Chapter 90
Caron
"What do you an?" Alric says. His voice cracks just slightly, but loud enough for everyone in the square to hear. The crowd’s murmurs hush to a charged silence. All eyes swing between him and .
Taking a step closer to the weather-worn wolf statue, placing my palm on its cool stone base as my gaze fixes on him.
I’m exhausted. We drove to White Stone nonstop, and now being here—seeing the state of this place—has my emotions all over the place. My wolf is closer to the surface than ever, and it’s making restless, angry, and a little unhinged. Can’t believe I ever was human.
"Turns out," I say with a shrug, letting my voice carry to the restless crowd, "you’ve done a pretty shitty job as pack leader. I’ve been requested to relieve you of your duties."
Murmurs ripple through the crowd—whispers of disbelief, of hope. Alric’s eyes widen, bloodshot and panicked.
"You are not blood!" he yells, voice shaking as spit flies.
"I am mated to a direct descendant of Maen," I reply evenly, stepping closer to him, each word deliberate.
"You know what that ans. I can and will."
My voice rises, carrying across the square, echoing off the walls of rotting buildings.
"Alric Maen, current pack leader of White Stone Pack—I, Caron Anderson, mate of Lenora Maen, challenge you for your position as pack leader."
The words hang in the air, final and heavy. The mont they leave my lips, sothing changes. It’s almost tangible—the way the weight of the law presses down on all of us.
I understand now why Torren and Flint insisted I phrase it exactly that way. Those words aren’t just tradition—they’re a trigger. An invocation that even the goddess herself bears witness to. There’s no running from it now.
Alric shakes his head violently, taking a step back. "No. No, you can’t. You have no right!"
Nana’s cane strikes the cracked pavent once. The sound cuts through the silence like a thunderclap. Her voice follows, sharp and carrying, the voice of an elder and a priestess.
"The challenge has been issued, Alric Maen. By the law of our ancestors and the goddess, it cannot be denied."
Alric’s face twists. "Impossible! Were you all in on this?!" He jabs a shaking finger at the elders ringed around the statue. None of them et his eyes. They shift, stoop, look anywhere but at him.
"How dare you betray !" he shrieks, voice cracking like brittle glass. Spittle flies from his lips as his chest heaves.
The gathered wolves murmur, a ripple of sound running through the square.
And then another voice cuts through the rising noise—deep, mocking, and all too amused.
"My, my. An eventful morning this is."
The crowd parts slightly as a massive figure steps forward from behind Alric. He’s impossible to miss—tall, bald, with a web of scars crawling over his thick neck and arms. A predator in every line of his body. His presence drips arrogance.
I don’t need an introduction. My gut tells exactly who he is.
"Isn’t this bullying, little wolf?" he drawls. "A young pup full of vitality challenging a poor elder? Surely you can’t be serious."
My arms fold over my chest. My wolf rises closer to the surface, irritated and already gauging him as prey.
"The law is the law," I say flatly. "And the law says—"
He holds up a hand, smirking. "Ah, but the law has its exceptions. You wouldn’t want it to be unfair, would you?" His grin shows teeth—sharp, white, dangerous.
The square goes dead silent.
"This fight would be far too one-sided against poor Alric," he continues. "So I’ll be fighting as his proxy."
A low rumble of gasps ripples through the crowd. Even Savage Claw’s own mbers at the edges exchange sharp looks. The man—no, this brute—takes a deliberate step closer to , his boots grinding against the cracked gravel.
"Surely I’m more of your match than bullying a senior citizen," he says, voice almost playful. But his eyes... his eyes are all hunger.
Ha. Guess, human or wolf, there are always people like this—those who thrive on cruelty, who wield their strength like a weapon against the weak.
I know his type. I’ve t n like him before in the human world. The suits may change, but the hunger in the eyes never does.
He tilts his head, lips curling into a smirk that doesn’t reach his dead-eyed stare.
"So do we have a fight, little mister pack leader wannabe?"
I et his gaze without flinching, my voice steady, deliberate.
"It matters not to , for the results will be the sa."
A ripple of whispers moves through the gathered wolves, the kind of sound that speaks of fear and anticipation tangled together.
"We have a fight," I add, each word sharp enough to cut the tension.
For a heartbeat, the entire square seems to hold its breath.
Nana steps forward, her old fra deceptively frail, her cane striking the cracked pavent. Her voice is steady, ringing with the authority of tradition and the goddess herself.
"Tonight. First light of the moon."
The ti has been set. There is no going back now. The ritual law has been invoked; neither I nor Savage Claw’s brute can walk away without consequence.
The scarred wolf’s grin widens. He bares his teeth in sothing halfway between a laugh and a threat.
"Perfect. Gives ti to work up an appetite," the scarred brute says, baring his teeth.
I et his gaze without flinching, my voice low and edged like a blade.
"Your appetite is better suited for your last al—because you won’t be seeing the light of dawn."
A ripple runs through the crowd at my words. So gasp, so smirk, so whisper like they can’t decide whether I’m insane or deadly serious.
The brute scoffs, a guttural sound deep in his throat.
"Big talk. Let’s hope you can back it."
He turns on his heel, swaggering as he walks away. Alric follows at his side, throwing one last venomous glare at and the elders before disappearing into the restless crowd.
User Comments
0 comments from readers