The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation (Valeria) novel Chapter 378

NARRATOR

"Aggrr, le…t me… go… you bas…tard!" Arthur struggled like a cornered tiger.

His torso twisted, desperately trying to shake off the vermin that had leaped onto his back.

Álvaro’s hands trembled more and more as he tightened the rope between his wrists.

His veins bulged, protruding beneath his skin, while his wounds seeped streaks of blood.

He clenched his teeth, his vision going dark, on the verge of losing consciousness, but his thirst for revenge kept his fury burning.

But it wasn’t enough.

He loosened his grip for just a second—just one—and his entire body twisted, crashing onto the hard ground.

His head hit the earth, and he groaned in pain, his throat raw and scraped.

In the distance, the roars of battle; nearby, the choked coughing of his enemy.

Álvaro tried to get up, but this time, his body refused to obey. The rush of adrenaline was wearing off.

"You bastard! You’re about to find out what happens when you mess with me!" The furious scream was followed by a crushing weight on his waist.

Álvaro couldn’t fight back, even if he wanted to.

Inside, he screamed at himself: React! Move! Defend yourself! But his body was beyond miracles—completely drained.

A brutal punch added to his collection of injuries.

Arthur, tired of playing, pulled a knife from inside his boot, flipping it open to expose the sharp blade.

"You’re going to regret the day you touched what was mine," he growled at the dazed man beneath him.

He even had the audacity to lean over his face.

"I’m going to fuck her every night while you rot with the worms."

Arthur let out a sinister laugh—nothing compared to the satisfaction of eliminating a rival.

He raised his arm and swung the knife down, fast and precise.

Just inches from Álvaro’s bruised neck, he stopped, his fingers trembling on the hilt.

Something warm splattered across Álvaro’s face. He managed to focus just enough to see the sheer terror frozen on Arthur’s features.

A crimson river poured down, staining every inch of his face. Lodged deep in his forehead, piercing into his brain, was a short-handled axe.

His erratic pupils dimmed, the glint of hatred fading into nothingness. Arthur’s body collapsed heavily on top of Álvaro, forcing a strangled groan from his lips.

The air reeked of thick, metallic blood—suffocating. But before he could process it, firm hands yanked the corpse off him, tossing it aside.

"Álvaro!" The deep voice of Tomás shattered the tension, shaking him roughly.

His face was tight, smeared with dirt and sweat.

"Don’t fucking die on me here!"

"Ugh… You’re gonna… end up… kill…ing me…" Álvaro groaned under the rough shaking.

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