The Alphas' Pride Mate (The Pride Who Goes Into Heat)

WHAT'S THE RUSH, MALTA.

Chapter: 66
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"What's the rush, Malta?" Seth inquired as they observed the wolf swiftly transforming. "Your hospitality leaves much to be desired," he taunted.

Nodding in agreement with his brother, Kurt remarked, "I agree, dear brother. We came as guests, yet he has chosen to remain hidden."

"And now it appears he is preparing to flee," Tricc jeered alongside his siblings.

"Surely this isn't your idea of welcoming guests, is it?" Seth prodded further.

Malta growled, his gaze intense as it pierced through the Lycgers. "Let's dispense with the jests and childish banter," he rumbled menacingly. "We understand your purpose for being here, so let's begin... the sooner we start, the sooner it will be over for the three of you!" Malta challenged.

"We are more than willing!" Tricc declared, "And I must admit, I have yearned for this since the moment I caught your scent on our mate's body!" With those parting words, Tricc surged forward.

As the Lycgers advanced, their primal instincts propelling them onward, Malta held his ground, his massive black wolf form defiantly towering. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the smell of blood and impending conflict heavy in the air. With a resounding roar, the Lycgers pounced, their claws slicing through the air towards Malta.

Reacting swiftly, Malta dodged and counterattacked, his jaws snapping at the closest Lycger, teeth sinking into fur and flesh. The space transformed into a battlefield, a whirl of fur, claws, and teeth as the adversaries engaged in a brutal dance of death.

Despite Malta's courageous efforts, he soon found himself outnumbered and outmatched by the relentless onslaught of the Lycgers. Their coordinated strikes overwhelmed him, forcing him back with each blow. Blood trickled from his wounds, mingling with the crimson stains that adorned the ground beneath his feet.

His body convulsed violently, each blow driving him backward, his muscles ablaze with agony and effort. The sickening sounds of flesh rending and bones snapping reverberated in his ears. No matter his tactics, his adversaries always proved stronger, quicker, and more merciless.

Malta sensed his vitality slipping away as his limbs weakened. Blood loss was taking its toll, his vision dimming. Despite the spinning world and encroaching darkness, he fought against unconsciousness with fierce determination. His focus remained unwavering; his sole objective was to extricate himself from this dire situation. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he staggered on, driven by the urgent need to flee. Defeat seemed inevitable; escape was his only recourse.

A smirk played on Tricc's lips as he watched Malta blindly lurch towards the exit, delivering a vicious blow that sent his claws sinking into Malta's back, forcing him to the ground with a pained howl escaping the wolf's lips upon impact. Standing triumphantly over the prone, bleeding wolf, Tricc taunted, "See? Running is all you can do... you're a coward." His expression twisted with malicious delight.

Lying on his side, the wolf gasped for air, immobilized by the weight of his injuries, a deep ache pulsing through his body. Tears streamed down his face in defeat, his form trembling uncontrollably, dread seeping into his very being. Refusing to succumb, a spark of defiance ignited within him. He couldn't allow them to triumph; he wouldn't crumble so easily. He had to retaliate, to show his own strength.