Page 47 of Prey of the Lycan Queen (Unwanted #2)

Chapter Forty-Six

An electric hum of danger hangs in the air, sending my instincts into overdrive. The pursuing vehicles glint ominously under the moonlight in the side mirror. A menacing horde of motorcyclists follows close behind, their engines growling like predatory beasts.

“They’re on bikes too,” I warn Regan.

“Even if they were riding unicorns, it wouldn’t help them,” Regan snarls. He glances over at me, an unspoken promise passing between us. They’re not catching us, not tonight. He shifts gears, and his eyes are wild and manic.

One of the motorcycles catches up first and runs up the side of the truck.

The wolves snarl savagely, rocking the truck with their movements.

Suddenly, Gnash leaps off the roof, and Hunter explodes from the back of our truck.

Their large forms take down the closest two guards on bikes, while another three zip past them.

Their growls resonate through the night and their ferocity is a sight to behold.

As the chase intensifies, Regan seems to come alive.

His movements are fluid and precise as he maneuvers the vehicle, deftly avoiding obstacles.

He is a force to be reckoned with, an unstoppable wave of power and skill.

His hands work the steering wheel, each move sending us swerving away from the lethal pursuit.

“Hold on,” he says, his voice steady when he rips on the wheel. Leila squeals in the back, and I grip the handle above the door. My body slides into the turn, and Shadow’s claws screech against the metal truck bed, making my fangs ache.

Regan leans into the sudden sharp turn, and our truck skids in a spray of gravel. The first car flies past us, missing our bumper by mere inches. With a swift movement, Regan yanks the steering wheel around, sending our vehicle into a tailspin.

We come to a sudden stop, our truck now facing the oncoming motorcyclists, and one has no chance to stop in time as he hits our truck head-on and cartwheels through the air.

The bike flies over the hood and lands in a mangled heap.

Gnash snatches the downed guard just as Shadow pounces off the back.

It’s a mess of flying limbs and blood spraying everywhere.

“What are you doing?” Leila shrieks when Regan rips off his seatbelt.

“Settle down. He’ll handle it. He’s not called Wrath for nothing,” comes Theron’s unwavering voice.

Regan steps out of the truck, his face a hardened mask of fury. He extends his arm at the last second as one bike tries to veer around him, effectively clotheslining him. I cringe, expecting his arm to snap, but the bike hits the front of the truck and falls over the man lying flat on his back.

The guards on the bikes don’t stand a chance. They’re knocked off their bikes, tumbling onto the asphalt, and reduced to a pulp after Regan and his wolves are done with them.

Regan stands there, chest heaving, as his eyes blaze with an untamed force. His lips curl into a triumphant smirk. “Is that all you got?” he taunts the guards, his voice echoing in the silence as the cars pull in, and despite knocking on death’s door, Regan grins wickedly.

I can’t help but smile at the sight. Here he is, Regan, looking every bit the indomitable force he is. A god among mortals. A beacon of strength.

As the vehicles close in, Regan moves with mechanical precision. There is no fear, only focus. The raw power that radiates from him is like a storm personified.

The last of the oncoming motorcyclists freeze in their tracks, but it’s too late for them.

One after the other, Regan hurls from their bikes, their bodies contorting in the air before thudding onto the asphalt for his wolves to finish off.

Men climb out of their cars, red eyes glinting as the darkness finally swallows what is left of the light.

While they circle him, Regan stands alone, an unyielding monument amid the wreckage of bikes and bodies.

“That’s the best you’ve got?” His taunt reverberates in the aftermath, a challenge to the men approaching.

Snarls ripple through the air as the three giant wolves move to stand by him with their heads down and teeth bared.

The men attempt to attack, but they are outmatched by Regan and the wolves. Regan takes a step forward with Shadow right beside him. His eyes never leave his opponent as Gnash and Hunter circle them, creating a terrifying perimeter of teeth and claws.

He stands in the middle of it all—the man with nature’s greatest predator on one side and humanity’s worst on the other. Heaven help anyone who dares cross him now.

Shouts fill the air as he steadily raises his arms toward them, sending an eerie chill up my spine at what might come next when I realize he is calling on his wolves.

The wolves easily rip through limbs as they fend off one appalling blow after another from the attackers, snarling at anyone who dares come near.

Regan moves quickly, dodging blows intended for him before taking out assailants one by one without breaking a sweat. His movements look almost rehearsed. Without a single wasted motion or false step, he brings each of his enemies to the ground.

Soon enough, he and his wolves are the only ones left standing among the blood and carnage. The next second, Leila jumps from the truck and throws up.

“Girls...always so squeamish around blood,” Theron says, his tone almost bored.

She lifts her head and glares at him just as the driver’s door opens and Regan climbs into the truck.

The coppery smell of blood sweeps through the truck cab as he slams the door and looks at me, his chest still heaving.

Every inch of him is covered in the blood of his enemy.

Some of those men I knew, and some were more deserving of their fate than others.

“Well, I think you got ’em all,” I tell him, and he grunts when the truck creaks and shifts, signaling that the wolves have jumped into the truck bed. Leila shrieks and jumps, looking visibly shaken.

“I can’t believe I was petting those beasts,” Leila murmurs, eyes cast out the back window to the truck. “Ew, he’s eating him,” she gags. Theron twists in his seat while Regan starts the engine.

Theron huffs proudly. “Good boy,” Theron murmurs.

“Good boy? He’s eating a head.”

“He likes the sound of the skull as it pops,” Regan answers the question that wasn’t asked. Leila blinks at him, and in the tense silence, Gnash’s powerful jaws crush the skull with a loud pop.

Regan smiles.

“I’m gonna be sick again,” Leila whines.

“Not back here you’re not,” Theron snaps at her.

“Eyes ahead, Leila, ignore the gross display behind us. Popping candy. It’s only popping candy,” I tell her as Regan drives toward the mountain.