Chapter 153 Chapter 153

Chapter 153 Chapter 153
Rose’s pov

“You can leave,” the man said, eyes flickering to me. “But she comes with us.”

“I see,” Aunty Vivian replied, her voice oddly calm—too calm. For a second I thought she had accepted their terms… until her fist snapped forward, slamming into the man’s jaw with a sharp crack.

“Run!” she screamed at me.

Her shout jolted through me, my body tensing as I processed whether to flee or stay with her.

“I am not leaving without you,” I said, my voice firm, stubborn.

“Fuck! You fucking bitch!” the man snarled, blood dripping from his lip. “I will make you pay for that.”
He reached for his sword, steel whispering free—and the others followed, blades glinting as they tightened their circle.

My aunt and I instinctively backed up until we were pressed together again, standing in the center like cornered animals.

“You should have gone when I told you to,” my aunt muttered, frustration leaking into her voice.

“There is no way I am leaving you,” I said, meeting her eyes. I saw it then—just a flicker—but pride shone through her anger.

“Then get ready to fight,” she said.

I nodded, raising my fists with hers.

“We need the Phoenix girl alive,” the man said coldly, pointing his blade at me. “This one—not so much.”

They advanced.

My anger surged, hot and wild. They didn’t want to hurt me—at least not fatally—but my aunt was expendable. That meant I needed to focus on her, keep them off her however I could.

The first attacker lunged.
Aunty Vivian moved faster.

She grabbed his wrist, twisted sharply, and the sword clattered to the ground. Before he could react, she drove her knee into his stomach, forcing a grunt from his lungs. I rushed in, punching him across the temple. His head snapped sideways and he collapsed.

Two more came at us immediately.

A blade sliced toward my aunt—
I kicked the man’s arm mid-swing, throwing off his aim. He stumbled long enough for my aunt to elbow him in the throat. He gagged, dropping to his knees.

Another grabbed me from behind, his arm locking around my neck.
Panic flared—
I stomped down on his foot hard, then slammed my head backward into his nose. Cartilage crunched and his hold loosened. I twisted free and drove my elbow into his ribs until he went down.

But there were still three left, circling, angrier now.

One swung at me. I barely dodged—the blade grazed my arm, burning across my skin.
Pain flashed, but I forced myself to stay upright.

My aunt grabbed the attacker’s wrist, but another man charged her from the side. I rushed him, tackling him before his blade could reach her. We hit the dirt hard. He tried to overpower me, but rage gave me strength—I punched him again and again until he stopped fighting.

The remaining two attacked together.

My aunt blocked one with a fierce kick to his knee—the crack was audible. He screamed and dropped.
The last man rushed me, swinging wildly. I ducked the first slash, caught his wrist on the second, and drove my fist straight into his jaw. He faltered—Aunty Vivian spun and kicked him across the face, sending him crashing to the ground.

Silence fell.

Bodies groaned around us, none dead but all defeated.

A hard-fought win.
A terrifying one.

My chest heaved as I stood beside my aunt, both of us bruised, breathing hard, blood—ours and theirs—splattered across our skin.

But we had won.

I was feeling proud of our effort, but then everything shifted.

“This isn’t over yet,” my aunt said, her voice low and edged with steel. She bent down and snatched one of the fallen swords from the ground, the blade scraping against gravel as she lifted it. The cold intent in her eyes made my stomach tighten—she was looking to finish them.

“Wait… do we have to kill them?” I asked, my voice barely steady. The adrenaline was fading, and now that the men were groaning and disarmed, I no longer saw them as a real threat—just terrified, desperate people.

“One of the most important lessons in life—never leave an enemy breathing when you have the chance,” she said. She grabbed one man by the head, yanking him up. The sword hovered dangerously close to his throat, and he trembled so hard his teeth chattered. The smell of his fear filled the cold morning air.

I swallowed hard. “I know they tried to harm us, but aren’t we trying to save everyone in this city? Aren’t they part of them too?” The question slipped out before I could think, but it stopped her hand.

She paused, breath clouding in the air. Then she scoffed and released him with a shove. “Come after us again? Better get ready to say goodbye to your heads,” she warned, stepping back from him.

My lungs loosened.

She then turned and chased four of the men’s horses, slapping their hindquarters so they galloped off into the forest, leaving the men stranded and unable to follow. We mounted two of the remaining horses and rode toward the distant horn. It was still the dark hour of the morning, but the sky was just beginning to pale at the edges.

“Faster! They are drawing nearer to our pack,” she urged, her voice sharp with urgency as the wind lashed past us.

Finally, the advancing army came into view—rows of armored men, shadows against the breaking dawn. They must have spotted us because the front line stiffened and several lifted their bows, arrows trained on us. My heart lurched.

Then one man waved them down. Relief swept over me when his scent hit the air.

Arman.

He must have recognized mine too, because the order was immediate. His brothers, Roshan and Shirin, stepped out from the ranks—tall figures emerging from the shifting crowd. I couldn’t clearly see their faces from this distance, but I knew from the way they froze that they hadn’t expected to see me here.

As we drew closer, their father came into focus—Alpha King Almon riding a black stallion, broad-shouldered and towering, looking more imposing than the night itself.

“Is that their father?” Aunty Vivian asked under her breath. Even she sounded shaken, and nothing ever intimidated her.

I simply nodded. “Yes.”

He glanced at us, icy blue eyes cutting clean through the morning dim, and both of us quickly looked away.

My mates rode forward to meet us.

“Rose. What are you doing here?” Arman asked. He didn’t need to say more—I could hear the worry threading through every word.

“You guys have to stop,” I told him, breath uneven from the ride and fear tangled in my chest. “You can’t go through with this fight with my pack and city.”

“We have no choice. Your father has our brother,” Arman said, his jaw tight.

“And I promise you this—Kavian will be released. But you have to stop your men from advancing toward Crescent Moon’s pack,” I said.

“That’s not my call to make. It’s my father’s,” he replied, glancing toward the king.

“Then talk to him for me,” I said, feeling desperation claw at my throat. “I am ready to leave with you to your hometown. I’m ready to do whatever he wants. But he has to spare my people and my city.”

“Please. I need your help. Please.” The words tumbled out of me, raw and urgent. I could see the hesitation flicker across their faces as Arman and his brothers exchanged uncertain glances.

“I’m sorry, Rose… but it’s already too late for that now,” Arman said. His voice was low, almost pained.

Before I could fully process the meaning, movement exploded around us. Men surged forward from every direction. Rough hands grabbed me, another set seized my aunty, yanking us off our horses. The reins slipped from my fingers as the ground rushed up at me.

“A-Arman! Roshan! Shirin!” I called out, desperation strangling my voice. But they didn’t move. They just stood there—frozen, helpless—eyes filled with regret as their soldiers carried us away…

Our hands and feet were bound like criminals, rope cutting into our skin. They shoved us into a carriage, its wooden walls rattling as we were dragged to the gates of our pack. Outside, I could hear the rumble of armies—my father’s warriors, and those of Moonlit Shadow and Nightshade Wolves—gathered like thunderclouds on the brink of war.

From inside the carriage, muffled but clear enough, came Alpha King Armon’s voice—cold, commanding—as he addressed the opposing side.

He declared that this city and everyone in it had been marked for destruction. That if they wanted a peaceful death, they should release his son, Kavian.

My father’s response cut through the air like a blade. He refused—blatantly, viciously—promising that it was them who would die here today… and that Kavian would watch his people fall.

My stomach twisted painfully. “This is all so wrong,” I whispered. My aunty didn’t answer. She stared at the ground, jaw tight, the kind of silence that meant she was thinking—planning—trying to find even the smallest crack to slip through.

But before she could act, the carriage doors were flung open. Soldiers grabbed us and dragged us out into the open. My father’s eyes widened, true shock breaking across his face when he saw us. He hadn’t known we were gone from the pack house.

“Bring them over here,” Alpha King Armon commanded.

We were forced forward, the ground cold under our knees as we were pushed before him. He stepped closer, his gaze cutting into me.

“Perhaps this will change your mind,” he said.

I didn’t even have time to breathe.

In one swift, brutal motion, his hand shot forward—faster than my eyes could follow. A force like a violent gust of wind cracked through the air as his fingers sliced cleanly through flesh and bone as if they were nothing.

A single, horrifying motion.

My aunty’s head dropped from her neck.

“Ahhhhhh!” The scream tore out of me—raw, shattering—my whole body convulsing in shock and agony.

“Your daughter’s head will be next,” he added, his tone terrifyingly calm.