The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna-Chapter 86 Can’t Be Captured

If Zion was right, then Greg was still alive and had betrayed them. But didn’t he do that a long time ago? He must have leaked Claire’s whereabouts in exchange for a position, safety, or a comfortable life. That would explain the enemy’s relentless determination—they knew exactly what they were after, and they were willing to do anything to get her. freeweɓnovel~cѳm

Yes, Beta Greg had forgotten to sever his link to the pack when he fled the territory. But when Zion remembered him a few weeks later, he began hunting down that traitor. The coward hid like a mouse, ran faster than a horse, and was as slippery as an eel.

Each time they managed to track him down, he slipped through their fingers, and the cycle repeated. Eventually, the bastard must have realized he was still connected to the Midnight River Pack—and that’s when he severed the link.

What Zion couldn’t understand, however, was how Greg always seemed to know when they were coming. Zion and Levi were meticulous, moving only when they were certain they could capture him. Yet somehow, each time they made a move, Greg vanished without a trace. The only explanation was that someone was helping him—someone who was just as cunning.

And now, Zion suspected that very same person might be the one orchestrating the attacks on his territory.

"Alpha Zion, something’s off about these bastards. They don’t act like real rogues. Maybe one or two of them are genuine, but the rest—it’s like they’re just pretending to be rogues to blend in with the crowd..." Levi’s voice echoed through the mindlink, suddenly connecting with Zion’s thoughts. His words only reinforced the conclusion Zion had already started to draw.

"Then how about capturing one of them?" Zion suggested calmly, his voice laced with quiet menace as he began to stride forward. The wolves surrounding him instinctively stepped back, eyes flickering toward the brown wolf, as if caught between a devil and something far worse. They seemed to be weighing which was the greater evil—Zion or their own leader—and their hesitation showed.

Zion came to a stop in front of the werewolf whose heart had been crushed, the only one who had died in human form. Unlike the others—whose deaths in wolf form meant their bodies would remain that way until they turned to bone—this one left behind a lifeless human shell. Zion stared down at the man’s face, expression unreadable. Still, the brown wolf made no move.

"Ha!" Levi let out a heavy, exasperated sigh before continuing, "I wouldn’t have contacted you if it weren’t a real issue. The problem is, the moment we capture one, they die—poisoned. They’ve got hidden poison pouches tucked behind their third molars, ready to bite down the second they’re caught."

He paused, frustration lacing his voice.

"I thought I could be fast enough to stop them from using it, but whoever’s behind this is too damn cautious. They even cursed these people, Alpha Zion— a kill-switch spell, to make sure they die the moment they try to leak any information."

He sighed again, the weight of helplessness settling on his shoulders. "So in the end, capturing them is pointless—unless we know what kind of curse they’re using, or unless we’ve got a Saint or an Apostle with us." Levi ran a hand through his hair, clearly at his wits’ end.

"They’re using death warriors—people prepared to die at any moment. And what’s worse is, they’re terrified. You can see it. They’re afraid, but not of us. Not even of dying. What they fear is being captured—because they know that if they live long enough to be interrogated, they’ll either be tortured to death or hunted down by the ones who sent them."

"And the method of execution?" He grimaced. "Most likely something slow, painful, and meant to send a message."

Levi came to this conclusion after a thorough and careful observation. Like his Alpha, he was convinced that these wolves had come to kidnap Claire. As for their motives, there were several possibilities—perhaps they intended to use her as a bargaining chip to gain leverage with the royal family, or maybe they aimed to make her their Luna, binding their bloodline to the royalty in hopes that their offspring might one day inherit the throne.

Whatever the reason, it was clear that Claire was the target. That’s why Zion had no choice but to hide her within his own pack, under a false identity as his fated mate. It was a dangerous move, but necessary.

For now, they were fortunate—only one faction seemed to have discovered the secret. And from the looks of it, even that group was doing its best to keep the information contained. How could Levi tell?

Because of the death warriors. The sheer extent of restrictions placed on them—the poison pouches, the fatal curses—indicated that the people behind this operation didn’t want anyone else learning the truth. They wanted to strike while the secret was still tightly guarded.

Even more insidious, it seemed they were planning to frame the rogues. If they had succeeded in abducting the princess, they could have easily pinned the blame on the rogue population. Zion’s forces would then be sent chasing ghosts, focused on fighting off the wrong enemy while the real perpetrators cleaned up the evidence and slipped away in another direction.

His pack would bear all the losses. And by the time the truth came out—by the time Zion realized what had hit him—it would be too late. The enemy’s plan would already be in motion, maybe even bearing fruit.

But they had clearly underestimated Alpha Zion. They thought he was like the others—predictable, slow, easily manipulated.

However... they were wrong.

Or perhaps they, too, were growing restless. After all, it had already been more than three years since the princess arrived at the Midnight River Pack, and the longer she remained, the greater the possibility that Claire would bear Zion a child—one that carried the royal bloodline.

Right now, the security within the Midnight River Pack was too tight for any direct infiltration, so their only option was to rely on rogue attacks. These frequent assaults served a dual purpose: they tested the pack’s defenses while also misleading its members into thinking that the rogues were acting out of desperation.

The increasing frequency of the attacks could easily be attributed to dwindling resources in the forest. After all, rogues, lacking the stability and structure of a pack, relied solely on hunting or stealing food. They didn’t have the sanity or discipline to farm or raise livestock the way established packs did.

More than that, they lacked solid intel about what was really happening inside the Midnight River Pack. Everyone within the pack was tight-lipped, and patrol routes were constantly shifting. Ever since Greg escaped, Zion had made it a point to frequently change the patrol rotations, positioning, and training schedules to prevent Greg from ever sneaking back in using his prior knowledge of the terrain or routines.

So even if the enemy had Greg, his usefulness was limited—he could only give them Claire’s location, nothing more. The rest of their efforts relied entirely on sending rogue attacks at intervals to observe the pack’s response—how quickly they reacted, how many warriors were dispatched, and how they moved. They were clearly trying to piece together a strategy through trial and error.

But even after all these years, they had yet to find a single opening.

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