Chapter 30 - 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.

As Amber aimed for the man's throat, the traitor deliberately exposed his neck, trying to lure Amber in close, planning to sink his own fangs into Amber's unguarded neck.

 

But Amber was too quick. He dodged, slipping behind the traitor, their positions shifting in a flurry of movement as they clashed, biting and grappling fiercely once more.

 

Ange, seeing the white wolf turn its back toward him, seized his chance. Silently, he crawled across the floor, inching closer to the bed.

 

His body, still weighed down with the fatigue of two days spent locked in the throes of passion, felt unbearably heavy. Every movement sent sharp pain radiating through him, the result of being harshly slammed to the floor earlier.

 

But even so—if Amber were to fall...

 

—Then strike first, before you're the one struck down.

 

The man's harsh words echoed in Ange's mind.

 

That voice had been filled with pure, unbridled hatred. All of the man's anger, his fury toward the Tikaani family, was now solely focused on Amber.

 

If something were to happen to Amber… Just the thought of it tore at Ange, as if his heart would shatter and his very existence would fade away.

 

It wasn't just about never seeing him again—Ange couldn't imagine a world where Amber no longer existed. In a world like that, Ange would have no reason left to live.

 

He had experienced the joy and heartbreak of finding his fated mate. The thought of losing him was unbearable.

 

Determined, Ange crawled onto the bed, his hand reaching for the gun gleaming beneath the sheets.

 

With a dive, he grasped the cold metal, forgetting both the heaviness of his body and the pain searing through his bones.

 

"Don't move!"

 

Ange's voice cut through the room like a blade, sharp and commanding. The small space was filled with the echo of his words.

 

The two wolves froze at the sound, surprised by the deep, powerful voice that didn't match Ange's delicate frame.

 

Still holding the gun, Ange descended from the bed, walking slowly and deliberately toward the traitor, his aim steady.

 

"Hey, that's not a toy," the traitor sneered, though he instinctively took a step back, warily eyeing Ange.

 

"I know," Ange replied, his voice calm.

 

Step by step, he backed the white wolf into the corner of the room, his hand steady on the gun as he pulled back the slide.

 

"Do you think you can really pull the trigger? Do you think you can kill me?" the traitor taunted, his tone mocking, though fear flickered in his eyes.

 

"I can," Ange said quietly.

 

Despite his cruel words, the traitor's confidence faltered. Slowly, his body began to shift, reverting from his wolf form to that of a man.

 

Ange now stood before him, gripping the gun tightly with both hands. He released the safety, his finger resting on the trigger.

 

Growing up in Eastschist, a crime-ridden area near downtown, it was common for children to be taught how to handle guns for self-defense.

 

But now, holding a real one for the first time, Ange felt its overwhelming weight. It was more than just its physical heaviness—this tool had the power to take a life.

 

—But I have to kill this man.

 

His mind knew it, but his body betrayed him. His arms trembled violently as he aimed the gun, unable to steady his shaking.

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