Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 196

Third person POV

The ground was soaked with blood, the air thick with the stench of iron and smoke. The howls of wolves carried across the battlefield, echoing like thunder against the broken night sky. Rogues swarmed in countless numbers, their snarls sharp and ruthless as they launched themselves against the line of Enzo’s warriors. Every strike was savage, every claw stained with death.

But they weren’t prepared for what came next.

A sudden horn blew from the distance, deep and commanding, and the warriors on the field froze for just a moment before the sound was drowned out by the thunder of paws and feet. A new force surged into view—an army clad in their own crest, led by none other than Alpha Bryan. His presence was unmistakable, towering and fierce, his wolf blazing with restrained fury. His beta Henry was close at his side, his eyes already assessing weak points and pressing their men into position.

The arrival was like a storm breaking through the night. Bryan’s army joined the fray without hesitation, their momentum driving through the rogues with lethal precision.

“Hold the line!” Bryan roared, his voice carrying with authority across the chaos. His wolf spirit surged beneath his skin, claws lengthening as he tore through a rogue that lunged for him. The beast’s head hit the dirt before its body crumbled lifeless. Bryan wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and charged again.

Enzo spotted him from across the field, his own wolf drenched in gore, eyes burning with a fury that matched the carnage. Atlas and Kael were not far from him, the three brothers carving through enemies like a tide of destruction. And now Bryan had come—not as a rival, not as an enemy, but as a reluctant ally in the face of collapse.

The battlefield became a storm of flesh, fur, and steel. The rogues pressed in greater numbers, their coordination unnatural, almost as though something darker was driving them. They swarmed bridges, towers, and the very walls of the pack lands, testing every defense.

Kael ripped a rogue’s chest open with his bare claws, tossing the lifeless body aside. His breaths came heavy, but his grin was feral. “About time Bryan got here,” he growled, voice edged with both relief and sarcasm.

“Focus!” Enzo barked, tearing the throat out of another. His rage was not dulled, but his eyes flicked briefly toward Bryan as he cut his way through. “If he’s smart, he’ll keep his men disciplined.”

Atlas’s wolf crashed into three rogues at once, sending them sprawling before he sank his teeth into the leader of the small cluster, crunching bone like dry wood. He spat the carcass aside, muzzle drenched in blood. “Discipline or not, we’ll see if Bryan survives the night,” he muttered grimly.

And then the fighting swallowed their words once more.

Across the battlefield, Bryan and Henry were a deadly pair. Bryan fought like a man possessed, every movement fueled by the desperation of knowing his own pack was in danger of crumbling if Enzo’s fell. His claws cut through fur and sinew, his strength amplified by sheer will. Beside him, Henry moved like shadow and steel, his blades flashing in the dim light, striking down rogues before they could flank his Alpha.

They moved together seamlessly, as though every strike was rehearsed, though in truth it was instinct, honed from years of fighting side by side. Henry called out orders to the soldiers, redirecting small clusters to hold weak points where Enzo’s warriors were overwhelmed.

And in the middle of the chaos, a quieter war was being fought.

Lisa moved through the field of broken bodies, her hands glowing faintly with healing light. Her robes were already torn and dirtied with blood—most not her own. Her powers seeped into the wounded warriors one by one, knitting flesh, pushing poison and infection from their veins, forcing broken bones to realign. Each time she did, she gasped, her body flinching as though the pain transferred into her own flesh. She smiled faintly to each soldier, whispering encouragement, but behind her soft tone, she coughed—dry, ragged coughs that left streaks of blood on her palm.

“Stay alive… please, stay alive,” she whispered over one soldier whose stomach had been ripped open. She pressed her hands firmly to the wound, and as his body knit closed, her own shoulders convulsed, pain ripping through her abdomen. She clenched her teeth and refused to scream.

She couldn’t let them see.

To the warriors she touched, she was their miracle—glorious, divine, untouchable. But in truth, every soul she saved scraped away another fragment of her own life. Her skin grew paler with each passing moment, her breaths shorter, but she did not stop.

“Lisa, rest!” Calla pleaded, rushing to her side as she saw her nearly collapse over a healed soldier. “You’re bleeding again, you can’t—”

“I said I’m fine,” Lisa cut her off sharply, her voice hoarse but determined. She pushed herself back up and staggered toward another soldier screaming on the ground. His leg was mangled beyond recognition, and she fell to her knees beside him. “Hold still,” she whispered, ignoring her own dizziness. “I’ll fix this.”

And she did. Even as her nose bled freely, even as her chest burned with agony, she forced her power into him. The man’s sobs turned to gasps of relief as flesh regrew, as tendons reformed. Lisa collapsed against him for a second, trembling violently, before pulling herself back upright.

On the other side of the battle, Bryan caught sight of her—blood smeared across her face, yet still kneeling over soldier after soldier, healing them as if she carried infinite strength. His chest tightened at the sight, but there was no time to linger. Another rogue lunged, and Bryan spun, claws flashing as he ripped it apart.

The tide of battle was brutal. Wolves clashed against wolves, the sound of tearing flesh and splintering bones painting the night in horror.

Enzo and Bryan found themselves back-to-back at one point, their animosity buried under the necessity of survival. Enzo’s wolf snapped the neck of one rogue while Bryan gutted another, their movements bloody and precise. For a heartbeat, they shared a glance—an unspoken acknowledgment that for tonight, they fought together.

Atlas’s roar shook the battlefield as he launched himself at a massive rogue Alpha, the two colliding with bone-cracking force. The ground itself quaked under their weight as Atlas tore fur and flesh in savage rhythm. Kael followed suit, intercepting a cluster of rogues that tried to swarm Enzo, his claws tearing through them like a hurricane.

Still, for every rogue slain, more pressed forward. The battle stretched endlessly, the ground littered with bodies, rivers of blood carving paths in the dirt.

Lisa’s coughs grew harsher, blood staining her lips as she forced herself to continue. Calla tried to steady her, but Lisa shoved her away. “They need me,” she whispered, voice cracking, her eyes glowing faintly with the last reserves of her strength. “If I stop, more die.”

She staggered again, knees buckling, but still crawled to another fallen man. Her hands trembled violently as she laid them on his wounds, her body convulsing as she took in his agony. She swallowed it down, forced it into herself, and kept going.

No one noticed how much of herself she was giving away. No one noticed the silent war she was losing with every passing second.

But without her, the field would have collapsed long ago.

The warriors fought with renewed vigor, emboldened by her unseen sacrifice, while the Alphas and their betas carved paths of destruction through the rogues.

The night became endless chaos, but the battle was far from finished.