Beastworld Bride: My Seven SSS-Rank Alpha Mates

Elara’s POV

"Small larvae cost 350,000 credits per unit. Each B-class male runs 2.5 million. Transfer me 322,390,000 credits total—I’ll forget about the remainder." I extended my payment code toward Xander.

This place truly felt like heaven—unlimited financial transactions without restrictions.

Xander gulped audibly. The massive amount didn’t faze him. What left him stunned was the icy detachment emanating from me—a quality he’d witnessed only in battle-hardened males.

The Creditsync notification chimed, and I managed a tired smile. Xander proved himself a savvy dealer. He’d tacked on an additional 2 million credits, obviously hoping to maintain favorable relations.

Still, I couldn’t skip the necessary caution. "You understand what stays confidential, correct?"

Exhaustion weighed on me, yet my stare remained penetrating enough to unsettle him.

Xander bobbed his head frantically. "Absolutely. Those in my profession keep their mouths shut. Loose lips mean short careers."

He recognized the distinction between one lucrative deal and sustained prosperity.

I gave a curt nod. "Make sure you remember that."

"Any chance I could work more jobs like this?" Xander had earned a fortune through me this month. He was eager to maintain our partnership.

"Maybe," I mumbled.

"Mind if I save your name? I promise complete discretion. If you’d prefer not to share, I understand completely."

Traders typically avoided personal details—but I represented his most valuable client ever.

I told him my surname was Pendragon, then walked away. The moment the hatch sealed behind me, darkness claimed my vision as I collapsed.

——

Xander remained motionless, paralyzed by realization. Back at Glimmeraven Port, the men accompanying her had coliseum connections. Rumors suggested the coliseum’s hidden owner bore the surname Pendragon.

Terror coursed through his veins. The general public knew "Dr. Pendragon" only as a kind-hearted pharmacist. In reality, he was utterly merciless.

Underground circles understood the truth—though none had ever laid eyes on him.

Elara’s mention of "Pendragon" guaranteed his permanent silence.

At Voidferal Feral Territory, Alistair monitored the clock striking late evening. His patience had reached its limit.

He prepared to leave when Elara’s spacecraft touched down.

Relief flooded Alistair’s chest—but nobody emerged.

Without hesitation, he sprinted up the ramp. The opening hatch revealed a sight that nearly knocked him off his feet.

Three B-class male insect heads lay scattered inside. Elara was battered and motionless on the deck, wounds covering her body. A massive gash tore through her chest, blood still flowing freely. Her normally vibrant complexion had turned deathly white. She appeared lifeless.

Everything else became irrelevant. Alistair lunged forward and scooped her up tenderly. Anguish overwhelmed his heart while agony stabbed repeatedly through his chest.

His Elara had encountered insectoids.

Despite his utmost care, he still caused her pain. Elara’s features contorted in discomfort, and she released a soft moan.

Elara’s POV

Exhaustion made opening my eyes nearly impossible, but I sensed someone lifting me—with incredible gentleness.

Across two lifetimes, nobody had ever treated me with such delicacy. Zombies and insects had only savaged me.

I forced my weighted eyelids apart.

Oh. It’s 007. Whatever.

But am I hallucinating from the pain?

I could swear I detected concern on the robot’s face.

"I’m fine," I whispered.

Even to a machine, I felt compelled to offer reassurance.

My voice barely carried, but Alistair caught every syllable.

I could see something crumble in his expression. Hearing me pretend wellness seemed to deepen whatever torment he was experiencing. His face showed what looked like guilt and responsibility. He appeared trapped by some inner conflict while I had confronted danger alone.

Cradling my wounded, bloodied body in his arms, Alistair seemed to feel more obligated to me than ever, looking as though he believed he fell far short of being an adequate husband.

"Elara, don’t worry. We’ve made it home," he murmured gently.

That voice...

It’s the loudmouth from Chamber Five.

I smiled weakly. "I know who you are now..."

Alistair stopped moving entirely. But I was too drained to complete my thought.

——

He moved swiftly. Alistair transported Elara to her quarters, then immediately sought the medical robots. However, every machine at Voidferal Feral Territory was programmed exclusively to treat the seven men in the wards.

Alistair panicked and rushed to Finnian. "You submitted a medical request before—what was their response?"

Spiritual energy crackled erratically around him, and anxiety made his tone sharp and desperate.

Finnian answered coldly, "It was rejected."

No medical team would risk approaching them. Without Elara’s presence, he would have ended his life ages ago.