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Paxton
Six weeks later…
This man, Bryant’s prized fighter, is nothing. His muscles are artificial, built by gym equipment and narcissism. He won’t outfight me. My body is built on survival and hard labor. Bryant hopes to embarrass me in the circle with my first fight, but the man they call Oren is nothing. A pawn in the way of me getting what I want.
Once I deal with this man, my hope is that Bryant himself will step into the circle with me. I’ve heard of his skill, and I know he would normally never step up against new blood. I’m counting on pride to be his downfall.
Because once I beat Bryant in his own ring, the Alpha of the Anchorage Lake Pack will have no choice but to see me for himself. No matter how closely I’ve watched and waited, I haven’t managed to find any other angle to earn face time with the Alpha.
He’s a hard man to corner.
“You sure about this, kid?” One of Bryant’s guys snickers as he gives me a dismissive once-over.
I don’t respond. Not even when the guy growls at the lack of respect I’m showing by ignoring his pointed question. Everyone here thinks I’m cocky. They think their prized man will make a fool of me. It’s the reason the other new bloods have fought fighters barely above their own speed. Meanwhile, Bryant is throwing me in with the big guy.
I have an attitude, and everyone here smelled it on me the second I stepped foot on their land. The difference between cockiness and confidence is skill. I’m about to show them I have it in spades.
I don’t bother hiding my smirk as I take in the crowd. They have no way of knowing the stealthy way I’ve watched them all fight. I know Oren’s best moves. I also know he’s slow as fuck. Even if I didn’t have the drop on him, I would take him down easily. All I have to do is strike first. Throw him off his game.
I study my surroundings closely enough to see the moment the energy of the crowd changes. It calms and distorts itself to seem more respectful than the backwoods training ground that it really is.
Oren is already approaching, but Bryant has stepped away, so I’m safe enough to shift slightly. Enough to see what’s going on behind me without letting on that I give a shit.
Fucking bingo.
For once, I’m a lucky bastard. My mark has come to me on his own—and even better, he’s brought the Luna with him. Her brown hair falls in waves around her shoulders and her blue eyes are wide with interest, making her look soft compared to the man beside her with his short cropped hair and mouth set in a grim line. I set my sights on Alpha Dominic assuming I would never get close to his Luna. Now she’s so close I could almost reach out and fucking take her.
Looks like we don’t have to wound an old man’s pride after all.
“What the hell do you look so cheery about?” Oren grunts. He sounds like a Neanderthal when he speaks, his mouth opening wide and letting spittle fly.
“Just thinking about how good it’s going to feel to lay you out in front of your new Alpha.” I’ve heard all the talk about Oren being called up to join the pack soldiers here. The stupid son of a bitch really thinks the greatest honor would be to die for a man who probably wouldn’t bother to remember his name.
I don’t care much for the politics of pack life. Which is exactly why it’s perfect that my mark has brought his sweet woman right to me. I’ll waste a lot less time this way.
“Don’t even fucking look at the Alpha.” More spittle flies. “You think you’re hot shit. Ain’t no respect for muscles you can’t use.” He eyes my biceps, really taking in that they’re as big around as his. He doesn’t see the difference between my cut and his. He thinks his pretty boy muscles and the ones I’ve worked my ass off for are one and the same.
I’m not just going to beat him in front of his new Alpha, I’m going to fucking bury him.
“Whatever.” I wave Oren away from me and chance a quick glance over at where the Alpha and Luna stand among the other new shifters that have come to train here. Unlike me, their motives are pure. They’re looking for something greater than themselves. Poor bastards.
The Luna watches me with a keen eye. I’m careful not to let my gaze linger on her for more than a split second. Tales of Alpha Dominic’s jealousy have spread like wildfire. I have no interest in taking his woman.
Tess Jarreau just happens to have something I want.
“Take your positions!” Bryant shouts, his voice ringing out over the muffled sounds of talking. In a proper fight, the spectators usually offer up silence, but these wolves don’t understand that. Most of them have probably never seen a real fight in their lives. They sign up to be soldiers without having ever seen true violence.
Poor bastards, my wolf echoes my own sentiment.
Bryant’s already given me a run down of how his fights work. One fighter nods first to signal their readiness, and then the second nod starts the fight. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t give an opponent the upper hand, but in this case, I nod first to keep Oren underestimating me. It doesn’t matter to me who marks the start of the fight as long as I’m the one finishing it.
Oren stares me down intensely, trying to fake me out and get the upper hand. He’s a stupid fuck for playing games. A fighter with confidence doesn’t need to bullshit. All it does is rile my blood having him think he can toy with me.
The second he nods, I’m on him.
I strike his weak left side, cracking a rib before he can even throw a punch. Then, with an easy dodge, I let him throw himself off-kilter before delivering a hard uppercut to his chin. He’ll be lucky if I haven’t broken his jaw with the impact.
