Chapter 129

Silas’s attack hit Lyle with a force that sent him sprawling, but his defiance, his willingness to protect Dante, gave Dante the split second he needed to regain his footing, to turn and face Silas head-on.

Dante’s roar was filled with fury, his strikes a blur as he engaged Silas, his movements a combination of strength and precision. The two of them clashed in a brutal fight, their every strike a testament to the hatred and history between them. But now, Dante had something Silas could never understand—a pack, a family, wolves who would risk everything to protect each other.

As Dante fought, I saw Silas falter, his confidence shaken by the loyalty, the courage he faced. In that moment, I knew that we had already won, that Silas’s attempt to divide us had only made us stronger.

Dante’s final strike sent Silas staggering back, his form crumpling as he fell to the ground, his defiance replaced by disbelief, by the realization that he had been defeated not by strength alone, but by the unity he had sought to destroy.

Around us, Silas’s forces began to retreat, their spirits broken, their will shattered. I felt a wave of relief, of triumph, as I looked around at the wolves who had stood beside me, who had fought with everything they had.

But as I turned, my heart dropped. Lyle lay still on the ground, his breaths shallow, his eyes half-closed. I rushed to his side, Dante close behind me, his expression stricken.

“Lyle,” I whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.