Chapter 90

Chapter 90
It was D-day, and nerves ate at me like termites would to wood. My stomach twisted in knots, a sharp contrast to the throbbing crowd whose faces were lit up in smiles. After all, everyone had gathered to see the fight for the alpha male.

I stood with my mate, preparing him for the fight ahead. He had decided to wear only a singlet and a short, and I was trying my best not to claw out the eyes of the females that were ogling him. Instead, I decided to focus on him.

“You know what to do, right?” I asked him as I smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt, even though there was nothing to do. I just needed the excuse to touch him. “If you are caught in a bind, aim for his crotch, and he won't be able to escape it.”

“Remember Toby. Head warrior of the rogue pack? Does that ring a bell?” He said in a dry tone and raised my left brow as I looked at him until he managed a smile. “I know what to do. I have been doing this all my life, and this is not going to be a big deal. I am also fighting for you, and it is something I will gladly do.”

“I know; I am just worried about you,” I told him as he took my face in his hands. “If it were possible, we would have scrapped out everything about this fight totally and just sent him on his way.”

“It is alright, love. I will be fine.” And he made a big show of kissing me on the lips, much to my delight and the glaring envy of a particular person that was already burning holes through my back.

“Alright fighters, take your position.” The head warrior boomed, and Toby and I reluctantly parted away from each other, but not before I whispered a prayer to the moon goddess on behalf of my mate.

I watched as the two of them stood side by side, glaring at each other. Malcolm had opted for a shirtless look, and he had covered himself in black paint as a bid to appear intimidating, but he was a little shorter than Toby, and it would take a lot to intimidate that man.

Malcom cracked his neck, and he held his hands up, beckoning to Toby, and I moved away to give them the needed space.

“Begin.” The head warrior boomed from the sidelines, where he would be watching all that was going on. And that was all he needed before Malcolm took off with the speed of lightning.

Shit, the man was fast; his feet barely touched the ground as he ran, and immediately he got to Toby; he began to rain blows after blows on him, each strike hitting a vital point.

But Toby was also fast; his instinct kicked in, and he managed to dodge all of them, although some were by a hair's breadth, and my breath seemed to hitch up with the more time they spent in this attack and defense dance.

But Malcolm changed his tactics, and he drove his knees upwards, catching Toby in the ribs, and I flinched as Toby staggered from the impact, but he did not retaliate. Malcolm took advantage of it, slamming his fist into Toby's jaw, and my mouth hung open as blood splattered to the ground.

My fist clenched at my sides as the rage began to bubble inside. ‘Why was he just standing there?’ I wanted to scream at him. At this point, Malcolm was going to beat him to a pulp while he stood there and did nothing. And I refused to be mated to such an annoying prick.

‘Look.’ Lia said, and I let my gaze trail to Toby, his eyes focused on Malcolm as he watched his movement closely, and it clicked. He wasn’t being docile; he was just trying to monitor him, and while it was a good tactic, I would rather he didn’t die while trying to study him.

Toby's eyes met mine, and I tried the best I could to convey to him that he needed to act. Telepathy might have been in play because he sprung into action, rushing towards Malcolm, his body slamming into him, and they both landed on the floor.

Malcolm recovered quickly, and his legs flew wild, almost colliding with his face, but Toby ducked low, his fist raining down on his stomach in a punishing blow. However, Malcolm grabbed his hand, twisting it in an unnatural manner, and the sickening crunch I heard was enough to make me barf.

But Toby’s free claws slashed across Malcolm’s side, tearing through the flesh of his stomach, and blood dripped onto the floor. Malcolm clutched his wound, his face contorting in pain, and that was all the opening Toby needed. He seized the moment and landed a powerful punch squarely on Malcolm’s face, and if it were in the movies, I would have seen his muscles shifting.

The action angered Malcolm, and he let out a guttural roar, slamming both hands against Toby’s face in a double slap, and the sound echoed through the air along with the shocked gasp of the crowd.

Toby’s face burned an angry shade of red, his eyes unfocused as they lazed about. The impact made him stagger backward, and my feet moved forward, ready to rush into the field if this goes sideways. But I forced myself to stay put and watched them, whispering a silent prayer to the moon goddess.

Malcolm seized the moment, and he gripped Toby’s face, his fingers digging into his eyes. Shit, he was going to pluck them out. Toby lashed out, his claws slashing at Malcolm’s face and hands, but Malcolm held out. Toby, fueled by desperation, threw a sharp kick to his stomach, and the force sent him stumbling back, finally breaking his grip.

They both spat the blood from their mouths, their chests heaving with adrenaline while their eyes were both set on each other, the anger swirling in them, and fear gripped me with its cold arms.

I have seen that gaze before, and it could only mean one thing. Death.