“Couple of SUVs coming your way for the alpha challenge,” a mindlink from the warriors on duty gives us two minutes warning that the Iron Fang elders are almost here. Our own pack elders wait patiently with me and Ryan at the front of the pack house. We’ve briefed them already, sharing only what we need to fornow.
It’s not that we don’t trust them—their role is vital to pack governance—but we don’t even know what we know at this point.
Gravel crunches under my boots as I pace back and forth. Ryan, in contrast, is the picture of composure again, nothing akin to the sliced up, half-dressed Alpha of thirty minutes ago, wearing loose shorts and the remnants of a shredded shirt hanging from his neck. Now he’s wearing a white button-down, black dress pants, and boots.
He looks every bit the distinguished pack leader.
The visiting elders climb out of their jeeps, and approach Ryan, sensing his alpha authority instantly. An older shifter with gray hair and a sharp face leads the group. They appear unsettled; some exchanging glances with one another, others more eager to listen to what’s happening. I can’t say I blame them. Ryan steps forward and introduces himself.
“I’m Noel,” the first male says, before introducing the others. Unlike our elders, who are a mixture of genders; I’m not surprised to learn the Iron Fang cohort are all male. Considering their alpha attempted to rape Emily within half an hour of arriving on our pack lands, I’m guessing this pack doesn’t value its females. I can’t get a read on them, though. They don’t seem too worried about their alpha being challenged, and I have no idea if that’s a good thing or not.
“Is there really a need for this challenge to go ahead?” Noel asks. “Iron Fang has been governed by the Andersons for generations. I see no reason we should accept an outsider.”
Ah, that’s why. They think they can weasel out of it.
“The council rules on alpha challenges are clear,” Ryan replies firmly. “Once a challenge is initiated, it must be upheld within forty-eight hours unless extenuating circumstances call for a council waiver or delay. As no such circumstances exist—”
“Yes, of course, Alpha Rivera. No need to quote council rules,” another elder cuts Ryan off, shooting Noel a glare so withering it would make Sofia proud. There are definitely some weird dynamics going on in this pack.
“Right, the challenge will take place at our training center. Beta Cooper is already there. I’ll escort Alpha Anderson momentarily, and we shall see you all there. My beta, Luca, will walk you over now.” Ryan’s voice is casual, and if I hadn’t known him my entire life, I probably wouldn’t have noticed the tension in his posture. But it’s clear as day to me. The way his jaw ticks, how tight his smile is, the way his arms hang loose yet flexed and ready to respond.
“This way,” I chirp, forcing positivity into my usually grumpy tone and striding away, making it clear they are to follow me. And they do. I might not be their beta, but they understand to follow my lead. The elders are silent other than their steps behind me as we walk towards the training center.
I tune into their scents, and they are so varied it’s suffocating. There are notes of excitement, fear, anger, and maybe even hope? Whatever is going on, it’s clear this group of elders is not on the same page about who they want to be their alpha.
Chapter Three
Luca
John and Caleb stand ten feet apart with Ryan between them, reciting the council rules for an alpha challenge. Fights will be in human form; claws and teeth only. The fight is to the death or until one fighter surrenders. Surrender means forfeiting their position in Iron Fang and leaving forever. Alpha commands are expressly forbidden and will result in an immediate disqualification and banishment.
John glares at his pack elders. As though he is deeply inconvenienced. Not about to fight to his death. He shrugs off his jacket and removes his shirt and tie, scowling at all times.
Caleb, on the other hand, appears calm and collected. If anything, he looks content. A small smile plays on his lips, speaking of anticipation rather than unease. His claws extend as he bounces on the balls of his feet.
“The Alpha Challenge begins on my howl,” Ryan says before stepping back and letting out a low howl. John and Caleb circle each other, taking even steps, keeping a steady distance. John is the first to make a move, lunging forward.
He’s sloppy. A poor excuse for an Alpha. His movements are too big, too obvious, clear long before he makes contact. Caleb doesn’t look rattled. He shifts his weight smoothly, almost lazily in the way he sidesteps, deflecting the blows with a precision that makes John seem like an amateur. Caleb is back in a defensive stance before John can even recover from the previous failed attempt at an attack. Caleb’s gaze narrows, posture coiled like a predator, waiting for the perfect opening.
John lunges again, faster this time, claws flashing in the low light as they slice through the air. The sound alone is sharp enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. But Caleb doesn’t flinch. He pivots at the last second, forcing John to overextend, and the claws catch nothing but air. A thin line of red opens on Caleb’s arm—shallow, almost meaningless—but it’s enough to show me the difference between them. John is all rage and muscle, full of cock-sure arrogance. Caleb is all about control. Pure, ruthless control.
And fate—it’s brutal and oh so fucking satisfying watching John realize it.
“This is madness,” John snarls. “You’ll never be accepted in my pack. Just give up now.”
Ryan snarls and steps forward at hearing the alpha command John infused into his words. “No fucking alpha commands,” he roars, applying his own command. John and Caleb are unaffected—both being alpha wolves—but the air whooshes out of my lungs like I’ve been hit. The elders bare their necks and cower under the intensity of the command.
Caleb sweeps his leg out with brutal precision, sending John crashing onto his back. In a blink, Caleb is on him, pinning him flat against the floor, all weight and fury pressing him down.
“Do you know why I’m doing this, you piece of shit?” Caleb growls, his voice vibrating through the room.
John spits blood, sneering even pinned below his opponent. “Because you’re too much of a pussy to enjoy pussy?”
My stomach turns to lead. Hearing him refer to his attempted rape of Emily asenjoying pussyas if it’s some kind of joke sickens me. His depravity is bottomless, and it makes my skin crawl.
Which is why I don’t even try to hide the vicious satisfaction that surges through me when Caleb’s fist slams into John’s jaw, the sharp crack echoing across the training arena. A tooth flies across the floor, skittering like a flat rock across the surface of a lake.
Good. He deserves to choke on every one of them.
