A Female Alpha’s Revenge

Third Person’s POV

His heart swelled with fervor. Lance, the commander who had reclaimed the southern border, had long been recalled to the capital.

His

presence here now could only mean one thing–he had come to rescue Stokes.

Lance had also spotted them. In the darkness, he could only see pairs of eyes.

One individual’s gaze was th excitement, nearly brimming with tears.

A spark of doubt flickered in Lance’s mind as he inched closer.

Eugene removed his black mask, revealing his true face.

Though he and Lance had never fought side by side, they were no strangers to each other.

Eugene had anticipated that Lance would recognize him and flashed a grin.

However, Lance stared at the weathered, dirt–smeared face before him, certain that he had never laid eyes on this man before.

Yet, seeing the man’s grin, so broad it seemed on the verge of tears, a sudden thought struck Lance–could this be……

He clenched his fist, raised it high above his head, and repeated the motion three times.

This was the signature gesture of the werewolf warriors from Alpha Bentley’s legion.

Before every battle, the warriors of Alpha Bentley’s legion would perform this gesture, followed by three thunderous chants of “Victory!”

The ten individuals, upon witnessing this, were moved to tears and mirrored the gesture, raising their fists high three times as well.

They nearly burst into chants of “Victory!” but restrained themselves at the last moment.

Lance felt a surge of warmth and his heart quickened. He silently formed the words with his lips, “Who are you?”

Eugene replied in kind, “Eugene.”

Lance was stunned.

They had come to rescue Eugenius, whom they had assumed to be Eugene. But if this man was Eugene, then who was the one imprisoned?

It was clear that one of their own was being held here, as Eugene and his group were evily on a rescue mission as well.

But there was no time for further inquiry. Klein had already signaled for an immediate attack.

Lance placed a hand on Eugene’s shoulder and whispered, “You stay here and create a diversion at the critical moment.”

Eugene nodded vigorously, his eyes glistening with emotion–having Lance here significantly boosted their chances of success.

Three dark figures darted forward like arrows released from a bow.

There was no such thing as a perfect timing.

The cottage was surrounded by lights. Although it was not as bright as day, it was still possible to discern any movement of objects or people.

Especially under the watchful eyes of hundreds, no matter how fast they were or how nimble their skills, they would eventually have to stand in front of the cottage and break down the door to enter the dungeon

Once inside the dungeon, it would be like catching a turtle in a jar.

Lance and Klein had already grasped this situation during their reconnaissance, hence their plan was: Klein and Caldwell would engage the guards, while Lance would enter the dungeon to rescue the prisoner.

After rescuing the person, they would quickly hand them over to Tommy outside and then return to assist Klein and Caldwell in making their escape.

Now, with Eugene and his group, the force to distract the guards was even stronger.

Lance’s figure shot toward the cottage door like a cannonball, his cedar pheromones flaring abruptly, the Alpha’s aura sweeping the surroundings with a biting intensity.

The iron door was as solid as a steel wall, impossible to budge with ordinary means. But his hands had already shifted mid–sprint.

His muscles bulged, silver–gray wolf hair emerging, knuckles cracking, five gleaming wolf claws piercing the soil, sharp enough to tear through steel.

He channeled all his brute strength into his claws. Each slash produced a tearing whistle through the air.

When his wolf claws clashed with the iron door, sparks flew like fireworks, the thick iron plate being torn into three deep grooves, the edges curling like tattered cloth.

After several powerful strikes, a twisted crevice appeared in the iron door. He raised his wolf–transformed hind leg and kicked with all his might.

With a deafening “clang,” the iron door was kicked wide open, the door slab crashing into the wall and sending a shower of dust into the air.

Glancing back, his vertical pupils narrowed into sharp slits in the dim light.

Klein guarded the entrance, his bak pheromones steady as a rock, wolf ears slightly trembling in his hair, eyes sharp as an eagle’s.

Caldwell was already entangled with the heavy–armed guards. Though not a top–notch grappler, he relied on the werewolf’s signature agility to weave through enemies.

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Wolf claws flickered at his fingertips, each movement light as a fox, using his nimble frame to restrain and

with his claws. n opportunities to slice through their defens

Lance wasn’t worried about Klein–he clearly had the situation under control.

But Caldwell’s side still tugged at his nerves. Werewolves‘ regenerative abilities were strong, but when surrounded, danger could strike at any moment.

In his last glance, he saw Eugene and his group charge out as well. Diverse pheromones swirled around them, yet there was an air of fierceness.

Lance’s tensed muscles finally relaxed somewhat. noveldrama

Strength lay in numbers. As long as they held the broken door to prevent enemies from rushing in, he was confident he could rescue the prisoner from the dungeon.

This military fortress’s dungeon was, in essence, a network of underground chambers and tunnels.

Lance had underestimated the complexity of these tunnels and chambers.

Upon entering the lower level, he found the tunnels crisscrossing and innumerable chambers–easily over a hundred- all interconnected.

The above–ground structures of the fortress were nowhere near this vast, clearly indicating the tunnels extended to other areas.

Even so, Lance followed the scent of blood and in the third tunnel, within one of the chambers, he found his target.

The smell of blood was one clue. More important, this door was different from the others. While they were just wooden doors, this one was a strong iron door.