Chapter 135 Get rescued

Chapter 135 Get rescued
Aelira’s POV

The hulking henchman moves closer with lethal intent, his scarred expression set with grim resolve. Even as I try desperately to shield Alarion’s injured body, he shoves me aside without mercy.

“Move, you bitch!” he spits.

My wrists are bound, and I lose my balance, falling hard onto the concrete. The thug seizes Alarion by his blood-soaked shirt collar and begins hauling him toward the spinning cement mixer. The massive machine thunders on, sounding eager for another victim.

A fresh trail of blood follows across the warehouse floor from Alarion’s wound, painting a gruesome red path that fills me with terror. My wolf cries out in agony inside me.

“Alarion!” I scream, forced to watch as his pallor grows even more deathly.

“No!” I shout again, fighting to rise despite my ankles being tied.

But Cyrinne suddenly looms over me, slamming me back to the ground with cruel strength. The crazed delight on her face reveals just how far gone she is. Her green eyes shine with wild pleasure as she watches Alarion being dragged closer to destruction.

“Aelira Sunmere, don’t be impatient!” Cyrinne cackles, her laughter unhinged. “You’re next in line!”

She claps her hands together with mad excitement.

“I want you to see with your own eyes as Alarion gets churned into nothing but bloody pulp! Haha.”

Just as I ready myself to try getting up again, a deafening crash suddenly shakes the warehouse.

A sleek black SUV bearing the unmistakable Nightshade Pack insignia smashes through the warehouse doors, sending metal and debris flying as it skids to a halt inside. As soon as the driver’s side door swings open and a striking, formidable man steps out, I can’t help but beam with unrestrained happiness.

“Daelor!” The name bursts from me, my voice trembling from sheer relief.

The moment he steps inside, Daelor’s overwhelming Alpha energy saturates the warehouse, making the very walls seem to hum with his presence. Cyrinne’s look shifts in an instant from crazed delight to stunned terror. Instinctively, she retreats several steps, her former bravado vanishing.

Watching Daelor advance with intimidating confidence and a harsh set to his features, Cyrinne jolts out of her craze. Her gaze flickers desperately before locking onto a nearby heavy wrench. Without hesitation, she stoops, seizes the hefty tool, and brandishes it above her, her intent murderous.

“Drop dead!” she screeches, lunging at me with the wrench raised.

But Daelor reacts before she can strike, surging forward with an Alpha’s speed that outpaces her by far. His foot slams into Cyrinne’s abdomen, propelling her several meters away. She collides with a pile of metal barrels, the crash echoing throughout the warehouse. His eyes, cold and silver, sparkle with warning as he watches her crumple to the ground.

Wasting no time, Daelor draws close to me, his distinctive Alpha scent enveloping me and making me feel safe.

“Aelira, are you hurt?” His words are soft, concern threading through his voice despite the surrounding turmoil. He reaches down to lift me from the floor and expertly begins freeing my bound hands.

But I shove his hands away urgently, panic rising inside me.

“Hurry, you have to save Alarion!” I gesture frantically toward the cement mixer. “They’re trying to kill him!”

Daelor barely reacts, his brow creasing only slightly. He continues to slice through my ropes with unwavering focus.

“Stay calm,” he replies, his baritone steady and unhurried. “Alarion is safe now. Someone is already helping him.”

It’s at that moment I realize Daelor didn’t arrive alone. A group of seven or eight territorial enforcers has filed in behind him, their tactical gear catching what little light filters through the warehouse.

Once my bonds are off, I scramble to my feet to check on Alarion, my ankles shaky after being bound for so long. Daelor catches my arm gently but firmly, protective instincts radiating from him.

“Take it slow,” he advises.

The enforcers have already overpowered the gang of burly thugs, locking silver-laced cuffs around their wrists with practiced skill. Even Cyrinne lies on the ground in handcuffs, her immaculate makeup now streaked with dust and the sting of defeat.

Nearby, a uniformed enforcer is gently helping Alarion up, every movement slow and careful. As Alarion shifts, blood gushes anew from the reopened knife wound, soaking his shredded shirt in fresh red. Despite obvious suffering, Alarion manages a faint, encouraging smile for me. Though pain clouds his amber eyes, they remain bright.

“Aelira,” he murmurs weakly.

I move toward him as quickly as my battered ankles allow, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

“Don’t speak,” I tell him firmly. “We have to get you to a hospital right away.”

Soon enough, uniformed officers are easing Alarion into an official enforcer vehicle, handling him with care. I instinctively move to follow, but Daelor’s firm grip closes around my wrist. He eyes my swollen ankle with genuine concern.

“You’re riding with me,” he says with Alpha certainty. “You need your own injuries treated, too.”

Right then, Maria’s wailing voice slices through the clamor inside the warehouse.

“It’s so painful! Please be careful with me, woo woo woo…”