Alpha's mate is a male?!?-Chapter 161: . Uncontrollable.

It’s been hours of searching, but neither the wolves nor the humans have catch the New Wolf in town-- Blake.

Not that they can’t see her, they can, but getting hold of her is the problem.

Blake moves like a storm given form, tearing through the city with nothing but destruction in her wake.

Glass shatters where she passes, streetlights flicker and burst, the pavement cracks beneath her claws.

Her massive form, shifting between something beastly and something unrecognizable, blurs in the dim glow of the emergency lights flashing throughout the city.

She is neither hiding nor stopping.

She wants to be seen.

She wants to tear this world apart. That’s what feels right to her for now.

Her breath comes in ragged, animalistic snarls, her thoughts fragmented, broken by the overwhelming hunger for devastation.

There is no control, no sense of self, only the primal need to destroy everything in her path.

Keep running. Keep breaking. Keep tearing it all down.

Somewhere in the distance, sirens wail.

They are coming.

But they will not stop her.

Across the city, the tension is suffocating.

The police have locked down the streets, setting up barriers, but deep down, they know, they are dealing with something far beyond their control.

The reports flooding in are conflicting, confused. Some claim it’s a wild animal, others whisper about a creature straight out of nightmares.

Surveillance cameras catch glimpses of her. a blurred, shifting shape, neither human nor beast.

It moves too fast, too erratically, smashing through obstacles like they are nothing. The footage is terrifyingly unclear, but one thing is certain.

It is powerful.

And it is not stopping.

The strongest wolves and alphas have been tracking her movements, but even they are struggling.

The scent trail is erratic, leading them in circles before disappearing entirely.

Her energy is unstable, her presence flickering in and out like she is slipping between reality itself.

Even seasoned trackers grow frustrated, their wolves restless beneath their skin.

"She’s not thinking. She’s just destroying," one of them mutters, "We can’t predict her next move because she doesn’t have one."

Another growls low in his throat. "Then we find her the hard way."

The wolves spread out, their eyes glowing in the dark, scanning every ruined street and alleyway.

But she is always just out of reach.

On the other hand,

The searchlights of a police helicopter sweep over a destroyed intersection.

Then, they catch movement.

A low, vibrating snarl rumbles through the air before a shadow leaps, too high, too fast, too inhuman.

The moment her feet hit the cracked pavement, Blake moves again, faster, wilder.

She doesn’t stop to think. She doesn’t need to. Instinct drives her, an untamed force roaring through her veins, pulling her away from the city, away from the suffocating walls and flickering lights.

The towering buildings blur as she pushes herself harder, her form shifting erratically, caught between shapes that should not exist.

Streetlights flicker as she passes, the air around her pulsing with raw, uncontrolled energy.

Behind her, the city still trembles.

The police remain on high alert, their sirens howling in the distance, their searchlights cutting through the night.

They move like blind men chasing a shadow, unable to grasp what they are dealing with.

The wolves, on the other hand, know.

They are closing in, their senses locked onto the unstable force tearing through the night.

Every alpha, every hunter, every warrior worth their name has spread out, tracking her erratic path. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

She is leaving destruction in her wake, but she is also moving toward something- the forest.

°°

Meanwhile,,

The night is heavy with tension, the air thick with the lingering scent of blood and death.

The facility is eerily silent now, stripped of life except for the red stains smeared across its floors and walls.

Adele Crawford stands outside, watching as the last body is loaded into the van. Her husband’s body is among them.

She does not cry.

Instead, she pulls her coat tighter around herself, feeling the cold seep into her bones.

The forensic team has done their job well, efficient, discreet, asking no unnecessary questions.

They assume she is nothing more than a grieving widow, shaken but holding herself together.

She plays the part flawlessly.

When the authorities press her for details, she sits in their makeshift office, pen gliding smoothly over paper as she writes her statement.

"The attack was sudden. A creature, large, fast, monstrous. It tore through the staff like paper. There was nothing I could do. I barely escaped."

She signs the paper with a steady hand, pretending not to notice the way the officer’s fingers tremble as he takes it from her.

They are afraid.

And fear makes people easy to manipulate.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Crawford," the officer says, offering her a sympathetic nod.

Adele forces a tight, exhausted smile. "If you find anything... please, let me know."

They assure her they will.

She already knows they won’t.

She leaves the station quietly, slipping into her car, driving away from the chaos as if heading home.

But she does not go home.

She turns the car down an unmarked road, the headlights slicing through the darkness as she makes her way back to the lab.

Alone.

No one follows her. No one suspects her.

By the time she steps back inside the abandoned facility, the air is stale, the metallic tang of blood still clinging to the walls.

It is as she left it, untouched, undisturbed.

Except for one thing.

The examination bed.

She moves toward it with slow, deliberate steps, her heels clicking softly against the tile.

The restraints are torn apart. The sheets are stained deep red.

And in the center of it all...

blood.

Adele exhales through her nose, removing a small vial and a dropper from her coat pocket.

She has done this before, collected samples, studied anomalies. But never like this. Never with her own daughter.

She crouches beside the bed, dipping the dropper into the thick red liquid, transferring it carefully into the vial.

The blood should have begun drying by now.

It hasn’t.

Her fingers tighten around the glass, a slow realization creeping into her mind.

This is not normal. This is not human.

She secures the vial with a sharp snap of the lid, slipping it into her pocket.

Blake was never like this.

She was angry. Rebellious. Uncontrollable at times. But she was still her daughter.

And now?

Now, Adele isn’t sure what she is.

She stands up, smoothing her coat, her expression unreadable.

She has to know what her daughter has become.