Seven wolves step forward. I catalog each face, noting surprises and confirmations alike. When Marcus joins them, something cold settles in my chest. My beta. My brother in all but blood.
His eyes meet mine briefly before sliding away.
“The challenge is witnessed,” Elder Riva continues. “First challenger—approach.”
Darin enters the circle with cocky assurance, his lean form vibrating with anticipation. He’s fast, I’ll give him that. In normal circumstances, his speed would pose a moderate threat.
But these aren’t normal circumstances.
The moment he attacks, I know I’m in trouble. My reflexes lag, the incomplete bond sapping reaction time. His claws rake across my ribs before I can fully dodge. First blood to the challenger.
Steady.Ember’s thought brushes mine, carefully controlled to avoid distracting me.
Darin presses his advantage, darting in and out, leaving shallow wounds designed to wear me down. He’s fighting smart—using my weakness against me.
But he’s also young. Impatient.
When he overcommits to a strike at my throat, I’m ready. I catch his wrist, using his momentum to flip him hard onto his back. Before he can recover, I’m on him, teeth at his throat.
“Yield,” I growl.
He struggles briefly, then goes limp. “I yield.”
One down. My ribs burn where his claws marked me, blood seeping steadily. Through the bond, I feel Ember’s concern spike.
“Second challenger,” Elder Riva calls.
Toren steps forward—older, experienced, one of our best warriors. He’s watched my fight with Darin, learned my vulnerabilities. This won’t be quick.
He doesn’t rush. Circles me slowly, forcing me to turn, to track, to waste energy. When he finally strikes, it’s calculated—a feint high followed by a sweep that takes my legs out from under me.
I roll aside as his foot stomps where my head was. I come up swinging, catching him across the jaw. He staggers but recovers quickly, pressing the attack.
We trade blows that would cripple lesser wolves. His experience shows—every strike targets existing wounds, aggravates injuries. My incomplete bond screams with each impact, the hollow ache becoming active agony.
He gets me down twice. The second time, his hands close around my throat, cutting off air. Dark spots dance in my vision as the crowd holds its breath.
Get up.Ember’s mental voice cuts through the haze.Get up, my wolf.
The endearment—hers for me alone—ignites something primal. I buck hard, breaking his grip, and reverse our positions. My greater weight pins him as I rain down strikes until he raises one hand in submission.
“Yield! I yield!”
I stagger back, chest heaving. Two down. But the toll shows—blood seeps from a dozen wounds, and my left eye swells shut. Every muscle trembles with exhaustion.
“Final challenger,” Elder Riva announces, though everyone knows who remains.
Marcus enters the circle, and my heart sinks. Not because I fear losing to him, but because this fight will forever change what we were to each other.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I rasp.
“Yes, it does.” His face shows grief beneath determination. “You’ve lost yourself, Zane. The wolf I followed would never bow to civilized demands. Would never weaken himself with a mate who doesn’t understand our ways.”
“She understands more than?—”
He attacks mid-sentence.
Marcus knows me like no other. Every tell, every pattern, every strength and weakness catalogued through years of fighting together. He uses it all.
