to act without drawing attention.

They reined in their Alpha auras and suppressed their presence, moving as quietly as shadows. It wasn’t ideal, but for now, it was the best they could do.

”Did you really not see or sense anything?” Zion asked again, as if he couldn’t accept the result. His brows drew together instinctively as he sank deeper into thought.

Maxwell pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. As Alpha werewolves, their senses far surpassed those of ordinary wolves; they have sharper hearing, keener smell, and heightened instincts. Yet even with that advantage, neither of them had picked up anything unusual.

And still, the feeling lingered.

It was sticky and nauseating, like being watched from all sides, like a caged beast under an unseen gaze; every movement felt like being observed. At the same time, it felt disturbingly insubstantial, as though it might be nothing more than their imaginations running wild under the strain of mounting tension and stress.

That uncertainty made it all the more unsettling.

”This is way more exhausting and frustrating than taking on a hundred rogues head-on...” Maxwell murmured.

”Yeah... I feel the same,” Zion replied, his face darkening like the bottom of a pot.

”So... do we just have to hope that Addie noticed something unusual?” Maxwell continued. ”She’s smart and observant, and there’s a chance she might have remembered details from the past and pieced everything together—”

Before he could finish, Zion interjected.

”What if she hasn’t?” Zion asked. He wasn’t doubting Addison’s abilities or agreeing with Maxwell’s praise; he knew she was capable, but he was trying to be realistic. Right now, she was likely busy directing others and organizing everything, while countless other things might be happening that they had no way of knowing. Taking all those unforeseen factors into account, the chances that Addison had noticed something could be smaller than they could hoped for.