The Villains Must Win-Chapter 179: Lyander Wolfhart 29

Lyander crossed the room in quick strides, panic etched into every line of his body. Despite the fresh wounds still bleeding through his bandages, he didn’t even wince. He was too focused on her.

Before she could answer, the shamans and healers flooded in behind him, ushering him away with gentle but firm hands.

"She needs rest," one of the elder shamans said in a patient tone, placing a calming palm on Lyander’s chest.

"If not for them," Liora thought, watching with surprise, "he probably wouldn’t have left my side."

With a final reluctant glance, Lyander allowed himself to be guided out, though his gaze never left her until the door closed behind him.

Liora exhaled, her body slumping into the bed. She was grateful. She wasn’t ready to face his questions yet—not when she barely understood what had just happened to her own soul.

One of the shamans hovered beside her, ancient eyes peering deep into her spirit.

"That’s . . . odd," the crone murmured, her voice thick with centuries of wisdom. "One moment your life force was fading. The next—nothing. No sign of damage. No trace of death. Your energy is . . . back."

Liora forced a weak smile, her voice light with mock amusement. "Must be one of those human miracles I keep hearing about. Apparently, we’re prone to them."

The shaman’s gaze sharpened, turning piercing and suspicious. "The Moon Goddess grants miracles only to our kind," she said coolly.

Liora gave a small shrug. "Well, humans worship the god above. Maybe he was feeling generous."

That earned her a long, scrutinizing stare. But eventually, the shamans nodded and left the room, leaving only a pair of younger healers to tend to her.

As they checked her pulse and dabbed herbs on her temples, Liora couldn’t help but mutter, "So . . . are we guests now? Does that mean you’re not going to eat us?"

One of the healers snorted with laughter. "Lyander won the challenge fair and square. We honor our word. Alpha Kaius will hear his petition tomorrow."

That put her at ease. Werewolves were many things, but oath-breakers they were not. If they made a promise, they would die before breaking it.

The healer brushing a salve on her neck suddenly sighed dreamily.

"What?" Liora asked, already sensing where this was going.

The girl blushed, twirling her finger in her braid. "Does Lyander . . . have a mate?"

Liora raised a brow.

"I mean—are you his mate?" the healer added quickly. "I know it sounds crazy because, well, you’re human—but sometimes it happens, right?"

"Yeah, in romance novels," Liora thought wryly. Out loud, she replied, "No. I’m not his mate."

"Really?" the healer squealed, then quickly lowered her voice, embarrassed. "Sorry . . . it’s just . . . I know Lyander’s a rogue, and he’s supposed to be terrifying and all, but he’s just so . . . so . . ."

"Dreamy?" Liora deadpanned.

The girl giggled. "Exactly! He’s tall, brooding, all Alpha vibes and Daddy wolf material."

Liora choked. "What does that even mean?" freewebnøvel.coɱ

"I don’t know," the healer sighed happily. "But he carried you all the way here. Could barely stand, but wouldn’t let anyone else touch you. The shamans had to do a ritual just to convince him to step away and let them find out what was wrong. He was losing it."

Liora’s lips parted slightly, taken aback. "Really? That happened?"

"Like a bride," the healer confirmed, swooning. "I’ve never seen a wolf so protective before unless she’s his mate. It was honestly kind of romantic."

Just then, the door creaked open again.

Lyander stood there—his face unreadable, his presence heavy, and his body still wrapped in bandages. His gaze locked onto hers instantly.

"Can I talk to her now?" he asked, voice rough and commanding.

The healer flushed red as a tomato. "Y-Yes, of course!" she squeaked, nearly knocking over a tray as she rushed out of the room.

Liora smirked. "You should be nicer. The poor girl has a crush on you."

"She’s not the one who almost died," Lyander replied, sitting beside her with a grim expression.

"No sense of humor," she muttered, then tilted her head. "So . . . what do you want to talk about?"

"What really happened to you?"

She gave him the same practiced smile she used on shamans and annoying prying wolves. "Like I said. Human miracle. Came back from the brink of death. Maybe I was kissed by a ghost. Who knows?"

Lyander stared at her like she’d grown another head. He clearly didn’t believe her—but he didn’t press, either.

"I thought you were gone," he said quietly. "If the ritual didn’t work . . . I was going to leave. Injuries or not, I would’ve gone to find that flower or whatever shit that could bring you back."

Liora blinked. The healer’s words returned to her.

He’d been willing to go on a perilous journey for her—while barely able to walk himself.

Her throat tightened. "You’re such an idiot," she said softly.

He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yeah, well. I couldn’t lose you."

And just like that, the room fell quiet.

Not awkward.

Just full of things neither of them could quite say out loud yet.

Lyander cleared his throat, suddenly aware of what he’d just blurted out. He quickly backpedaled, his voice tight. "My wolf . . . he likes you."

Liora raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a knowing smile. "Really? Just your wolf?"

There was a beat of silence—long enough for the air to grow heavy with unspoken tension—before Lyander abruptly stood up, clearly flustered. "Since you’re fine now, I’ll head back to my room. If you need anything, just shout. I’m right next door."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and marched out, ears burning red all the way to the tips.

Liora couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped her lips. "Well . . . that was cute."

She leaned back against the pillows, a smile lingering on her face. For someone so terrifying in battle, Lyander sure flailed like a puppy when it came to feelings.

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