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"We need to end this fast," Rhoan said softly. "There can be no chances, no mistakes, and definitely no doubt in anyone's mind of the consequences should anything like this ever happen again."
"Blake's ruled for years, and he knows this arena well." I shook free of my jacket as we neared the other end of the arena. "And he packs more weight than me. That'll tell in this fight."
"He may be bigger, but you're faster and stronger." He gripped my arm. "You'll be fine."
"I know." I also knew that it wasn't going to be as easy as Rhoan believed.
I rolled my shoulders, flexed my legs. Prepared, as much as anyone could prepare for the brutality that was a wolf fight.
Halfway up the arena, a green flag went up. A horn sounded immediately - its note haunting and poignant -
informing all those not already aware that ad vitam aeternam was about to start. As the final notes drifted away on the breeze, the flag dropped.
Rhoan and I jumped forward as one, flowing from one shape to another as we raced up the hill. Blake and Tyson were already halfway down, suggesting they'd jumped the flag, their growls and fury staining the crisp air.
I swerved to the left, getting out of Rhoan's way, running at an angle across the hill. Blake moved to intercept me, taking several gigantic strides before he leapt. I met him in the air, our chests crashing together, the sound cracking across the arena like a whip. I bared my teeth and lunged at his face, snapping and snarling. His teeth slid across my nose, tearing into flesh as we dropped to the ground. I dove away, twisted around, rearing up on my back legs as he came at me. Again our chests met as my paws clawed his side and my teeth sank into the ruff of his neck. He pulled away, but I hung on, twisting and shaking my head, trying to tear flesh. He snarled and slashed with his jaws, his canines ripping into my ear. I released him, jumped back. Felt the blood coursing down my neck, thick and warm.
Saw, out of the corner of my eye, the glint of silver on a distant rooftop.
A rifle.
>The sensation of being watched soon began to grow, until my whole neck itched with it. The tension emanating from Rhoan suggested he felt it, too.
I kept running, but my gaze swept the barren landscape, looking for watchers that Evin mightn't have known about. After all, Blake would more than likely have introduced stricter security measures once his plot against me had started. He was smart enough to realize the Directorate would retaliate the minute they found any connection.
It's just a shame he wasn't intelligent enough to keep his anger and need for revenge to himself, rather than actually acting upon it.
We started up the long slope that was the final division between us and the place we'd grown up. My stomach was still in knots, and my heart was beating nine to the dozen. We reached the top and, as one, slowed.
Below us lay the valley of our childhood. In many respects, it looked more like a large ranch with lots of outbuildings than a city like Dunedan. The old, wood-shingled buildings blended in with the red of the surrounding countryside and contrasted sharply against the bright pockets of green - the football oval, the cemetery, and the few acres surrounding the dam that had always been the swimming hole for every kid who grew up here.
There were people out and about but, as yet, it didn't appear that we'd been noticed. My gaze went almost with a will of its own to the ramshackle but beautiful old house that sat one behind - and slightly to the side - of the main gathering house. That's where we'd grown up. It had been our grandfather's place, but never really our home, as much as our mom had tried to make it seem otherwise. Our grandfather had tolerated us, he'd fed us, and he'd educated us, but he'd never really loved us. We were half-breeds and, in his eyes, a tarnish on the Jenson name.
Maybe that was why he'd turned a blind eye to so much of what Blake and his family had done to us over the years. He'd always stopped it from going too far, but I think that had been more for Mom's sake than from any real need to protect us.
Mom.
For the first time since all this had begun, I actually began to think about her. Neither of us had seen her for well over ten years. We didn't communicate, didn't share birthdays or Christmas or Easter.
And yet I knew she'd loved us.
How was she going to react when she saw us? When she realized what we were going to do?
How the hell were we going to react when we saw her?
I shivered and rubbed my arms. Rhoan hugged me fiercely. Then, without saying a word, he wrapped his fingers around mine and started off down the hill.
We were spotted about halfway down. Initially it was nothing more than people briefly pausing for a look, then getting on with whatever they were doing, but word of who we were must have gotten around fairly quickly. By the time we'd hit the valley bottom, we'd drawn quite a crowd.
But it was a silent one, and that was weird.
Rhoan released my fingers as we neared the first of the outbuildings, but he kept close, our arms brushing each other as we walked. The tension that had been riding him earlier had gone, and he walked with the loose-limbed ease of a predator who knows his prey cannot get away.
I wished I could imitate him, but it simply wasn't possible.
Scents swirled around us, rich with familiarity and memories. I closed my mind to them, concentrating on the silent figures watching us, wondering what they were thinking but not daring to find out. Their expressions were closed, unreadable, and for one uneasy moment, I wondered if we'd misjudged the pack. Wondered if we'd bitten off more than we could chew.
We continued up a slight incline, heading toward the main gathering hall. Blake could have been anywhere, but the hall was the seat of power for the pack. It's where business was handled, where justice was meted out, and where major events were celebrated.
