Chapter 4
Kieran's elite guards didn't even have time to shout a warning before a terrifying, tsunami-like aura crashed down on them, flattening them against the floor.
Crack. Snap.
The sickening sound of bones breaking echoed through the cell. The guards vomited mouthfuls of blood, passing out with their eyes rolled back before they could even scream.
"Who is it?!"
Kieran forced himself to stay standing, but his legs were shaking violently.
The dust settled.
Luca's cold, lethal face appeared in the flickering torchlight.
He was still wearing his ragged clothes, but his eyes had completely transformed into bone-chilling, deep green slit pupils.
The air in the dungeon turned to lead. A suffocating, pitch-black storm of pure dominance slammed into the room.
Kieran's proud Alpha aura was pulverized into absolute nothingness under this absolute bloodline suppression.
Thud!
Kieran's knees slammed into the stone floor.
His eyes bulged in pure terror, staring at the "mute beggar" he had mocked just hours ago.
"You... how is it you?!"
Luca didn't even glance at him.
His eyes bypassed Kieran entirely, landing straight on my bloodied wrists, torn raw by the iron cuffs, and the spilled Wolfsbane on the floor.
In that split second, the temperature in the dungeon plummeted to absolute zero.
He moved.
BAM!
Before Kieran could even register the movement, Luca kicked him in the chest.
Kieran flew backward, slamming into the solid stone wall with a sickening crunch, coughing up a spray of blood.
Luca strode right up to me.
Those massive, lethal hands—hands that could easily rip apart a demonic beast—were trembling slightly as he carefully cupped my wrists.
He grabbed the enchanted iron chains with his bare hands.
CRACK!
The indestructible iron snapped like dry twigs, crushed into powder within his grip.
Losing the support of the chains, my legs gave out, and I collapsed into a broad, burning-hot chest.
"Luca..."
I leaned weakly against him. The tears I had fought so hard to hold back finally burned my eyes.
He lowered his head, gently rubbing his stubbled jaw against my forehead. A deep, heartbroken whimper vibrated in his throat.
He sounded like a lone wolf desperately comforting his terrified mate.
He scooped me up into his arms, holding me securely against his chest with one hand, and turned around.
Kieran, covered in dust and his own blood, was desperately scrambling backward on the floor.
Suddenly, Kieran's eyes locked onto Luca's neck.
The ugly scar that had covered his throat was gone. In its place, fueled by extreme rage and awakened bloodline power, a dark-gold, ancient totem of a two-headed demon wolf burned brightly against his skin.
"The two-headed demon wolf... The dark-gold bloodline..."
"You're not a rogue! You're the tyrant who slaughtered the thirteen northern tribes! The one exiled by the Holy Mountain Council..."
"You are the Lord of the Night Abyss... The Abyss King?!"
Kieran's voice cracked, shrill with absolute despair.
The dungeon fell dead silent.
The Abyss King.
The legendary supreme Alpha possessing the purest ancient wolf bloodline. The ruthless tyrant who had literally ripped an ice dragon apart with his bare hands in the Frozen Wastes. The monster that every pack on the continent deeply feared.
Wasn't he supposed to have disappeared in a tribal power struggle three years ago?!
Luca looked down at the paralyzed Kieran with dead eyes.
Finally, he opened his mouth, speaking for the first time in three years.
"Touch my mate, you die."
The moment the words left his lips, a terrifying dark storm gathered in Luca's palm. He aimed it directly at Kieran's skull, ready to obliterate him.
Right then, a shrill scream pierced the dungeon.
"Stop! Don't you dare hurt Kieran!"
Lilia had somehow crept to the doorway. In her grip, she was holding the elderly Healer hostage.
A poisoned dagger was pressed tight against the old woman's throat.