Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 354: The Alpha Returns

Face-to-face, Kaan stood no chance against Thessara. But when it came to possession—when Thessara tried to seize control of Kaan’s body—the balance shifted.

Naturally, the body’s true owner held the advantage. That was simply how the universe worked. Possessing a mortal was forbidden, and the laws of existence bent to protect the rightful soul, tipping the scales in favor of the one who belonged.

Thessara was expelled from Kaan’s body, only to hurl herself back in before she could drift too far. But she was ejected again. And again. It became a relentless tug-of-war—neither willing to yield.

To any mortal passing by, the spectacle would’ve looked absurd: Kaan alone, flailing as if caught in some deranged dance. But the reality was far more bizarre. Thessara’s ghostly form kept bursting from Kaan’s flesh, only to force herself back inside. Each intrusion drained her; each expulsion sapped him.

Despite the toll, neither would stop. Pride kept them locked in this grisly stalemate. But Thessara was already unraveling, her essence fraying with pain. Desperate, she burned through the last of her strength, determined to survive by feeding on Kaan the emperor—her chosen puppet.

Kaan, on the other hand, was spent. He had no strength left to defend himself. The constant struggle had hollowed him out. And when Thessara unleashed her full power, he was utterly defenseless.

The result was catastrophic.

Kaan’s body couldn’t contain her. He was unprepared, his vessel unfortified. Thessara no longer held back. Her power surged through him like wildfire, destroying him from the inside out.

A blinding light exploded from within him as his body convulsed, as if something ancient and furious was tearing its way free. It was Thessara’s power, penetrating deep into Kaan’s body. Kaan’s scream ripped through the air, echoing through the fractured remnants of the third floor.

The floor gave way.

Light poured from Kaan as he plummeted with the rubble. His scream cut off the moment the light extinguished. Silence followed. Dust settled.

And when it did, there was nothing left to see.

Kaan’s body, or whatever remained, was buried beneath the ruin.

***

Puck and Thorin rejoined the group they had arrived with—only to be met with surprise. New faces had joined them but not unfamiliar ones.

"Zane!" Thorin exclaimed as soon as he laid eyes on the werewolf elder.

Zane longed to stop, embrace Thorin, and recount how he’d come to be there. But the moment wouldn’t allow it. He was still locked in combat. Asvaldur’s vampires, some freed from the nightmare spell and others still trapped in its grip, were attacking with renewed fury.

Thorin glanced down at Riona, still in his arms. She stirred slightly, her face twisted in a grimace. He knew she was fighting her own battle within, deep inside the dream.

Then his gaze shifted to the chaos unfolding near the castle. The Wintertooth pack had come to their aid, along with Warren and the rest of his knights.

Thorin was their Alpha.

To stand idle now would be to forsake his duty—to abandon the pack he had sworn to protect. But if he stepped onto the battlefield, Riona would be left vulnerable and unguarded.

He was torn between two vows.

"Go. I’ll keep her safe," Puck said firmly. He had already laid Florian’s body gently on the ground, propping him against a large chunk of fallen wall. More debris was stacked around him, which served as makeshift barriers forming a crude but effective shield.

Thorin gave a silent nod and carefully handed Riona over. Puck placed her beside her brother, arranging her with care. Both of them stirred in place, bodies twitching, expressions twisted in distress. Caught in the same nightmare, no doubt.

Puck glanced back at Thorin and caught the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. It wasn’t a matter of trust—Thorin trusted Puck. He trusted Riona even more. He believed she would overcome whatever darkness gripped her mind, and that she could bring Florian back with her.

But doubt whispered louder in moments like this. A second’s distraction could mean losing everything.

"I know you’re worried," Puck said gently, stepping forward. "But we’ll be alright. The pack needs its Alpha now more than ever. They need to see you out there—fighting. They need hope."

His voice was steady. "Give them that."

That was all Thorin needed.

With resolve hardening in his chest, the Alpha cast one last glance at Riona. I’ll be back, he swore silently. Nothing will touch you. Not while I still draw breath.

Then he turned.

A low growl rumbled from deep within him as his muscles tensed, bones shifting. He clenched his fists, and with a roar that echoed across the battlefield, his body expanded, limbs thickening, claws extending. The wild beast within was no longer restrained.

The Alpha had arrived.

He launched into the air, landing with a thunderous crash beside Zane. The elder gave him a glance—eyes gleaming with pride—but Thorin didn’t look back. His focus was absolute.

He tore through the nearest vampires, his claws a blur of silver fury, cutting down anything that dared get close.

"It’s Thorin!"

"Thorin is here!"

"Our Alpha fights with us!"

His presence alone sent a surge through the werewolf ranks. Those who had been faltering, their strength waning, now rose with renewed purpose. Their Alpha was fighting, and with him came hope.

As Thorin tore through the tide of enemies, familiar faces began to emerge in the chaos.

The vampires from his own group were under siege, not just by Asvaldur’s forces, but also by the poisonous mist that clung to the air like a curse. Some had been repossessed multiple times, their minds hijacked again and again.

He saw elders and Nightwarden knights reeling, staggering mid-fight, clutching their heads, vomiting from the mist’s assault. But that, at least, was expected.

What wasn’t expected was something far more unsettling.

Some vampires appeared trapped between worlds, caught in a waking nightmare. Their eyes were glazed with dream-haze, movements sluggish and haunted. Yet somehow, they retained just enough awareness to control their bodies. Puppets pulling their own strings.

Sir Kai stood among them, his eyes flickering between white and gray, shifting like a stormy sky. But even when his gaze turned fully white, he didn’t falter. His jaw was clenched tight, face contorted in pain, but still he fought.

His blade moved with precision, never once striking an ally. He had refused to use his vampiric powers from the moment he realized the mist could manipulate him, choosing discipline over instinct to protect those around him.

Not far from him, Sir Orlo was on the edge of breaking. He clawed at his scalp, yanking at his own hair in a desperate effort to anchor himself. Madness nipped at the edges of his mind, but still he held the line, refusing to surrender to the nightmare pulling at his sanity.

And then, there was Lisbeth.

Tears streamed down her face, cutting paths through the grime of blood and ash. She sobbed openly, her body wracked with grief, but she never stopped moving. She screamed, she roared, her voice raw with anguish. Her face was soaked in sweat, blood, and sorrow, but her resolve burned through it all.

The princess fought to fulfill her duty. To protect those who still lived. To honor those who had fallen. And to avenge the death of her father.