Beastworld Bride: My Seven SSS-Rank Alpha Mates

Elara’s POV

"Back... back up a bit." I shuffled slowly toward Finnian.

The fox looked down, his gaze landing on my phone. Just like Barrett, he’d caught sight of the screen too.

As I moved closer, he pressed his lips into a line and smiled to himself, looking as though he found it amusing that I ever thought he was one of the good guys.

Still, he gently drew me under his protection. Barrett’s expression turned stone-cold. When he locked eyes with Finnian’s neutral stare, his hands balled into fists that cracked audibly, as if he were already planning how to make these spotlight-stealing weaklings grovel later in the virtual arena.

After that uncomfortable moment, we arrived at a wide clearing. Gentle hills rolled around it, dotted with a creek and some twisted, stunted trees. I shut my eyes in frustration. Even Novareach Floating Island had contamination, just not as much as other places.

But I could glimpse the sky, and that made it bearable.

I despised the claustrophobic sensation of hiding behind shields constantly.

I climbed off the scooter and chose a small, reasonably level patch of ground—about 1.3 acres. After I’d marked the location, I gulped down my nutrient drink, then faced Finnian and Barrett with a serious expression. "Everyone here can be trusted, right?"

Barrett’s eyes grew dark. He understood my meaning. After a brief pause, he gave a nod.

With his assurance, I extended my palm. Green light gathered there, spreading outward with a gentle wind. Instantly, a greenhouse materialized from nothing on the bare earth.

Yeah—when I’d escaped the medical facility, I’d uprooted my entire hidden sanctuary and taken it along.

Barrett and Finnian stood frozen in amazement.

Finnian spoke up, "Elara, that’s not storage technology. That’s spatial ability?"

They both gawked in astonishment. I stayed quiet. My throat felt parched, and my body was wiped out from pushing my power too hard. The greenhouse was massive, and every inhale tasted like grit.

I crouched and spit out the dust. I reached into my pocket for water, but grabbed hard alcohol instead. Before Barrett and Finnian could offer me water or check if I was alright, I’d already lifted the bottle and drained it.

Barrett looked bewildered.

Finnian asked, "Elara, are you okay?"

My face flushed red. I threw the tool down and bolted before they could follow. "Turn all the dirt in the greenhouse. Wait until I come back."

I hadn’t wandered far. I’d simply scaled a nearby gnarled tree, curled up like a bear cub on a branch... and drifted off.

I had simple drinking patterns: knocked out immediately after drinking, no drama whatsoever. Before nodding off, I flicked my fingers, and vines coiled around the branch to create a cushioned nest. I shifted position, and soft breathing filled the space—leaving Barrett and Finnian below gaping at each other, utterly speechless.

——

Barrett used his wind ability to form a gentle cushion underneath her, just in case she tumbled.

Finnian used telekinesis to drift his jacket over her, but Barrett batted it aside and draped his own over her instead.

He clenched his jaw and pulled his coat back around her.

"What’s your deal?" Barrett glowered.

"I could ask you the same, General Barrett." Finnian folded his arms, his presence turning frigid.

He adjusted his sleeves, his icy stare boring into Barrett. "Want to have a contest, General Barrett?"

Barrett laughed harshly, "You think I’m intimidated by you?" 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

"I can crush a scheming fox with one blow," he thought.

"Let’s compete, then," Finnian declared.

Wind swirled around their feet, and the two charged toward the greenhouse, each terrified of lagging behind by even one stroke of the shovel.

The pair dug frantically.

The contaminated earth was cement-hard. Only raw power could crack it. Alistair had worked the soil previously, but he’d used the 007 robot frame.

These two?

Their rivalry had ignited. They refused to use machines, even when available, just to outdo each other.

But the sound was ear-splitting. Banging and crashing like they were excavating, hammering in their skulls.

Elara’s brow furrowed. She’d been sleeping peacefully, but the din wouldn’t quit. She let out an irritated moan. In the next moment, a pair of strong hands softly shielded her ears.

Alistair lifted her gently from the tree, his movements tender. Elara still scowled, the alcohol hitting her heavily—she couldn’t even crack her eyelids. When she recognized his familiar scent, she squirmed in his embrace, discovered a cozy spot, and dozed off again with a satisfied expression.

That was the experienced man’s approach: first to act, first to succeed.

The secret to being an ideal partner was having keen instincts.

Rather than waiting for Elara to force them into combat in the simulator, he’d seize the moment.

Joy comes from taking action.