The Lycan King's Forbidden Craving - Chapter 129: Chapter 129

The second round was going really badly for Lylah. She had a broken arm and rib, one eye swollen, and she was bleeding from the cuts inflicted on her.
And no…
She hadn’t made her third strike.
The head warrior was taking her seriously now, giving her no chance or opening. He hit her every time he got the chance, and all she could do was try to protect herself—especially the crucial areas.
There was no opening and she was beginning to lose her strength.
“Lylah,” Arianna muttered under her breath, her fists clenched.
‘Hey Aria, do me a favor—don’t interfere no matter how hurt I get. This is my choice, remember?’
Recalling Lylah’s words, Arianna couldn’t help but wonder if she could endure this a second longer.
It was spinning her head so badly she felt like entering the ring and tearing the head warrior apart. A growl rumbled in her chest.
‘Ari,’
King Duncan’s voice echoed in her head, snapping her back to her senses. She looked in his direction. Those amber eyes held worry. Right—through the mark, he could feel her emotions.
‘Your sister will be fine,’ he assured her through the mind-link.
Arianna steadied her breathing and nodded. ‘Thanks, Dun.’
However, someone else was raging within.
It was expected for warriors to get hurt during spars and battles—that was normal. But the blood on her… that stirred his rage.
Lucas shut his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm his Lycan. But as he opened his eyes, Lylah got kicked by the head warrior. Lucas’s head throbbed.
It was the last round, and Lylah struggled to keep up. She was weak—everything, everywhere hurt. Yet as she fell, she got up again, barely managing to hold her stance.
Another hit slammed into her waist, sending her back to the ground. Lylah spat out blood, her vision blurry. She was reaching her limit. Passing out would mean an automatic win for the head Lord.
No. This can’t end like this. Not when she only needed one more strike.
“Yield?” she heard the head warrior’s voice as she struggled to catch her breath.
Yield?
Oh, how badly she wanted to say that word. Every fiber in her screamed, Give up.
Fucking give up!
The crowd stared at her, worried—most of them on her side now, seeing her determination.
“I guess this is over then,” the head warrior muttered.
Lylah remained on the floor unmoved, blood trickling down from her lips.
“You're still that impulsive, foolish, wolfless young girl. You don't deserve to be a warrior.” With that, his retreating footsteps echoed.
Impulsive. Foolish. Wolfless young girl?
Lylah's fist clenched as she sucked in a deep breath.
No.
Over?
This isn’t over until I land one more hit. Asshole.
The murmur of the crowd and the disbelief on their faces made Rodaric halt in his tracks. With a frown, he glanced over his shoulder and was shocked to see Lylah struggling to stand to his feet.
Murmurs rose among the crowd.
'She is not giving up?'
'Is she planning to die here? She is critically wounded.'
'Oh dear heavens.'
Lylah reached for her dislocated shoulder and twisted it back to its place with a loud groan.
“I’m… not done… you dickface,” Lylah uttered, raising her head to look at him, her eyes blazing with fury.
"I'm done until... I hit you one more fucking time!"
Rodaric brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard by the fire in her.
She summoned every ounce of strength and charged at him with a scream, ignoring the pain tearing through limbs.
Rodaric’s eyes widened as he stood alert. She jumped to attack. He charged at her mid-strike, kicking her and sending her flying across the ring. She stumbled a few times, this time hitting her head hard.
“Lylah!!!” Arianna screamed from her spot, unable to handle it anymore. She began climbing down.
Rodaric, however, suddenly frowned at the sting on his cheek. He slide a finger across the area—and was shocked to see blood.
What?
He recalled the earlier attack and realization hit him—Lylah had thrown a dagger, another one she had secretly held. She knew she’d get hit, and pulled that stunt anyway?
Rodaric stared at the girl now lying motionless on the floor, wide-eyed with shock etching in his face.
The host saw the cut and gasped.
“She won!” He turned to the audience and screamed. “The girl won! She made her third strike!!”
The crowd immediately erupted in cheers, some of the nobles rose to their feet to applaud. Arianna didn’t hear any of it. She kept running to her sister.
But someone else leapt, landing right beside Lylah. Shock rippled through the air as they watched Beta Lucas rush toward the girl on the floor.
Arianna reached her, but Lucas scooped her into his arms first. The deep wound on the side of Lylah’s head was bleeding.
“Lylah,” Arianna fell on her knees, tears streaming down her face.
Lylah forced her eyes open just enough to meet the Grand Lord’s worried gaze.
“D…did… I win?” she croaked, glancing at her sister too, who was already in tears, guilt lingering in her silver eyes.
“Yes, you landed your third strike. You won, little wolf,” Lucas' voice slightly trembled. Her gaze returned to him.
His voice quieter. “I’m never letting you do anything this crazy again.”
Lylah’s bloody lips curled into a small smile.
“I… told… you I’d win…” she breathed before her eyes rolled back to its socket, slipping into unconsciousness.
Lucas didn’t waste a second. He carried her in a bridal hold, her head resting against his chest. Then he barked at the nearby warrior:
“Bring the fucking healers now!”
His voice softened as he returned his gaze to her.
"Hang on little wolf. Hang on."