The Betrayed Princess Rising (Lylah and Ezra) novel Chapter 116

A guttural snarl tore through the ward.

‘Argh! You piece of shit! How dare you!” Alexander roared, his voice shaking the very walls.

He thrashed violently, trying to wrench himself free, but Yorik had already locked him down with the brutal efficiency of a seasoned fighter. The old wolf had wrapped his legs around Alexander’s neck, cutting off his air with a chokehold that spoke of instinct and long–forgotten battlefields.

‘You’re nothing but a pup playing in a playground,” Yorik rasped, his eyes blazed with feral fury, the wolf within them flashing through the frailty of his body–old, wounded, but far from dead. “What did you hink you were doing, huh?” His grip tightened. “You tried to kill me!”

‘N–no-”

Alexander’s protest strangled in his throat as the pressure tightened.

Yorik, please stop!” Gwyn cried out, panic cracking her voice.

The old wolf’s gaze swept across the room like a predator assessing a threat. Then it halted.

On Lylah.

The fury in his eyes faltered.

Something softer–something almost reverent–flickered there. “You…”

His grip slackened.

Alexander seized the chance instantly, twisting free and scrambling to his feet.

He retreated behind Gwyn with hurried steps that did little to hide the arrogance hardening his face.

“Is that stray rabid or something?” he spat. “Why the hell did he attack me?”

Gwyn shook her head quickly. “No, he isn’t. But… Yorik’s wolf is aggressive. It will take over if he feels threatened. His wolf was always stronger than his human side–even after the illness.”

She paused, a realization slowly dawning across her face.

“Yorik used to say he was from Whitepine…” she murmured. “That he fought beside his Alpha and Commander Ivar. He claimed he slaughtered dozens of rogue tribes in his youth…”

Alexander’s eyes flicked sharply to the frail old man, then back to Gwyn.

Whitepine?

And beside Ivar–the war god of Vedanth?

His gaze darkened with sudden understanding.

That half–mad, sickly stray…

“He was a warrior,” Alexander said hoarsely.

In the next second, his hand shot out, fisting Gwyn’s collar.

‘Then why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he snarled. “You wanted to humiliate me, didn’t you?!”

‘N–no.” Gwyn stammered, startled. “We never believed it! Yorik always rambled about his past–we hought it was just the illness talking…”

Their argument faded into the background.

Because Yorik was no longer looking at them.

Understanding struck her like a sudden bolt of lightning.

A comrade of her parents.

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