CHAPTER 278: CHAPTER 278 CHASE

Because of this, Zion crouched lower into the bushes, hiding himself completely. He even closed his eyes, relying not on sight but on his other senses, trying to feel his surroundings. His breaths grew shallow, his heartbeat steadying until it was as calm and still as water.

"What’s this? Giving me attitude now?" Greg sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Ha! Just because you’re the master’s favorite, you think you’re above me? Not a chance. You’re nothing but a mutt—fetching bones when the master tells you to. That’s all you’ll ever be, understand? Mutt!" He spat harshly to the side, venting all his anger on the gray wolf.

Yet the gray wolf showed no reaction, not even a flicker of emotion. His expression remained cold and unreadable, golden eyes narrowed in focus as he silently scanned the surroundings, every muscle taut with vigilance.

But Greg grew furious at being ignored, treated as if he were nothing more than empty air by the gray wolf. His rage boiled over, and he lashed out, raising his foot to kick the wolf in the stomach.

Before the blow could land, the gray wolf’s hand shot up, catching Greg’s ankle with unerring precision, without even glancing his way. His senses were that sharp.

Once he confirmed there was no threat lurking nearby, the wolf finally turned his gaze on Greg. His voice was calm but edged with steel.

"Stop calling me ’mutt’ this and that. I have a name. Chase."

"Ha! Just because the master gave you a name, you think you’re something great now?" Greg sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

Chase’s eyes flickered with a subdued anger. In truth, he despised Greg. The man’s arrogance was unbearable, always looking down on others he deemed beneath him, clinging to the pride of once being the Beta of the Midnight River Pack. Even now, despite his downfall and disgrace, Greg still carried himself as if the pack’s glory was his own.

Yet the bitter truth was obvious: Greg resented the very people of the Midnight River Pack. He especially loathed Zion, who had branded him a traitor. Greg burned with the need to prove Zion wrong, to show he could carve out a better life without the pack. That was why he betrayed them, handing over every secret he knew to his new master.

But betrayal did not make him clever. Claire had deceived them all; she was never the royal princess as he had believed. That supposed trump card had turned to dust in his hands. Fortunately for him, fate dealt another hand: Zion himself was revealed to be the true princess’s fated mate. Because of that, Greg still had some worth in his master’s eyes.

The only reason Greg was still alive was because of his lingering usefulness. To Chase, he was nothing but dead weight, but perhaps their master had seen something in Greg that no one else could. Whatever it was, Chase could not question the master’s decision.

So, he endured. He let Greg strut about, arrogant and haughty, pretending his past glory still mattered. But Chase had his limits, and Greg kept testing them. One day, if he pushed too far, Chase would not hesitate to silence him permanently.

Greg’s instincts screamed danger, his hair standing on end as he yanked his leg back and glared at Chase. Outwardly, he tried to look defiant, but deep down, fear gnawed at him. Chase wasn’t just anyone; he was their master’s personal killing machine.

The only reason Greg had dragged Chase along was to deal with Zion and Maxwell, back when they forced Addison’s caravan into the forbidden forest.

But Chase hadn’t lifted a finger; instead, he coldly ordered their death warriors to serve as a barricade, herding the caravan according to Greg’s plan. At the time, Greg hadn’t dared to complain; his plan had worked, or so he thought.

Who would have imagined that damned Addison would still manage to survive? Worse, they hadn’t found a single trace of the dark fairies in that place. The failure burned in Greg’s chest like acid. His mission was in shambles, and now, the only thing left was to cling to their next move.

Catching the hidden warning in Chase’s eyes, Greg quickly turned his back and snapped, "You’d better make sure Plan B works. Don’t blame me if I report everything to Master. I wasn’t the one responsible for carrying it out—you were. I only make the plans. And my plan succeeded..." His voice trailed into a bitter excuse, each word dripping with his attempt to dodge responsibility.

Chase saw right through it. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding as he watched Greg vanish into the shadows of the forest with a handful of rogues guarding him. That left Chase behind with the rest, his frustration simmering.

Almost unconsciously, his hand rose to his chest, pressing against the mark burned into his skin, the tattoo that branded him as nothing more than a slave. A reminder he could never escape their master, no matter how much he longed to.

Chase ground his molars, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Spread out. Check the area and look for any openings. We’ll make our move tomorrow night." His voice was cold and commanding, enough to scatter the rogues lingering around him.

Once their footsteps faded into the distance, the mask slipped. Left in silence, Chase’s posture sagged, his expression carved with loneliness. A flicker of defiance burned in his eyes, a quiet rebellion buried beneath the weight of his servitude.

Meanwhile, Zion, who had overheard everything, was left confused. This trip felt useless; he hadn’t gathered any solid information about their next move, aside from Greg dumping all responsibility onto the gray wolf named Chase.

The lack of details only confirmed that Chase wasn’t foolish enough to openly discuss their plans where someone might be listening. Instead, they deliberately spoke in vague terms, clearly guarding against skilled eavesdroppers like him.

Because of that, Zion didn’t know whether to applaud their caution or be angry at the wasted time. He had wanted to strike Greg down long ago, but restrained himself when both Greg and Chase kept mentioning a mysterious "master."

Zion’s mind churned. ’Was this master an Alpha from another pack, or part of the Dark Witch faction?’ Deep down, he suspected it was the latter.

Zion only needed to wait for Chase to leave before slipping away himself, but Chase showed no sign of moving, which gnawed at Zion’s patience. He briefly considered ambushing him, but then felt Chase’s gaze lock directly onto his hiding spot.

Even with his eyes closed, attuning himself to his surroundings, Zion could sense the sharp weight of that stare, making his brows knit together.

Chase didn’t look away. It would have been foolish for Zion to assume he hadn’t been discovered, especially when his killing intent had slipped out earlier. Chase must have sensed him long ago.

Yet, instead of alerting Greg or the others, he remained silent. That alone told Zion this wolf’s thoughts weren’t aligned with theirs, and the realization stirred his intrigue.

Since concealment was pointless now, Zion opened his eyes. Twin golden orbs gleamed in the darkness, predatory and cold, his figure still cloaked in shadow, like a beast waiting to strike. But Chase didn’t flinch. He held Zion’s gaze steadily before finally speaking.