MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA

Meanwhile, Ryder stood in front of Reana's quarters, staring into the night, rather, waiting for the Intruders. Not long, he saw the dark silhouettes of figures emerging from the shadows, their movements swift and stealthy as they advanced towards the quarters with sinister intent.

The figures probably didn't take the man standing in front of Reana's quarters, in the middle of the night into account, or perhaps they simply didn't care, for they continued to creep forward, their eyes fixed on the hallway, until Ryder's low, warning growl stopped them dead in their tracks.

However, the brief hesitation was short-lived, as the figures promptly resumed their stealthy approach, but one of them suddenly broke rank, charging towards Ryder with a silver sword that glinted menacingly in the fading moonlight, poised to strike, to take Ryder's life in one swift slash.

But before the figure could close the distance, Ryder moved. The assailant's eyes widened in shock as he felt a searing pain in his chest, but his gaze was too slow to register the motion - he didn't see Ryder's movements clearly. It was as if Ryder had teleported to his side.

The figure's stunned gaze trailed down to find Ryder's hand buried deep in his chest, the motion so swift and silent that it seemed almost supernatural.

The assailant's gaze jerked back up to Ryder's, his lips twitching in a futile attempt to form words, but all that escaped was a bloody gurgle. A warm, crimson rivulet trickled down his chin, pooling at the seam of his closed lips as Ryder's hand closed around his heart.

A sickening, wet crunch filled the air as he plucked his organ, accompanied by the thick smell of blood as Ryder pulled his hand out, his fingers still clenched around the assailant's beating heart.

The body slid limply to the side with a thud, his lifeless eyes staring up at the moon, as Ryder stood tall, staring at him with a deadpan expression.

The others, their senses assaulted by the coppery stench of blood and the dull thud of a body hitting the ground, froze in unison. Their heads snapped back to rebuke their comrade for doing things to draw attention.

They expected him to be discreet, leaving little to no bloody mess or sound to avoid drawing attention.

But instead of their comrade, they locked eyes onto Ryder, and their gazes were drawn to the crimson warm liquid dripping from his hand like a gruesome waterfall. He stood before them, his features chiseled in a fierce, menacing glare, like a predator basking in the terror he inspired.

Their eyes widened in a mix of horror and shock, not just from the gruesome scene before them, but from the darkness emanating from Ryder, casting an unsettling presence that made their skin crawl. But they had no time to indulge in fear or curiosity.

Ryder's victory was pure luck due to their fallen comrade's momentary negligence, they concluded.

With a swift mental command, their leader reestablished the mind-link with his comrades, 'Front trio, take him down swiftly. We don't have time to dilly-dally.'

In perfect synchrony, the three warriors at the forefront surged towards Ryder, their silver swords slicing through the air with deadly precision, the moonlight dancing along the blades' edges as they huddled their target with ruthless intent.

They aimed for his vitals, but Ryder was faster. Like a ghost, he swept past them, leaving three dead bodies in his wake.

The onlookers were left stunned, wondering how he had achieved the impossible. One thing, however, was brutally clear: the three comrades who had been alive just moments before now lay motionless, their necks absurdly split open by Ryder's razor-sharp claws.

This was no luck!

They concluded, their minds racing with the implications. And with that, another batch of five comrades rushed forward, fueled by fury and adrenaline. But they, too, met the same swift and merciless fate, their lives extinguished in a mere handful of seconds, their bodies crumpling to the ground with eerie silence.

The leader's eyes narrowed, his irritation simmering just below the surface. They couldn't shift and fighting this person in their human form might be challenging and time wasting, unless they launched a coordinated attack. But if they devoted all their time and energy to eliminating him, they risked losing the perfect opportunity to kill the Luna.

And that woman was a force to be reckoned with - the leader couldn't afford to send anything less than his best team to handle her, lest they suffer a crushing defeat.

He swept his gaze across his remaining comrades, their numbers still much despite the unfortunate loss of their nine fallen brethren. The leader's eyes lingered on the lifeless bodies before shifting his focus back to comrades. 'Five, take half our men and attack the Luna. Be careful not to make a sound. We'll join you soon.'

One of the hooded figures nodded and stepped aside, and the group seamlessly divided, with approximately fifteen members following Five. He led his team towards the hallway, but before they could reach the corridor, they suddenly clutched their chests, their bodies contorting in agony as they dropped to the ground with a loud, blood-curdling screech that didn't last more than seconds as they went still right after.

The remaining group was shocked and horrified as they watched their comrades go still and unresponsive.

The leader snapped out of his shocked state and rushed towards the fallen group. He turned one of the bodies over, and his eyes widened in horror as he beheld the trail of blood oozing from their mouths, noses, and ears. The leader's gaze darted across the other fallen comrades, and he saw that they all suffered the same gruesome fate, their bodies bleeding as if their internal vessels had been catastrophically ruptured.

The leader's breath shook as he turned his gaze towards their enemy. But as his eyes locked onto Ryder's, he felt an icy jolt course through his veins. The leader's body began to shudder, his limbs trembling uncontrollably as if seized by some unseen force. His eyes, frozen on Ryder's, widened in terror as he reached out a trembling hand and grasped the sword of one of his fallen comrades.

His body moved with a jerky, unnatural motion, as if he was a puppet being manipulated by an invisible force. The comrades watched in horror as he raised the sword and began to advance towards them with a stiff, mechanical gait.

It was then that they realized, with a jolt of terror, that their leader was no longer in control of his own actions. They tried to move, but to their dismay, they couldn't lift their foot, nor could they utter a sound. Their minds descended into panic mode.

This is sorcery!

Witchcraft!

What type of sorcery is this!?

Three, control yourself! Don't do this!

Help me! I don't want to die!

They screamed in their minds, trying to mindlink their leader, mindlink each other, but their mindlinks were broken.

'Chunk!'