The Villains Must Win-Chapter 176: Lyander Wolfhart 26

Liora’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "Are you out of your mind?" she hissed. "There are six of them, Lyander. And not just any regular wolves, they’re the strongest in their pack. They’ll tear you apart!"

But Lyander didn’t even flinch. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his lips, wolfish and fearless. "Let them try."

Liora stared at him in disbelief. There was no hesitation in his expression, no fear—just the cold, deadly certainty of a man who had walked through hell before and was ready to do it again.

And, stars help her, that grin made her heart skip in a way it shouldn’t.

"You don’t have to prove anything to them," she said, her voice lower now, almost pleading. "We came to talk, to unite—not to feed their egos."

He glanced sideways at her, eyes softening for a fraction of a second. "This is the only language they understand," he murmured. "Let me speak it."

Liora wanted to argue again, but something in his tone held her still. Not just his words—but the storm she saw building behind his calm. There was anger there, something buried deep and raw beneath the controlled exterior.

This wasn’t just about diplomacy—this was personal. His wolf had been challenged, and no matter how much Lyander tried to deny his lineage or reject the pull of pack life, he was still an Alpha through and through.

It ran in his blood, burned in his bones. Some things couldn’t be cast aside—especially not when his dominance was being questioned.

However, it wasn’t like Liora was going to just sit back and watch him die.

Sure, she knew Lyander and his wolf were powerful—there was no question about that. She’d seen his speed, his strength, the way his instincts could slice through danger like a blade through silk. But against six fully grown, battle-hardened wolves—Kaius and his five betas—this wasn’t just a fight. It was a bloodbath waiting to happen.

He could probably win. Maybe. But not without taking grievous injuries himself.

And the idea of him bleeding out on some ancient proving ground while a bunch of muscle-drunk wolves howled over their so-called victory? That made her sick.

She clenched her fists at her sides, heart thudding with a dangerous rhythm. If she had to use her powers to make the battlefield even, then so be it. Let the world find out what she was. Let them call her a liar, a deceiver, an ingredient for potions. None of it mattered anymore.

Not if it meant Lyander lived.

Because he wasn’t just some arrogant wolf with too much pride and a scowl that could freeze lava—he was still Henry’s right hand. The one person who could stand toe to toe with Rhett. The only one who could rally the packs, command respect, and still scare the hell out of their enemies with nothing more than a glance.

He was their ace in the hole. And she wasn’t about to let that card burn before the game had even truly begun.

As the challenge was called and the wolves began forming a wide circle around the clearing, Liora stepped in close, grabbing Lyander’s arm before he could shift. freewēbnoveℓ.com

"No. This is suicide."

"I’ve survived worse."

"That’s not the point, you hardheaded mutt!" Her voice cracked with emotion, and she hated it. Hated the way her throat tightened. Hated that her fear was real. "This is stupid, and you know it. You don’t need to prove anything to them."

"I’m not proving anything to them," he said, voice low now, just for her. "I’m proving it to him—my wolf. He needs this."

She stared at him, searching his face. There was a storm behind his eyes—one that hadn’t quieted in years. A fury that had been simmering beneath his skin since the day his own pack betrayed him. He wasn’t just fighting to prove dominance. He was fighting for the part of himself he’d tried to bury long ago.

"You’re a fool," she whispered, her fingers tightening around his arm.

"I’ve been called worse."

And then, to her utter frustration, he leaned down just enough for his forehead to brush against hers—brief, intimate, grounding.

"I’ll come back to you," he murmured.

Her breath caught.

And then he stepped away.

The wolves around them howled their approval as Lyander stripped off his shirt and shifted, bones cracking, fur bursting forth in a storm of raw energy. His wolf form was massive—sleek and lethal, grey as storm clouds with eyes like molten gold. The air around him practically hummed with dominance.

The five betas shifted next, surrounding Kaius like a wall of muscle and fury.

Liora stayed just at the edge of the ring, heart pounding, fingers twitching with the ache of unused power. Every instinct in her screamed to intervene, to help, to tip the scales. But she knew—this was not the right time yet.

There were shamans around, and she knew they would surely feel the unnatural energy rippling through the air. The earth trembled with the faintest stir of her power, as if it too sensed the tension mounting.

But if she could just control it—anchor it to the ground, bury it beneath the surface a little—there was a chance they wouldn’t notice.

Her fingers twitched, and she reached out, feeling the pulse of the earth beneath her boots. The connection was weaker than it had been, but it was still there, waiting. If she could anchor the energy to the soil—bury it deep, out of sight—she could manipulate the terrain just enough to give Lyander a chance.

But it had to be subtle. Any sudden surge and the shamans would feel it, and that would be the end.

She took a slow, steadying breath, her eyes fixed on Lyander as he faced off with Kaius. The Alpha stood like a predator ready to strike, a blur of muscle and sinew, and behind him loomed his five Betas—each one nearly as massive, their presence radiating strength and danger.

Lyander wasn’t far off in build—broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, his power coiled just beneath the surface—but against six seasoned wolves, one misstep could cost him everything. One wrong move, and it could all be over.

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