Chapter 59 Challenge Accepted
Xander
We land together so hard a mini-tornado of sand erupts, knocking the breath out of me. For a few seconds, neither one of us moves.
"You're not worthy of this position, all is hide behind your walls and your guards," the male sneered once our eyes had met.
It is a calculated insult, but I don't pay his words any attention more than a fly.
Now, with great effort, I push up on my paws, watching him do the same thing - Sean. I had looked him up the moment I had heard of his challenge. An Alpha from a small pack on the west. He's been rumored to be the type to rule with an iron fist; a dictator at best, knowing he barely even has pack executives.
I'll be damned before I let someone like him rule over my kingdom.
My paws dig into the dirt as I run at him in full speed. He meets me halfway, trying and failing to snap his jaw on my neck.
I dodge his snapping jaws, rolling under to sink my canines into his sternum, drawing blood in the process.
He yelps and jumps back, a snarling curling his lips. The crowd erupts in cheers, and I give him a wolfish grin.
When the third signal is given, we both shift back into our human forms, weapons ready, bodies ready to pounce.
I'm only dressed in black combat pants, red robe neatly folded and handled by Max.
The rival is broader than I am, scars marring his face like he's faced one too many wars. My wolf paces, aggressive and restless.
"Let's see how much of a ruler you can truly be," he says.
I don't respond, and my silence seems to infuriate me.
Then the first strike comes. Fast.
Steels clash, fists meet bones, making the crowd erupt in cheers and fierce growls. We both shift partially, claws slicing through hair, and I manage to cut a large gash through his arm.
He growls loudly, agitated he's not getting his way, and starts to fight dirty; low blows, cheap angles, and even his movements become more aggressive and sloppy, more focused on drawing as much blood as possible, but I maintain my strategies, continuing to fight like a storm contained inside flesh, watching out for openings before striking again.
Then in one final strike, he lunges with a dagger, aiming for my neck but I catch his wrist and twist hard enough to pop his bones. He grunts and falls to his knees. I kick the small dagger in his hand off to the side pressing my face closer to him, I gloat, "Now who's the weak one?"
He gives me a wicked smile, his gray eyes unhinged and taunting. "'please, don't kill me, I have done nothing wrong.'" My fist seizes mid-air on the way to his face.
I frown, wondering what he's saying. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I growl.
"She begged so much for your lives, up until her last moment," he smiles.
My grip on him slackens, heart pounding widely in my chest at his words. No, that's impossible. It can't be...
"Shut up," I shout.
"Liora was such a beautiful woman," he laughs, his eyes glazing over like he remembers a distant memory.
A cold shiver runs down my spine. How is that even possible? He's too young to have ever met my mother.
"You never even knew her. Shut up." I punch him in the face. Blow after blow, but it only makes him cackle, groaning like he enjoys the pain.
"Oh, you'd be surprised." He smirks. Then there's little, Seraphine," he continues.
My blood seizes in my bones, body suddenly going rigid at the one name I never think I'll hear again in my lifetime.
"That poor little girl, who had her life ripped away from her at such a young age," he mocks.
"Shut. Up. I said, shut up!" I roar, driving my fist into his bones until blood splays everywhere.
Then I pause.
That is all it takes. A fraction of a second, an hesitation on my part, then his blade slices into my flesh and pain blooms in my side.
I look down to see the dagger I had kicked aside earlier. He had probably used my distraction to his advantage, and now, it's lodged deep into my side, blood gushing out like water bursting from a layer of stones.
My body weakens, but I don't drop to my knees immediately. I grab his head and smash it into the large stone behind him. His eyes widen and satisfaction fills me at the look of horror on his face.
My wolf surges forward fully, teeth bated and claws tearing into soft flesh. The fight now devolving into raw violence of fur, blood, and snarls.
Then I'm looking over his almost still form, chest heaving and blade pressing into his throat. But he doesn't beg, he only watches me, as if he already accepts his face.
I could have easily thrown him into the dungeons from the start, but now, my pride demands finality.
The blade flashes in the light of the blazing sun as I slit his throat.
He collapses.
I sit there on his body for what feels like hours, head bowed and all the rage in my body suddenly deflates.
Everywhere goes silent, except for the low murmuring coming from the crowd.
This isn't the first time I've taken a life, but it's the first in the presence of my people.
Will they be enraged? Disgusted? Disappointed?
We're all very aware of how these things end, but there's a difference when you're physically present with your two eyes watching.
Footsteps approach from behind me, and my body tenses up again, but it relaxes at the comforting scent of Max, and a particular lavender washing over me. Goddess, that scent distracts me from the stench of coppery blood, the sun baking my skin harshly.
It's only then I feel the damage that has been done to me. the cut is deep, wound gaping like an eyesore, and I groan, tilting sideways, but Max catches me before I hit the ground.
He yells, and more pair of arms surround me, I feel my eyes drooping.
"You fucking idiot," a voice mutters. I squint to find Vanessa squatting beside me, watching me a pained expression on her beautiful face. I reach for her hand, holding it against my chest and she lets me.
I kiss the back of it. "I still won," I whisper.
I don't hear her response as darkness swallows me whole in the next instant.