Soon, a figure walked down the corridor from the far end, illuminated by the moonlight. It was Cyrus. His silhouette appeared tall and resolute under the moonlight, his steps steady and powerful.
Cyrus's gaze was sharp as an eagle's, fixed intently on the werewolf, emanating an invisible pressure.
The werewolf, seeing Cyrus appear, flashed a hint of wariness and fear in its eyes.
"Let her go," Cyrus shouted, his voice filled with authority and an irresistible force.
Spotting Cyrus, Anna felt a spark of hope ignite in her eyes as if she had seen dawn breaking through the darkness.
But the werewolf refused to release its hold. "Hmph, punk, don't meddle in things that don't concern you, or I'll make you regret it," it warned.
Cyrus sneered coldly, "You can do nothing. You won't be escap
