Chapter Sixty-Six: Simon's POV
"You were shot, silver poison left you unconscious for weeks, enemies moving freely on our territory. Now you wake up and elevate a human girl to a position that should be earned through challenge, through strength and loyalty to our laws. Some might say..."
He spread his hands, adopting a reasonable posture.
"Some might wonder if the toxin affected more than just your body. Perhaps your judgment... has been compromised."
The council chamber fell silent enough to hear everyone's heartbeat.
"I see." I said calmly, then stood up.
Every Beta in the room took a step back.
"You're formally challenging my authority, aren't you, Grey?"
His face paled, but he didn't retreat.
"The law allows it," he said.
"When an Elder believes pack leadership is flawed, I can invoke the ancient ritual. I challenge your Alpha status, in the traditional way, through combat. Winner leads. Loser..."
He swallowed. "Submits, or leaves the pack."
The oldest law, and the most brutal. Fight until one submits or dies. Witnessed by the entire pack, no interference, no mercy expected.
I had won my position this way. I tore through others' muscle and bone, tore through their pride.
Until I flipped them over, exposing their throat, giving me the choice to kill or accept surrender.
I chose this path, and I would walk it until something stronger knocked me down.
Carol jumped up, saying urgently: "Simon, you don't have to—"
"I accept." I cut her off directly.
My eyes never left Grey's face. "Tonight. Training grounds. All pack members present." I pulled my lips into something not quite a smile.
The meeting ended. Elders hurried out expressionless, no one wanting to pick sides before the outcome.
Carol remained seated. Her scent mixed with anger and worry.
"He's younger than you. Faster than you. And you just recovered from silver poison that nearly killed you." She stood up, walked toward me, close enough I could count the gold flecks in her amber eyes, close enough her scent wrapped around me, making my wolf restless in my chest.
"This is insane. Tell him you'll fight when you're fully recovered. Postpone until—"
"Postpone until when?" I kept my voice as steady as possible.
What I really wanted was to push her against the wall, make her understand that the more she cared, the harder this was for me.
"Until he rallies more people? Until the Elders start wondering if he's right? The longer I wait, the weaker I look, Carol. Wolves can smell weakness."
Her hand grabbed my shirt, hard enough I felt her pull on my still-healing wound.
"I don't care about looking weak. I care about you not dying, you stubborn asshole."
Those words hit my vulnerable spot, the place I'd carefully guarded for years.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like if I were the kind of Alpha who could afford tenderness. For a moment, I let myself wonder if I could be the kind of Alpha who could be softer.
Who could share the weight, who could admit the silver poison still burned in my body, admit that thinking about shifting to fight made every cell in my body scream in protest.
But I learned long ago that wanting and having are two different things.
"Then trust that I know what I'm doing," I said, catching her wrist to steady her.
"Your father trained me, Carol. He taught me all the dirty tricks, how to find an opponent's weakness, how to use their strength against them. Grey is good. But not good enough. If he is good enough, if he can truly defeat me..."
I looked into her eyes, letting her see the certainty in mine.
"Then the pack deserves a better Alpha than me."
She stared at me for a long time, face full of conflict.
"Fine." She finally said, yanking her wrist from my hand with more force than necessary.
"When this is over, after you've proven whatever you think you need to prove, we're going to talk about how you have absolutely no idea how to accept help from others."
I watched her walk toward the door. Her whole body tense, filled with anger and frustration. I felt a tightness in my chest, an indescribable feeling.
"Carol." I called after her. "Thank you. For holding the pack together while I was unconscious. I know it wasn't easy."
She didn't turn around, but I saw her shoulders move.
"Just don't make it permanent," she said calmly.
"The pack needs you, Simon. I'm only temporary. You're the Alpha."
Then she left. I stood alone in the suddenly empty room.
Her scent, wild berries and rain, still lingered in the air.
Tonight, I would fight to keep my Alpha position. But over the past eight years, what I'd really been fighting for had long ceased to be about power and territory.
I only hoped I'd survive until tomorrow to figure out how to face it.
A few hours later, the training grounds were ready.
Floodlights cast a harsh white pool of light on the packed dirt, this place where the Valodin family had tested strength for generations.
I stood at the edge of the light, hundreds of eyes watching from behind, but my gaze remained locked on Grey's figure waiting in the center.
He stood with arms crossed, shoulders relaxed, looking completely unconcerned.
He was strong, everyone knew that. Fast, ruthless, and his desperation to win made up for his lack of raw power.
The wound under my shirt still ached.
Every breath sent pain stabbing into my ribs. I knew once I shifted, the wound would tear open again.
Knox was restless in my mind, disliking the injury but anticipating the coming fight.
The pack formed a large circle around the training grounds, bodies pressed close, faces pale in the floodlights.
I could smell their anticipation, that mixture of excitement and bloodlust that always came with challenges.
Near the front, Carol stood rigid, arms wrapped around herself.
Even across the entire field, I could see the worry on her face, see her fingers digging into her arms. Leon stood a bit further behind her.
I removed my jacket, tossing it aside.
The cotton shirt pulled at the bandages beneath, and I felt the wound seeping, warm and wet.
I didn't look down. Showing any weakness now, even just frowning, would be a fatal mistake.
I walked into the light. Each step measured, composed.
Though the wound screamed in pain, every muscle in my body declared Alpha authority.
Grey watched me approach with predatory eyes.
"Thought you might not show," he said loudly, voice carrying to everyone. "Thought you'd find an excuse. Like you did with the Andreas family."
That hit the mark. Whispers rose from the crowd.
Andreas. The family I failed to eliminate, the threat still bleeding us at the eastern border.
Grey knew how to manipulate hearts, how to find weaknesses in my authority and press down until something cracked.
I said nothing. I stopped ten feet from him and began unbuttoning my shirt, movements unhurried, though each motion hurt badly.
The shirt fell to the ground, revealing the bandages wrapped around my ribs, starkly white under the lights.
I saw Grey's gaze sweep over the wound, saw the calculation in his eyes—injured Alpha, weakened Alpha, Alpha who could be defeated.
Grey wasted no time on further words. He began shifting.
One second he stood on two legs, the next he dropped to all fours.
Bones snapped and reformed, skin split, his fur grey-brown, thick and healthy, muscles bulging beneath it.
He shook his body. For his age, he was large, shoulder height almost matching an adult Alpha.