Chapter 29 - 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.

"Let go of me, you bastard!"

 

The man snarled, wrapping his arms around Ange's body and hoisting him up, trying to shake him off.

 

"Stop it! Traitor!" Amber's shout echoed through the room, but before his voice could reach, Ange's body was hurled through the air and slammed against the cold floor.

 

"Ange!" Amber cried, rushing toward him.

 

Ange raised a weak hand to stop him. "I'm fine... I'm fine... just... hurry..."

 

—Hurry and get away from here.

 

His head throbbed, and his vision blurred, but through the haze, he could see Amber—his beautiful black wolf—leap into the air with fierce determination.

 

"...Amber..." Ange whispered.

 

The man, thrown off balance after tossing Ange, stumbled backward, his foot catching on the bed frame. At that moment, the sleek black wolf charged forward, much smaller than the man's white wolf form but filled with relentless power.

 

Amber's jaws opened wide, his sharp teeth sinking deep into the man's shoulder.

 

Both wolves, now fully transformed, clashed violently.

 

Amber's sharp teeth dug into the dense muscle hidden beneath the white wolf's thick fur, locking the two in a tense standstill.

 

Blood slowly soaked through the white wolf's fur, staining it with crimson.

 

Low, guttural growls reverberated through the room as the wolves snarled, their breath labored from exertion.

 

Ange lay motionless against the wall, unable to move, barely able to breathe as the oppressive tension swallowed the space around them.

 

Amber's jaws tightened with determination, refusing to let go. The white wolf endured the searing pain, biding his time, searching for a moment to escape.

 

Even the slightest movement might shatter the fragile balance of this deadly confrontation, and Ange knew that nothing good would come of it.

 

But that fragile equilibrium didn't last long.

 

Using its larger frame, the white wolf violently shook its body from side to side, causing deep rips in the bedsheets beneath them and sending feathers from the torn pillows flying through the room.

 

Even from afar, Ange could see Amber's legs beginning to falter under the pressure. The difference in size was undeniable.

 

Unable to maintain his hold, Amber finally released the white wolf and leapt backward, retreating to put distance between them.

 

But the white wolf was quick to pounce again, immediately closing in on Amber.

 

In the confined space of the room, the two wolves viciously bit at each other, only to pull away and strike again. Chairs and tables were overturned, and deep claw marks were etched into the floor.

 

Their ragged breathing filled the air, exhaustion creeping into their movements. Yet neither could afford to back down, neither could concede.

 

Amber was steadily losing ground. The sheer difference in size put him at an increasing disadvantage.

 

Ange's gaze drifted to the bed.

 

Amidst the chaos of the torn and disheveled sheets, the gleam of the gun—the one the man had been holding earlier—caught his eye.

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