Tyler.
"We have taken the front gates, Alpha," one of my warriors reported. "We also killed all the guards at the gates and those stationed nearby."
Their success sent a surge of satisfaction through me, a grim acknowledgment of the necessary sacrifices on the path to reclaiming what was rightfully mine. I nodded, my jaw clenched with determination and gestured for my warriors to follow as we pressed forward into Crest pack.
"Attack!" I bellowed. With a primal roar, we surged forward, a relentless tide of fury and vengeance crashing against the defenses of the Crest pack. The clash of metal on metal, the anguished cries of the fallen warriors.
As the fight wore on, the civilians of the pack fled the streets. Doors were shut, windows locked. Seems like not everyone fought for Crest pack. Growling, I pushed on, my claws cutting down two guards and turning back to stab another guard behind me. Each strike was fueled by a mixture of anger and determination, a desperate attempt to reclaim what was rightfully mine.
The scent of iron hung heavy in the air, mingling with the earthy musk of sweat and adrenaline. Each step forward brought us closer to the heart of Crest pack—Ethan's mansion. And yet, despite the urgency of the fight, a haunting sense of nostalgia gnawed at the edges of my consciousness.
This was my home, once. A place filled with memories both bitter and sweet, now stained with betrayal and loss. As I cut down yet another Crest guard, I felt angry and guilty at the state of Crest pack—I had left my home in the hands of a monster.
But there was no time for regret, no room for sentimentality. My sharp claws emerged from my fingers as I pushed through the throng of Crest guards, their shouts and cries falling on deaf ears.
But amidst the turmoil of battle, amidst the chaos and carnage, one thought burned brighter than all the rest: Arya, my beloved, the very essence of my being. The mere thought of her in danger spurred me onward, driving me to push past any physical and emotional barriers.
I could feel the weak, erratic rhythm of her heartbeat echoing in the depths of my soul, a fragile lifeline tethering me to sanity amidst the noise of the violence and bloodshed. With each beat, I felt a surge of fierce protectiveness wash over me, a primal instinct demanding that I get to her and keep her safe at all costs.
As we moved to enter the mansion, some guards came out, attacking us. The clash of claws against flesh filled the air, the sound of battle echoing through the empty streets. Each strike and parry brought me closer to Arya.
Arya's heartbeat echoed in my ears, clearer this time, driving me forward with a renewed sense of purpose. With a roar, I surged forward, my claws cutting through the air with deadly precision.
The guards fell before us, their bodies littering the ground. And then, finally, we stood before the doors of Ethan's mansion, the imposing structure looming before us like a fortress.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Whatever awaited us inside, I knew one thing for certain—I would not rest until Arya was safe with me again.
With a nod to my men, I pushed open the doors and stepped inside the grand foyer, my senses on high alert. The air was heavy with the scent of polished wood and expensive perfume, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around us. My gaze swept over the opulent surroundings, searching for any sign of movement.
"Ethan!" I called out, my voice a low growl that reverberated through the cavernous space. "I know you can hear me. You can come out from behind your guard skirts now."
My muscles tensed, ready for a fight, but there was no response. Frustration gnawed at me, fueling the fire of determination burning within. Arya was somewhere in this maze of luxury, and I would tear through every inch of it to find her.
With a curt nod to my men, I split them into groups, each tasked with scouring a different part of the mansion. Every second wasted was another moment Arya remained in danger, and I refused to let her suffer any longer than necessary.
Silence greeted me, broken only by the echo of my own footsteps as I moved further into the mansion. "Ethan!" I called out again. "Don't make me hunt you down like a coward."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard movement ahead. My senses sharpened, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I prepared for the confrontation that awaited me.
"Ethan," I growled as I rounded the corner, my eyes locking onto his form. He stood before me, his face twisted with rage and defiance.
He smirked, a twisted mockery of amusement playing across his lips. "Tyler," he replied, "how nice of you to join the party."
His arrogance grated on my nerves, fueling the fire of anger burning within me. Arya was in this house, I was certain of that, and I would tear it apart brick by brick to find her.
"Where's Arya?" I demanded, frustration and fear mingling in the pit of my stomach.
"How dare you attack my pack?" Ethan spat.
His refusal to answer only fueled my anger.
"She's not here, Tyler," Ethan sneered. He ran his hands over his hair as though he was trying to hide his frustration. "And even if she was, what makes you think I'd tell you?"
If Arya wasn't here, then where was she? And how much time had we wasted, storming blindly into Ethan's mansion? I didn’t have a plan. All I wanted was to get my wife back.
I gritted my teeth, pushing aside the doubt and uncertainty threatening to consume me. I observed him as he spoke.
"You're a coward, Ethan," I spat as I met his gaze head-on. "Hiding behind your guards. But mark my words, I will find Arya. And when I do, you'll be six feet under."
Ethan had tells when he was lying, one of them was his stance or any unusual movement. From his frustrated demeanor, I could tell he was lying. I just needed to keep him distracted and let my men find her.
“You’d kill your only brother?” Ethan cooed from where he was standing mockingly.
I growled at him, letting my fangs show. Only one emotion coursed through my veins and it was pure hatred. “You’re not my brother. You’re a fucking snake.”