Chapter 88 The Vanquished
With a deep groan, Ryker fastened his belt, staring at his reflection in the tall mirror across the room.
“Too soft,” he muttered to himself, tugging at the leather straps across his chest. “That’s always been the problem. Too damn soft.”
He reached for his boot, pacing as he spoke like the walls themselves could hear him vent.
“I gave them mercy, and now they mistake it for weakness.” His jaw tightened. “Apparently, my years of leniency have a price. And today, I pay for it.”
He moved toward the window where dawn was just beginning to bleed into the sky.
From here, the pack looked peaceful.
Ryker reached for the sword resting against the wall and froze when he felt a presence.
Soft arms slipped around his waist, and her scent hit him instantly.
Lyra.
He closed his eyes for a brief second, then exhaled. “You shouldn’t be up,” he said quietly. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
She pressed her cheek on him, holding him tighter. “I tried,” she murmured. “But every time I closed my eyes, I saw you bleeding on the sand.”
He turned slowly in her arms. “Lyra—”
“I know,” she cut in softly. “You’re going to tell me everything will be fine. That Samson is no match for you. That you’ve taken down stronger men.”
He lifted a brow. “Haven’t I?”
She looked up at him, eyes shining with worry. “You have. But this isn’t just about strength.”
He sighed, cupping her face. “I won’t have any trouble taking him down.”
“That’s not what scares me,” she said. “What scares me is that I don’t think you have it in you to kill a pack member just because he challenged your authority.”
“I can't believe you're the one saying this. That man almost killed you. He deserves no mercy.”
She sighed heavily. “I know it was disrespectful, but…”
“What he did wasn’t simple insubordination,” Ryker said. “He challenged me openly before the entire IronFangs after risking your life. And as if that wasn't enough, he invoked the Una’Rah.”
Her fingers tightened in his tunic. “And the rules say the victor must kill the vanquished.”
“Yes.”
“There has to be another way,” she insisted. “Negotiate or refuse the challenge.”
He shook his head. “And be branded a coward forever? He invoked it because he knows I can’t refuse without destroying my position.”
“So you’ll let bloodthirsty men decide what kind of Alpha you become?” she demanded, stepping back to face him fully. “They’ll see you as ruthless and wicked. This is exactly what Samson wants, Ryker. He wants them to hate you.”
“I don’t expect you to understand how these things work,” he replied, his voice low but firm. “You're a woman, Lyra.”
“Then explain it to me,” she snapped. “Don’t shut me out.”
He stepped closer, towering over her but gentle all the same. “If I am seen as merciful and weak, I lose their respect. And once respect is gone, the pack has already fallen apart.”
Lyra stared at him for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “Just be careful,” she said softly. “Your heart will make the right choice for you. Even if your mind refuses to.”
Ryker grabbed her face, his hands firm as he angled her chin and kissed her desperately.
The kiss was hungry, like he was memorizing her. Her breath hitched as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
For a heartbeat, there was only the heat of her flesh and his deep-seated passion for his wife.
She clutched his shoulders, dizzy with desire, until she finally pulled back, gasping.
He rested his forehead against her neck, inhaling deeply, like her scent alone could satisfy him.
“You're facing all this because of me,” she muttered guiltily.
“I don’t care what I have to face to be with you, woman,” he murmured against her skin.
“Sometimes,” she whispered, “I wish I’d never been delivered reborn at all.”
He stiffened. “Is that why you tried to run away?”
She looked down. “I didn’t know what to think. After everything with Rex, I thought maybe it would be easier if I wasn’t here.”
He lifted her chin. “Don’t you ever think that,” he said fiercely. “You are a part of me. Reborn or not, we’ve consummated our marriage all over again.”
She nodded, and he kissed her again. This time, it was soft and feathery.
“I'm glad you didn't allow me to reject you,” he scoffed. “That would have been the most foolish thing I’ve ever done.”
She laughed weakly. “Are you saying all this because of my body? Because I give you pleasure at night?”
“I’m saying all this because of all of you,” he replied without hesitation. “Yes, you give me pleasure at night. But you keep my heart beating during the day. Your strength motivates me to lead. Seeing you return from the dead brought light into a miserable life. I’d be a fool to ever let you go again, Lyra.”
Her chest ached as he said her name, because she knew that one way or another, a decision would be made about her staying back at the IronFangs. Maybe not today, but someday. She had to pick between him and the life she deserved.
She pulled away gently. “You have to get ready. Everyone is already gathered.”
She turned and left before he could see the plans she had carved out already.
A few minutes later, the training arena was filled with voices.
Every werewolf in IronFangs was present, gathered in a wide circle around the sand. Samson stood at the center already, his eyes wild.
Ryker stepped forward with sword in hand.
An elder raised his staff. “By ancient law, the Una’Rah is invoked. The victor shall stand, and the vanquished shall fall. Mercy is forbidden!”
At once, the fight exploded.
At first, Ryker stood still and let Samson take the first strike.
And he did.
Samson fought dirty with wild swings, reckless lunges, and shouting. But Ryker was more controlled and precise, and his strength outweighed that of Samson.
In just a few minutes, Ryker disarmed Samson, slammed him into the ground, blade pressed to his throat. Samson was panting now, broken and bloodied.
“Surrender!” Ryker shouted.
“Never!” Samson roared, his body convulsing as bones cracked and fur tore through skin. He shifted mid-scream, lunging at Ryker in wolf form.
“That’s against the rules!” Dax shouted.
“Wolves are wolves,” the elder replied coldly. “They may fight in any form.”
Ryker barely dodged, but he still overpowered Samson, who had no choice but to shift back a while later, collapsing to his knees.
“Finish him!” someone yelled. “He’s a traitor!”
Ryker raised his sword but didn’t bring it down.
“Surrender, Samson,” he said. “And you might live.”
Samson laughed and then lunged again.
This time, he went straight toward Lyra and grabbed her neck.
“That’s against the rules!” the elder called out.
“If I die,” Samson snarled, “she dies with me—”
But before Ryker could move, Dax reacted faster than anyone could think.
He plunged the sword into Samson’s belly, and the man's face paled as he fell on the sand.