Chapter 643 – The Lycans would avenge their own

Chapter 643: Chapter 643 – The Lycans would avenge their own

Uri threw the first punch, his fist cutting through the air with brutal speed. Corvine dodged, the wind of the blow grazing his cheek. But the closeness made him catch a whiff of Uri’s scent, and his blood ran cold.

Liah was right. This man was not their kind. While werewolves carried the scent of earth, musk, or primal wildness around the pack, this man carried the dominant scent of smoke and spice, something foreign, ancient, and dangerous.

Uri threw a kick, and Corvine ducked backwards, avoiding contact by a hair’s breadth. Uri was getting frustrated, his movements growing more aggressive as he lunged forward. Corvine went on one knee and punched him in the groin, a cheap shot, but effective.

Except it did little to nothing to cause Uri pain.

His next kick landed with precision, sending Corvine flying through the air. His back hit the ground hard, the impact driving the breath from his lungs.

A groan escaped him as he caught the smirk curling at the corner of Jaron’s lips. Curt and Allan had knowing smiles on their faces, their eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation.

Corvine jumped to his feet before Uri could reach him, his body screaming in protest. Maddock had done a great job healing his pain so fast, but his wolf’s voice was urgent, strained. ’Don’t let him hit you again. I used a lot of energy just now.’

Corvine did not respond but took note of the warning. Uri began to hurl punches, his fists like hammers, but Corvine blocked each one with precision.

He found his rhythm, his movements flowing like water, and sent a punch to Uri’s face before the Lycan could realize it. Another punch followed, and another, each one landing with satisfying force.

But Uri was still standing, a smirk plastered across his face. "You werewolves are weak." The words were a snarl, dripping with contempt.

Even Jaron’s gaze dulled at the insult. He had long been aware that Lycans did not respect werewolves, but Corvine left him with no choice. "So you admit you aren’t our kind." Corvine’s voice rang out, sharp and accusatory.

The pack members began to murmur, confusion and suspicion rippling through the crowd.

Jaron panicked a little, his eyes darting between Corvine and Uri. But Corvine took advantage of the distraction and the brief exchange between Jaron and Uri.

He jumped and caught Uri by the neck, using his elbow to hit Uri on the head multiple times, each strike landing with brutal precision.

Uri tried to break free, his hands clawing at Corvine’s arms, but Corvine’s hold was like iron. It was as if this was his only chance to gain victory over his opponent, and he would not let it slip.

Uri finally tried to fall backwards, but before his back would hit the ground, Corvine let go of his hold. Uri gasped for breath, his chest heaving, but Corvine didn’t give Uri’s beast any chance to recover. He drove his fist multiples times over Uri’s face, each punch landing with savage force.

"You think werewolves are weak?" His voice was cold and furious, each word punctuated by another blow. Uri’s face began to bloody, his features becoming a mask of crimson. Then suddenly, he began to shift.

"You can’t do that!" Jaron yelled, fear gripping his throat. The fight was supposed to be in human form if not, everyone would know that Uri wasn’t their kind. But it was too late.

Uri’s claws elongated, gleaming with deadly sharpness, and he sunk them into Corvine’s chest. Blood sputtered out of Corvine’s mouth, the pain searing through him like fire.

But he allowed a partial shift, his own claws extending, and sunk them into Uri’s throat, ripping it out before falling unconscious.

Their shifts were never complete, and they shifted back to human form instantaneously. The dead Uri’s throat lay in Corvine’s fingers, his lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

Fear broke through the pack like a wave, the gathered crowd recoiling in horror.

Jaron was nervous, his face pale with panic. But Jasper quickly carried Corvine to the hospital, his movements urgent, before calling Liah to be by his side. The two Alphas paled, their faces draining of color, because the Lycans would avenge their own.

"What do we do now?" Allan asked King Jaron, his voice trembling. But an idea quickly formed in Jaron’s mind. He dispersed the pack members gathered around, his voice sharp with command. Then he made a call, his fingers trembling against the phone.

"I’m afraid your candidate is weak." His voice was forced, confident. "He shifted partially into beast form, so his rival panicked and tore out his throat." He paused, his gaze flickering to the body on the ground. "He would have won the fight if he hadn’t tried that trick."

There was only heavy breathing from the end of the line before a deep voice answered, cold and measured. "I have to see it for myself. If this was our fault, then there’ll be peace. But if it wasn’t, not even the crown will stop us from taking a hundred lives to make up for Uris’s. You already know the other option. A white wolf will do."

"I’ll bring him to you." Jaron said with a forced confidence, his heart pounding in his chest.

Before leaving, he mind linked Jasper. ’Send out the invitations. But make it known that Corvine would likely be the Alpha King. The ceremony will be in three days. If he doesn’t wake up by then, don’t blame me for giving the crown to any of his rivals.’

Jasper’s teeth gritted together before he responded through mind link, his voice flat. ’Noted.’

After the letters were sent, Jasper received a call from Voren and reported everything. Voren’s fury was palpable even through the phone. He was raged, though he was glad Corvine had killed the damn Lycan.

"If Corvine doesn’t recover before sunrise tomorrow, the Silver Moon Pack should prepare for war." The words were ice, absolute. He ended the call before Jasper could respond.

Seraphine was disturbed to hear Voren speak like that, her heart racing with worry. "What happened?" Her voice was urgent, her hands gripping his arm.

After Voren narrated everything, his voice tight with barely controlled anger, she spoke frantically. "I can heal him. Can you take me?"

Voren wanted to, his heart aching to say yes. But he shook his head, his jaw tight. "I gave them an ultimatum. Let me call Ravyn."

Ravyn answered on the first ring, his voice cautious. Voren’s voice was cold, accusatory. "You promised to be my eyes." He pause, heavy with meaning. "Or did you change sides?"