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Branson narrowed his eyes. “Listen. This is my territory. You’re here unannounced. Why?”
“I’m here for your submission to the Contention.”
Branson laughed. “Ah, the Contention. Tell me, Holden, are nineteen women not enough for you? You just have to have one more?”
“It’s mandatory—pack law. I don’t have time for your bullshit today. Can we just get this over with?” I’d stepped closer and closer with each word, and now I only stood a couple of feet from Branson. I arched a brow. “Unless you’d like to make another challenge, here and now?”
The tall beta stepped right in front of me. “Yes. I challenge you on behalf of my alpha. One on one. Right here.”
I spread my arms wide and grinned. “Another fight already? Must be my lucky day.”
Branson’s smirk dropped into a scowl at my response, but he didn’t step forward or offer to fight his own battles. He was starting to show a pattern.
I stepped back into the open road and eyed the beta. Behind me, I could feel my three wolves tense, standing at the ready if they were needed, but they wouldn’t be.
I’d been honing my battle skills my entire life. The challenges I’d received over the past year had more than prepared me for anything that could come my way. But as I readied to attack, I wondered what game Branson was playing. Did he have a long line of wolves to put forward? To wear me down so he could finally challenge me himself?
The beta shifted, staring me down, and I wondered if he really believed he could win this. It wasn’t me being cocky. I’d spent well over a decade honing my body and skills to get to where I was now, only months away from accepting the title of North American alpha. It was my life’s purpose, and I wasn’t going to let any number of challenges stand in my way.
I took my time removing my clothes—I hadn’t brought a backup—sensing Branson’s irritation ratchet up with every passing second. I was ready when I finally shifted and stood opposite the black wolf.
Following protocol, I waited for him to make the first move. He lunged forward, teeth bared, throwing the full force of his weight towards me—bad opening move.
I stood my ground, waiting until the last possible second before I darted forward, sliding down and under the wolf’s body as he leaped into the air. Lifting one paw skyward, I slashed at his underbelly with my claws, drawing blood. The wolf landed only a couple of yards away from me, his shock evident as he looked down at the blood dripping onto the dirt.
I hadn’t cut deep, not ready for a fatal move if the beta decided he didn’t want to lose his life. But the growl that shook the air proved he wasn’t giving up that easily. He snarled, stalking toward me, and I waited for him to make the next move.
This time, he feinted left, then lunged right, jaws snapping as he got within inches of my neck. But I was ready for him, slamming my paw against his head and scraping my claws over his left eye. He fell to the side, blood pouring from the socket, and I approached him, placing a paw on his throat, compressing against his windpipe.
I growled and pushed harder, signaling for him to surrender.
“Fight back, you bastard,” I heard faintly from the office building steps. Branson. “Don’t let him win so easily. Have some pride!”
The wolf’s eyes flickered, but he growled back and attempted to push me off. I’d given him a chance and he’d refused.
I wasn’t going to drag this out. With a mighty roar, I sank my claws into the flesh, slicing his throat before bending and tearing it out with my teeth. His body went limp beneath me, and regret pierced my chest. The loss of life should never be taken lightly, even if it was the way of the pack.
I pushed the feeling aside ruthlessly. A shifter in my position didn’t have a choice. If I wanted to keep the peace my father worked so hard to establish, I had to prove myself in every challenge. An alpha above reproach, who followed the laws and would lead with strength and fairness.
I shifted back, the metallic taste of blood still on my tongue as I dressed and strode toward Branson, whose jaw was jutting out like a petulant child.
“Iwillbe leaving with a girl today,” I told him, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll fight anyone you bring my way, but you will submit your contender.”
Branson signaled to one of his black-clad thugs, his lip curled in disgust. “Get the girl.”
I narrowed my eyes. So, he’d been planning on sending someone all along? At the very least, he had someone ready for today. Which meant he’d known we would come, and siccing his beta on us was likely another planned move.
His games were already growing old. As I was about to confront him over it, voices coming from the dark entryway of the building drew my attention.
“Letgo,” an outraged woman insisted. Feet shuffled over the floor, followed by a male grunt, then a sharp intake of breath. “I’m going, can’t you see that? You don’t have to be so—”
The words died on the woman’s lips as Branson’s minion pushed her forward. She skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs, long strands of silvery-white blonde hair blowing in the early morning breeze, whipping around a face so beautiful that for a moment, all I could do was stare.
Almond-shaped honey-brown eyes widened in shock, her full mouth parting. She was of average height, her body toned and fit, but that face. The tilt of her eyes, heart-shaped jaw, and slightly upturned nose were a breathtaking combination, something an artist might spend a lifetime trying to capture.
I shook my head. Where the hell had that nonsense come from? But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Something wasn’t right.
The woman’s features twisted in horror as she stared past me at the blood and gore remaining on the ground, along with the black wolf’s limp body.
