Chapter 157 Chapter 157

Chapter 157 Chapter 157
Author's pov

“Retreat! Fall back!” Alpha Stefan bellowed from his horse, his voice cutting through the clamor of battle. Kavian had successfully distracted his brothers, and now there was a narrow opening—enough for his men to pull back toward the gates, even if it was only a temporary reprieve.

His beta, Marcel, still locked in combat, heard the command and finished off his opponent with swift precision before shouting the order louder, ensuring the message carried over the chaos.

“Everyone! Fall back! Now!”

The other two alphas, Damian and Tristan, echoed the call, their warriors maneuvering carefully, striking and defending as they gradually pulled back toward the gates. Progress was slow but steady—Kavian’s unyielding stand kept his brothers fully occupied.

“He stands no chance against the three of them,” Tristan said grimly, watching Kavian struggle under the relentless assault. His body moved with skill, but the numbers were impossible. Each strike from Arman, Shirin, and Roshan was precise and punishing.

“We should help him,” Tristan urged, his eyes flicking to Kavian as he dodged yet another brutal blow. But he could see it: Kavian’s fight was hopeless.

“You won’t be of any help. None of us will,” Alpha Damian said, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. “But if you want to play the hero and throw yourself into the fire, I won’t stop you.”

“Damian’s right. We can’t help him,” Alpha Stefan agreed, his voice steady, tinged with sorrow. “Kavian knew the risks. He made this choice. Now, we save as many lives as we can.”

He turned to Tristan. “You promised him you’d keep Rose safe. That’s worth more to him than dying in this fight. Take her, get her far from here.” Tristan nodded, swallowing hard, understanding the weight of the responsibility.

He turned and found Rose frozen, her eyes locked on the carnage ahead. They landed on Kavian, still fighting desperately, his brothers’ attacks relentless. The fear and pain etched across her face cut Tristan to the core. When he saw her start to move forward, rushing toward the fight, he ran and caught her, holding her back. She struggled, panic flashing in her eyes, but Tristan’s grip was firm, steadying her as he finally convinced her they had to flee.

He helped her onto his horse, mounting after her, their horses surging forward. But Alpha King Armon’s commanding voice rang out, and his men surged after them, cutting through the retreating crowd with murderous intent.

Alpha Stefan’s gaze followed them. Seeing the enemy closing on his daughter, he turned to Damian. “Lead our people safely out of the city. Marcel and I will stay behind with our warriors and keep as many of them from reaching Rose as we can.”

The war raged on, chaos all around, but in that moment, every thought of battle and fear was anchored to Rose’s safety...

“Have you had enough, brother? Are you back to your senses now, or do you still need more brain-resetting blows?” Arman sneered, his sword angled toward Kavian’s face—so close the blood dripping from its edge almost brushed his cheek.

Kavian was on his knees, swaying slightly, his breaths uneven. Blood slicked his jaw, his hair, his torn shirt. His strength looked like it was leaking out of him with every drop.

“I think he’s back to his senses,” Roshan said, wiping his blade on his sleeve.

“Agreed,” Shirin muttered, his eyes cold.

“Are they correct?” Arman asked, leaning down slightly. “Are you back to your senses? Are you ready to apologize to Father?”

Kavian lifted his head slowly—painfully slow—his eyes dull at first… then clearing with a spark of defiance that should not have been possible. A faint scoff left his swollen lips.

“I am ashamed to be part of this family,” he rasped. “You all don’t deserve to be Rose’s mates.”

A flick of rage flashed across all three faces—sharp, deadly.

In one synchronized motion, the three swords came down.
Three brutal arcs.
Three blades biting into Kavian’s body.

His body jerked once—then crumpled to the dirt, motionless.

“No! Kavian!” Rose’s scream tore through the wind, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her whole body shook on the back of the horse as Tristan drove them forward, hooves pounding against the earth. Behind them, men shouted, curses flying through the air as they gave chase.

Her father, Alpha Stefan, his beta, and some of his warriors were also trying to occupy the men that were trying to get to Rose. Steel clashed violently as Stefan met the first wave head-on, his sword cutting a brutal arc that sent an enemy crashing to the ground. Marcel was beside him in an instant, blocking a spear aimed at Stefan’s ribs and countering with a sharp thrust that dropped the attacker where he stood.

They were doing a great job—fighting like cornered wolves, each of them moving with desperate precision. Warriors slammed into enemies with shoulder charges, blades flashing in tight, fast motions. One of Stefan’s men tackled an opponent off his horse, both bodies rolling across the dirt in a savage tangle before the warrior managed to overpower him.

Another enemy tried to slip through, sprinting toward the direction Rose had fled. Stefan intercepted him with a roar, grabbing the man by the back of his armor and yanking him into a crushing knee strike before finishing him with one clean blow.

But there were too many.

No matter how many they cut down, more enemies poured around broken carts, fallen bodies, and scattered weapons. The pressure pushed Stefan’s line backward, forcing them to tighten their formation as horses screamed and men shouted orders over the chaos.

Marcel knocked a soldier to the ground, but two more vaulted over the fallen body and sprinted past him. Stefan turned, swinging to stop them, but another attacker crashed into him from the side, forcing him to defend himself instead of giving chase.

And just like that—
their line cracked.

A handful of enemy warriors slipped through the opening.

They didn’t hesitate—they bolted straight after Rose and Tristan, their boots pounding the earth, their armor rattling, swords raised high. One leapt onto a horse left wandering without a rider and kicked it hard, racing after them with terrifying speed. More followed, seizing abandoned horses or simply running on foot with wild determination.

Rose glanced back from Tristan’s horse and saw it—
enemy soldiers breaking away from the chaos, spreading out like predators who had finally scented their prey.

Stefan saw it too.

“No!” he roared, cutting through another man and trying to force his way toward the breach, rallying every warrior around him. But blood, dust, and bodies clogged the path, and despite his effort, he couldn’t reach the men who had broken through.

Some actually got away from them and were giving chase to Rose and Tristan on their horses—closing the distance with every heartbeat.

“Come on, let’s go after them before they get to Rose,” Alpha Stefan said, breathing hard as he killed the last man standing in front of him. Blood splattered across his arm, his chest rising and falling in frantic desperation.

“My alpha… I think we need to fall back with the others instead. They are becoming too many,” Beta Marcel said, glancing over Stefan’s shoulder as more enemy soldiers poured toward them—shadows closing in from all directions. And behind them, like a nightmare marching steadily closer, came Kavian’s brothers and their father, Alpha King Armon.

“No! We have to prevent them from getting to Rose,” Stefan argued, voice cracking under the weight of fear and fury.

“This is suicidal—” Marcel started, but Stefan snapped at him.

“I do not care!” he barked. “I am ready to die if I have to—so long as Rose is safe.” His voice trembled, not with fear, but with a father’s blind determination.

Marcel stared at him… then at the enemy advancing like a dark tide… then at their own men, who stood behind them pale and shaking, eyes wide with hopelessness.

“You have always cared about your daughter more than this pack,” Marcel said quietly.

“What nonsense are you say—”

Stefan never finished.

Marcel suddenly drove his sword forward—deep into Stefan’s heart. The blade punched through armor and flesh with a sickening sound. Stefan’s eyes widened, confusion flooding them more than pain.

His men froze—shock rooting them in place—as Marcel pulled the sword free. Stefan staggered, dropping to his knees, clutching at the wound as blood soaked through his fingers.

“Y… you…” Stefan choked out, trying to steady himself, eyes glassy with betrayal.

Marcel stood over him, chest heaving. He looked at the stunned warriors around them.

“You can either kill me,” he said, voice steady despite the tremor in his hands, “stay, fight, and die with him… or you can follow me and live to see your families again.” He gestured toward the overwhelming force closing in. “The choice is yours.”

The men looked between their fallen alpha, the enemy storming toward them, and Marcel. None raised a blade. Their silence—cold, terrified—was their answer.

“Come on. Let’s go before they get to us,” Marcel said, turning away, running. After a heartbeat of hesitation, the men followed him, boots pounding the earth as they abandoned the bleeding alpha to the battlefield.