Chapter 26 - Ange, My Angel ~ Extra Story: Escape

Translator's Note:

Hello, I hope you've all been doing well.

Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

And, as I said before, if you wish to read ahead, you can head over to my Patreon to get early access to all the translated chapters.

But this man was nothing like Ian.

 

Ian's fur had been dazzling, pure white like freshly fallen snow, radiant and full of light.

 

When Ian looked at him with those steely gray-blue eyes, Ange had been frozen in place, unable to move. Ian's beauty was terrifying, yet regal, like the embodiment of some divine being.

 

But this werewolf—he was nothing like that.

 

"Why are you a mafia thug if you're a werewolf?" Ange asked, his voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

 

The man let out a scoffing laugh. "Why? Because I'm a traitor."

 

Long ago, a wolf descended into a town and attacked humans. That led to a massive wolf hunt, pushing the werewolves to the brink of extinction.

 

Among the few remaining werewolves living in hiding in Eastschist, only a handful carried the rare bloodline of white-furred wolves—among them, Ian and his father.

 

This man was one of those rare white wolves. And yet, here he was, having abandoned his pack, immersed in the world of the mafia.

 

"The white wolves have always been the rightful leaders of our kind. My family had that right too, even though the Tikaani family has held power for generations," the man spat bitterly.

 

A few years ago, the man was working for a business run by the Tikaani family.

 

"But the old man Tikaani, he said I was trouble and kicked me out," he said, venom in his voice.

 

When his family was on the brink of collapse, with his frail mother needing care, it was the Mantegna family's Don* who had taken him in.

 

[T/N: "Don" refers to the head or leader of a mafia or crime family, particularly in Italian organized crime. The term "Don" is a title of respect, often used to address the patriarch or powerful figure who controls the family.]

 

"One day, I'll make that old man regret it. I'll rise through the Mantegna ranks and bring that family to its knees," he growled.

 

—That's why people call me a traitor.

 

As he spoke, the man roughly tugged at Ange's shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and binding his hands behind his back.

 

"Ugh..."

 

Ange was forced onto his stomach, his hips lifted high as the man held him down.

 

"Hey, why don't you bond with me? I'd be gentle with you if you do," the man whispered, grabbing Ange's chin and tilting his head to meet his gaze. In response, Ange spat directly in his face.

 

"I'm bonded to Amber. I won't let you do whatever you want!"

 

"Tch, what an ungrateful brat," the man sneered, wiping his face with a scowl.

 

His sharp claws traced a line down Ange's neck.

 

"You do know that a bond can be broken, don't you?"

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