In the narrow, derelict alleyway, the air felt as though it had been ignited by the pungent synthetic pheromones; every inch of space turned viscous and lethal.
Silas Shen had never felt the world spin so violently out of control. He used one hand to grip the mottled brick wall, his nails scratching against the rough surface with a piercing sound in a desperate attempt to reclaim a shred of clarity. But the forced heat was like a serpent, slithering up his spine and coiling around his entire body, making every nerve quiver and every cell crave the familiar, orange-scented harbor standing before him.
"Professor, close your eyes. Don't look."
Hunter's voice was low, carrying a trace of gentle ruthlessness.
In Silas's blurred vision, Hunter's silhouette seemed exceptionally tall at this moment. The navy-blue suit jacket Silas had been wearing had slipped to the ground when he swayed; Hunter now wore only a white shirt, his collar hanging open and his back muscles tensed to the limit with fury.
"F*ck, just a student kid, and you really think you're a hero?" The bald man's heart skipped a beat at Hunter's savage, oppressive aura, but he quickly barked a command out of sheer embarrassment. "Go! Grab that Omega. We're hitting the jackpot tonight!"
Two thugs drew switchblades that glinted coldly in the dark, flanking Hunter with leering grins.
Silas opened his mouth, wanting to warn Hunter to be careful, but all that escaped his throat was a fragmented, tearful whimper. That sound, reaching Hunter's ears, was more lethal than any stimulant.
The last flicker of his reason was incinerated.
If the usual Hunter Huo was a "Golden Retriever" puppy, then at this moment, he was a rabid wolf whose territory had been invaded and who had smelled the blood of his lover.
As the first thug lunged, Hunter didn't waste a single movement. He sidestepped with lethal grace, his right hand clamping onto the man's wrist like an iron vise. With a stomach-turning crack, a scream tore through the alley. Hunter's eyes were as cold as quenched ice; he delivered a backhand elbow strike to the man's ribs with such force that the thug was sent flying into a pile of trash, unable to move again.
His movements were clean and decisive—the absolute martial dominance engraved in the bones of a top-tier Alpha.
But it was exactly then that Silas's condition took a turn for the worse.
"Ran... Ranran..."
Due to the intense fever, Silas's body finally gave out. He slid down the wall, his consciousness hovering on the brink of collapse. Because their temporary mark hadn't fully metabolized, Hunter's violent pheromones were a fatal temptation and the only cure all at once.
Hunter's heart jolted. His sharp offensive lagged by half a second due to that split-second distraction.
In that half-second, the remaining two thugs saw their chance and lunged like madmen. The bald man was even more sinister; realizing Silas was Hunter's Achilles' heel, he feinted a move and drove his switchblade directly toward the paralyzed Silas!
"You dare touch him!"
Hunter's eyes turned bloodshot with rage. He had no time to retreat and defend; he threw himself forward by pure instinct, using his own body as a human shield in front of Silas.
Squelch—!
The sound of a blade slicing through flesh was horrifyingly distinct in the silent night.
The bald man's blade had been aimed at Silas, but it now cut deep into the left forearm Hunter had thrown out to block. A wound over ten centimeters long gaped open instantly. Driven by the high blood pressure of a top-tier Alpha in combat, the blood sprayed like shredded red silk, instantly staining the entire white sleeve crimson. A few droplets even splashed onto Silas's paper-pale cheek.
That drop of scorching blood was like boiling oil falling into Silas's parched consciousness.
"Hunter Huo!" Silas let out a piercing, tragic cry. He reached out desperately, trying to grab the blood-soaked youth, but his fingertips could only grasp at the empty air from lack of strength.
Hunter acted as if he couldn't feel the pain. There wasn't a hint of retreat in his eyes; instead, they burned with a destructive fury. He let out a beast-like roar, his right fist gathering the power of his entire body as it crashed heavily into the bridge of the bald man's nose.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
The bald man was sent flying by the force of the punch, slamming into a distant iron gate with a deafening thud before slumping like wet clay.
The remaining lackey, his courage shattered, scrambled away on all fours and vanished into the end of the alley.
The alley fell back into a dead silence, save for Hunter's heavy, labored breathing and the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of blood dripping onto the cobblestones.
"Professor... it's over."
Hunter turned around. His face was pale from blood loss, but he didn't care about binding his wound. His uninjured right hand trembled as he cupped Silas's face.
Silas was currently in an extremely dangerous state. The effects of the inducer had fully erupted; he was burning hot, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his body. He gasped for air, his eyes unfocused, and when he saw Hunter's blood-drenched arm, tears fell without warning.
"Your... your injury..." Silas's voice trembled. He tried to tear his own sleeve to stanch the bleeding, but he didn't even have the strength to move a finger.
"It doesn't hurt, really." Looking at Silas's heartbroken expression, Hunter felt his chest ache ten thousand times more than the wound on his arm. He knew that although the hotel wasn't far, Silas's current state absolutely could not be seen by outsiders.
The scent of cold fir—now so sweet it was nearly syrupy—was frantically enticing every lurking instinct in the vicinity.
"We're going back."
Hunter gritted his teeth, fighting the dizziness from the blood loss. He knelt on one knee and carefully gathered Silas into a princess carry.
Silas, like a terrified cat, instantly curled into Hunter's embrace. Even though that embrace smelled strongly of blood, and even though Hunter's arm was still dripping red, it was the only piece of driftwood he could seize in this chaotic hell.
Hunter held him steadily—as steady as a moving mountain. Using his back to shield Silas from the sea breeze, he protected the treasure in his arms and charged out of that bloody, dark alley without looking back.