Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 148: Caught

The assassin’s blood was on Riven’s claws. His breathing came in rapid pants, but he held still, heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline. It would be so easy to sink his claws in and kill him, but he stopped.

His body screamed to finish it, to protect himself, to end the threat, but something in him, something still soft and human, resisted the kill.

The man moved slightly, a twitch of fingers toward a hidden blade.

Riven’s green eyes narrowed—

And then a blur of motion shot past him.

Troy.

The assistant didn’t speak as he plunged his dagger into the assassin’s throat, clean and sure. There was no hesitation in his hands, no wavering in his gaze. His usual calm was gone, replaced by the fierce glare of someone protecting something important.

The body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

Troy turned, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "You can’t hesitate," he said quietly, not judgmental, just... Tired.

Before Riven could shift back or respond, a thunderous crash of movement echoed through the market square. From every alley and rooftop, more figures emerged—more than a dozen, masked and armed, spilling out like a tide.

Troy stepped back instinctively, blade raised. The two knights were already fighting off attackers elsewhere, steel flashing under the flickering light of scattered lanterns.

And then—

A sound split the air.

A howl.

It rolled through the square like a storm. Low, deep, commanding. It didn’t just echo off the walls—it shook them. It thundered through bone and soul, striking some invisible core inside each person.

The assassins dropped to their knees.

Literally dropped—like their bodies no longer belonged to them.

Even Troy’s stance faltered for a second. The two knights froze mid-swing and collapsed to one knee, wide-eyed and gasping. The assassins clawed at their ears, their mouths open in soundless agony.

It was like their bodies had betrayed them, obeying the Alpha’s will before their minds could comprehend what was happening.

Only Riven remained on his feet.

The wolf’s eyes widened as his gaze turned toward the far end of the square.

A white wolf stood there, tall and gleaming like a phantom of the moonlight.

Massive. Majestic. Impossibly still.

The Alpha.

The air itself bowed to his presence. His fur shone like snow in under the streetlights.

Riven’s tail wagged once, tentatively.

Then he ran.

He dashed across the cobblestones, unbothered by the groaning bodies still pinned to the ground. His sleek, black form weaved between frozen assassins, wounded knights, and his own scattered blood.

He stopped in front of the white wolf and tilted his head up.

Big, round, pitiful green eyes.

His ears folded slightly. His tail gave a hopeful flick.

Then he whimpered, dramatically, and nudged the larger wolf’s chest with his snout.

Did you see that?! I got hurt! Comfort me, Ronan!

He didn’t need to speak. His eyes said it all.

He was adorable.

Bloody, yes. Injured, definitely. But still painfully adorable.

The great white wolf—Ronan—lowered his head and gently nuzzled the ebony-furred creature in front of him. His large frame curled around Riven protectively, as though shielding him from the bloodstained world.

Riven licked his jaw once, childishly, then let himself slump forward, half-sitting, half-sprawled. His tail flicked contentedly, but his side still throbbed. The pain was real.

But since Ronan was here, he was going to get avenged!

Around them, no one dared move. They couldn’t, it was like a spell cast over them.

Every attacker remained on their knees, eyes wide in terror or awe. It was more than fear—it was submission. The Alpha had called, and their wolves answered, whether they wanted to or not.

They were not told that the Alpha would be here!

Ronan’s howl had reminded them of the ancient truth: they were his subjects, they could die if he simply wished it.

And they had forgotten that.

He’d given them freedom. He’d ruled gently. Perhaps too gently.

But now...

Now, the Alpha had returned.

Ronan stepped forward slowly, dislodging Riven just a little as he rose to his full, towering height. His eyes swept the crowd. The white wolf didn’t snarl, didn’t growl. He didn’t need to.

Silence spoke for him.

Each assassin trembled as though his very gaze could end them.

A single nod from Ronan—and the knights moved again. Troy straightened, as if the weight of the howl had finally lifted, and immediately barked out sharp, cold orders to restrain the ones still breathing.

None resisted.

They couldn’t.

Not when the Alpha was watching.

Riven, still in wolf form, huffed softly as he watched them obey. His gaze flicked up to Ronan again, softer this time.

See? You show up, and everyone listens. You’re the big scary wolf king and I love that for you.

Ronan glanced back.

He felt a mix of emotions, anger, pain, and frustration, none of which he could take out on Riven. Even if he was angry that Riven was hurt... Why did he have to go out? None of this would have happened if he had stayed put.

Looking at Riven, who looked like he was sobbing, the anger died. Only guilt.

He stepped over, lowering his head once more to sniff at Riven’s wound. His tongue flicked out, carefully lapping at the torn fur and drying blood. His entire body trembled with restraint, but he kept it steady, as if apologising for not arriving sooner.

Riven whined again—more playfully this time—and nestled into the safety Ronan’s presence brought.

This wasn’t how he imagined his day at the market going. He did not think that he would get hurt.

Ronan’s blue eyes swept over the chaos, and with a low growl, he gave a sharp nod. The two knights and Troy immediately moved, rounding up the thirty surviving assassins, dragging them off to the dungeons for interrogation. There were many who lay dead on the ground.

They were going to be searched for ’clues’, anything to implicate the elders.

Riven limped slightly, his ebony-furred form trembling with exhaustion. Ronan turned to him, his white wolf bowing low, lowering himself to the ground. His eyes softened. Shift back, he seemed to say, let me carry you.