THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEW
Chapter 119 Unnatural Drakness
The rogue lunged, snarling, but Seraphina met him head–on, barefoot, blood–streaked, half–shifted, and wild. Her claws tore through his chest like paper, bones crunching under her rage. She didn’t stop to breathe. Another came, and she spun, her heel cracking against his jaw before she lunged, her teeth sinking into his throat.
Behind her, the she–wolves followed no longer trembling victims, they were savage fury given form. They pounced without hesitation, mauling the rogues with a pure fury. Their snarls echoed off the walls, not with fear, but vengeance.
The rogues faltered.
This wasn’t what they were used to. She–wolves weren’t supposed to fight back. They were supposed to whimper, beg, cry, and crawl.
But now? They were the ones crawling.
As the rogues retreated in a panic, that fear only fed the she–wolves. The taste of it thickened the air. The rush of power crackled in their limbs like lightning. They weren’t prey anymore.
Seraphina led them, ripping into rogue after r
her body slick with blood that wasn’t hers. Her wolf
howled inside her, drunk on battle. For every she–wolf that wavered, she showed them what strength looked like. For every doubt, she gave them claws.
They charged through the underground, fighting as one.
Above, on the North side of the brothel, another storm was brewing.
Asher walked through smoke and screams like a man awoken from a dream. His lips curled around a cigarette, the ember glowing orange in the dim light. She–wolves ran past him, stumbling from their rooms, barefoot and dazed, but free. Some turned to look at him, this strange man in the chaos, unbothered and smiling.
Asher relived the moment he’d seen the real Seraphina in that room and he could not stop smiling since then. “A beautiful liar,” he muttered with a low chuckle, “Should’ve known.”
The floor beneath him was soaked in alcohol thanks to him as he took one last drag and tossed it as soon as he took a turn off the hallway.
The North hall went up in flames behind him with a roar that sounded almost like laughter.
To the West, Finn was a storm given skin. His hands were bloodied from breaking open cages, his throat raw from yelling for one name, Seth. Still he could not find that desired face anywhere. Not in the holding cells. Not behind the bars where the broken she–wolves were kept.
All the she–wolves ran for their lives but Finn kept standing fuming in rage.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS HE!” he bellowed, slamming his fist into the wall hard enough to fracture stone, “Fuck this place.”
He yanked the pin from the gas cylinder and kicked it into the heart of the west wing. Fire exploded seconds later, a deafening blast that shattered steel and stone alike. The wall collapsed inward, and the brothel groaned as if it felt pain.
The structure trembled. Dust rained from the ceilings. The foundation cracked.
On the East end, Ronan’s black wolf stood among the dead.
Smoke curled from the bodies of the burning rogues he’d slaughtered. Fire licked at the walls, painting the
Chapter 119 Unnatural Draknass
scene in red and gold. His sides heaved, muscles tense, his fur streaked with ash and blood, some his, most not.
He shifted, sweat and blood dripping down his bare chest. His violet eyes glearned through the smoke.
“Where’s that motherfucking brothel owner?” he growled, voice low and dangerous, “And that suspicious bastard with him disappeared too?”
He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“They better hurry the fuck up,” he muttered, “I’ve got my woman to be with.”
Below, Seraphina reached the ground floor.
The rogue already facing the monstrous Alphas from the Lupine Academy had barely had time to react before she was on them, feral, blinding, merciless. She tore through them like paper, clearing the path for the wave of she–wolves fighting behind her. There were no longer dozens.
There were hundreds. Every single one of them fought like they had nothing left to lose.
The brothel’s heart had become a war zone. Blood on the floor. Fire in the walls. Screams in the air.
Into the chaos walked Finn. Sanity had long since abandoned him.
His clothes were scorched, hanging in tatters. Eyes blank, devoid of reason. A gas tank swung from his hand like a toy, heavy with destruction.
He moved with purpose, ready to hurl it straight into the horde of rogues until a scent hit him.
Wild. Sweet. Electric.
He froze abruptly. His head turned, nostrils flaring. Through the smoke and fire, a flash of red appeared.
A thin, agile figure.
Long, sleek legs cut through rogues like blades. Her breasts bounced subtly behind the daring cut of her bodice, but it wasn’t the allure of her body that stunned him–it was the tiny mole just beneath her neck.
That mole.
His breath caught.
“Seth…”
His eyes traced upward, meeting hers amber and burning behind the sheer veil.
A second passed. Then she flew past him like lightning.
Finn stood frozen, the gas tank still in hand, heat roaring around him.
A whisper left his lips, dry and stunned,
“He really is…a woman.”
Sera unaware of her surrounding and destroying the every rogue on her way did not stop until a thick, unnatural darkness swept towards her like a wave
Every wolf froze. Every fight halted mid–blow.
Even Seraphina, mid–snarl, felt it slide over her skin like ice. Phina held her breath as the darkness touched her in a silent warning, and her instinct screamed of death.
Chapter 119 Umatural Drakness
Seraphina held her breath, slowly lifted her gaze up towards the South where that aura came from her, “Who is there?” she asked herself.
On the top floor of the brothel, where the smoke had yet to reach and silence dared to stretch, Ryker walked slowly, hands tucked casually into his pants pockets. His aura spread around him like fire.
The very floor beneath his feet felt colder with every step he took toward the man trembling at the far end of the corridor at the sight of him.
Juan, the brothel owner.
The moment he laid eyes on Ryker’s approaching figure, his legs buckled. His sweat–drenched shirt clung to his skin, and his eyes, wide like a terrified owl, darted about as if searching for an escape.
Of course, there was none.
“You are–you are…” Juan stammered, voice cracking like dry wood. Something deep in his primal instincts finally recognized the beast behind the smile Ryker had worn beneath his disguise earlier, “I–I always suspected–but how can you be here?”
He couldn’t finish. His words shriveled beneath the pressure of that suffocating aura.
“Still not kneeling?”
Juan collapsed.
He didn’t even try to resist. His knees hit the floor, his face already contorted in panic. “P–please–please spare me, I didn’t know–I didn’t know! If I had known it was you…I would not have dared to do anything. Have mercy-!”
Ryker squatted down in front of him, choking the words in his throat. He reached out and lazily touched the golden chain around Juan’s neck with no aggression, no rush. Just a slow, chilling tap with two fingers.
“You touched my possession,” Ryker murmured, tilting his head slightly. His voice remained calm, almost gentle, “Now you ask me to spare your life. Aren’t you…just a little evil and putting me at a disadvantage?” Juan whimpered, choking on his breath. His heart pounded so fast it felt like it might tear out of his chest. “I–I have something!” he blurted, desperately clutching at any hope. “Information! About the doll–boy you came here with,” his fingers clawed at the air as if offering a prize, “A secret about the dollboy…no one else knows!”
Ryker paused, his gaze unreadable.
Then he stood, brushing invisible dust from his pants.
“Is that so?” he asked softly.
Juan nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes! You’ll want to know this, I swear it’ll change everything! That dollboy is actually a…”
Before the next word could leave his mouth-
Shhick.
The whisper of steel through flesh was quiet, almost elegant.
Juan’s eyes widened. His head turned, too far, before it tumbled from his shoulders entirely. A sharp, clean cut.
Blood sprayed in a brief arc as his body dropped forward. His severed head flew from the top floor like it had been guided by fate itself.
It landed with a wet, heavy thud on the ground floor, directly at Seraphina’s feet.
She gasped, jerking backward in surprise. Blood stained her bare toes, and the sight of the lifeless eyes staring back at her made her heart thunder.
Slowly, instinctively, she looked up.
Through the smoke, fire, and chaos, she saw him.
Ryker.
Standing at the railing of the top floor like a god above war, eyes locked on hers.
A small smile curled his lips as he whispered, “Already know.”
