The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna - Chapter 379

Chapter 379: Chapter 379 Sacrifice
The warriors clenched their jaws in fury, their hearts heavy with pain. If Greg and his men were already on their trail, then the comrades they’d left behind were surely gone. The thought stabbed at them like a knife twisting in their guts.

Those fallen warriors weren’t just comrades, they were brothers who had grown up together, trained side by side, worn the same tattered shorts as boys, and forged their strength through countless sparring matches.

Remembering their laughter now made the ache unbearable. It took everything they had not to break down as they ran.

In fact, some of the warriors running with Levi were already crying, their vision blurred by tears. But none of them dared to turn back. They knew how important Levi was, not just because he is a Beta of one of the most powerful Packs in the werewolf Kingdom, the Midnight River Pack, but as their Princess’s fated mate.

If he died, it wouldn’t only be the Midnight River Pack that suffered the loss of a capable Beta; it would shatter Addison as well.

They all knew what that meant. The death of a fated mate could break not only the heart but also the body and soul. If Addison were to follow him in grief, the entire werewolf kingdom would be thrown into chaos even more.

“Don’t stop! Run faster!!!” the warrior carrying Levi barked, his voice cracking with strain. He was on the verge of tears himself, but he had no choice; he had to keep running. The sound of pounding footsteps grew louder behind them, closing in fast.

Because he carried Levi, and the others had to guard their retreat, their pace couldn’t match Greg’s people, who were now charging at full speed. Some of Greg’s men had already shifted into their wolf forms, their snarls echoing through the trees as they prepared to pounce on the first warrior they could reach.

“Don’t stop and don’t look back, keep running!!!” he barked again, his voice hoarse with panic as his chest twisted in both sorrow and dread. He could tell Greg was a madman; anyone could, from the way he treated his own men like cannon fodder, sacrificing them for his twisted amusement.

Greg didn’t even flinch when his men fell right before his eyes, all because of his cruel games. That alone told the warrior everything: Greg wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter them one by one, either, no matter how loyal or desperate they were.

Bitterness burned in his throat. Why did a monster like Greg possess such terrifying strength? Why did fate allow someone so wicked to overpower those who only wished to protect their home?

The disparity between them felt like a cruel joke, a mocking reminder of their weakness. If only they were stronger, would they still be running like cornered dogs with their tails between their legs?

For a moment, he wanted to curse the Moon Goddess for her unfairness, but he swallowed his anger, forcing his legs to move faster instead. And he could tell Greg’s strength wasn’t ordinary.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him; he could feel it. The strength radiating from Greg’s body was suffocating, almost tangible, like a storm pressing down on his chest.

That murky, dark aura surrounding Greg wasn’t natural; it pulsed with something foul and corrupted. He could tell Greg was even stronger than Beta Levi, and that realization made his blood run cold.

But that ominous aura… it wasn’t born of the Moon Goddess’ blessing. No, it reeked of dark magic. The warrior could sense it in his bones. Greg must have used forbidden power to amplify his strength. And such power always came with a price: innocent lives, sacrificed to fuel his madness.

Realizing that, the warrior stopped himself from cursing the Moon Goddess. It wasn’t Her fault that a wicked man like Greg possessed such strength. Greg hadn’t been blessed; he had stolen that power, defiling everything sacred to their kind just to become stronger.

And because of that realization, he knew all the more that he couldn’t let Levi fall into Greg’s hands. He could sense that Greg held a deep vendetta against Levi, and that meant he would never allow him a quick or painless death.

Greg wanted him to suffer.

It also became clear to him that Greg’s act of letting them “escape” was nothing but a cruel game, a twisted way to grant them false hope before tearing it away just to savor their despair. Greg wasn’t just deranged; he was a wicked, sadistic villain who took pleasure in others’ pain.

Thinking about it, the warrior’s chest tightened with sorrow for the comrades they left behind, those who died unjustly, sacrificed to buy them time. Their deaths weighed heavily on his heart.

Still, he took a small, grim comfort in knowing that their Alpha must have already sensed the loss of their packmates. After all, a pack’s bond was tied to its Alpha, and the death of even one member would surely echo through that connection, alerting their Alpha to the gravity of their situation.

And sure enough, the moment those warriors fell one after another like flies, Alpha Hue, who had been fighting desperately to carve a path through the enemy lines for Maxwell and his men, suddenly staggered.

His knees nearly buckled as he felt the invisible threads connecting him to his pack members snap one by one. Each broken link sent a wave of agony through his heart, a searing reminder that his warriors were dying, his people, his family.

A choked whimper escaped him as grief and rage collided within his chest, threatening to shatter his resolve. Maxwell, who was just about to push forward through the forest, froze mid-step and turned around. His eyes met Alpha Hue’s trembling form, filled with confusion and worry, silently asking what was wrong.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine! Just go and provide Beta Levi with support! His condition is worsening!” Alpha Hue managed to say between ragged gasps as he clutched his chest, pain twisting his features.

Seeing him like this amid the chaos of battle, Maxwell’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. As an Alpha, Hue shared a spiritual and emotional bond with every member of his pack.

Their deaths weren’t just numbers on a battlefield; they were daggers through his heart, wounds that tore into his very soul. The agony Alpha Hue was enduring could only mean one thing: Levi’s side was in grave danger, and too many of their warriors had fallen in such a short span.

Maxwell clenched his fists, resolve hardening. There was no more time to hesitate. With a firm nod toward Alpha Hue, he turned and dashed into the forest, leaving the Alpha on his knees as the remaining Golden Hue Pack’s warriors closed ranks around their Alpha, shielding him until he could stand again.

While Maxwell was sprinting through the chaos, Chase, the gray wolf Greg had sent to distract him, stood motionless amid the battlefield. Then, without warning, Chase vanished into the shadows of the night, as if he had never been there at all.

Maxwell barely noticed his disappearance at first.

The moment he uncovered Chase’s true identity earlier in the fight, the wolf had ceased hindering him, almost as though his mission had already been fulfilled. It baffled Maxwell; Chase simply withdrew from the battle, indifferent to what came next.