Chapter 89 You're Not Ready Yet
Alberto slipped out of Fernando's chamber with careful steps, the door closing softly behind him. His body still hummed from the intensity of their reunion, muscles loose and warm, but the fresh sting of his back reminded him he needed to clean up before anyone saw the marks.
The pack house corridors were quiet in the early morning, most wolves still asleep or beginning their day slowly. He moved quickly toward his room in the slave quarters, bare feet silent on the stone.
He reached his door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. The small space felt even smaller after the night with Fernando. He went straight to the basin, poured water from the jug, and began washing. Cold water stung the tender skin, but it cleared his head.
He scrubbed gently, rinsing away the evidence of their passion, then dressed in fresh training clothes loose tunic and breeches that would not chafe his healing wounds.
He checked the mirror. The faint scars from the lashes were barely visible now, thanks to Mira's distant healing and the estate medics. He looked almost normal. Almost.
He grabbed his practice sword from the corner and headed to the elite training yard. The pack was waking up fully now, the smell of breakfast drifting from the kitchens, voices calling greetings. He wanted to train, to feel strong again, to prove to himself he had not broken.
The elite yard was already active when he arrived. Swords clashed, feet shuffled, grunts of effort filled the air. Samael stood at the center, arms crossed, watching the drills with a critical eye.
Alberto stepped into the yard, nodding to the guards who saluted him. He moved toward the warm-up circle.
Samael spotted him and stepped in his path, blocking the way with a raised hand. "Hold up."
Alberto stopped. "What is it?"
Samael looked him over. "The Alpha asked me to exempt you from trainings. Said you are still need to rest. And your room is being moved back into the main pack house. Tonight."
Alberto's heart jumped. Joy flooded him, bright and sudden. Main pack house. No more slave quarters. Closer to Fernando. Part of the inner circle.
He smiled. "Really?"
Samael nodded. "His orders. No arguments."
Alberto's joy lasted only a heartbeat.
A snicker came from the group of elites nearby. One voice carried clear. "The Alpha treats him like he is going to crown him. But deep down he requested a mate duel because he was not sure."
The words hit like a slap.
Alberto's smile vanished. He turned sharply toward the speaker, a young elite named Rorik who stood with arms crossed, smirking.
Alberto marched up to Samael, voice low but sharp. "What is the news of the mate duel I am just hearing?"
Samael sighed. "Fernando called it. The elders pushed. He agreed."
Alberto's eyes widened. "He agreed to a duel for a mate?"
Samael nodded. "Yes. Open to all packs. Winner stands beside him."
Alberto's face fell. "He did not tell me."
Samael placed a hand on his shoulder. "He is protecting you. In his way."
Alberto shook his head. "By letting others fight for my place?"
Samael had no answer.
Rorik snickered again. "He is not ready to claim you. That is why."
Alberto turned on him. "Say it to my face."
Rorik stepped forward. "I did. The Alpha is not sure. So he calls a duel."
Alberto's blood roared in his ears the moment Rorik's snicker reached him.
The elite training yard went quiet, all eyes on the two of them.
Rorik smirked wider, crossing his arms. "What? Did I say something wrong? Everyone knows the Alpha doesn't want to claim you. He called for a duel instead. You are a convenient bed warmer, nothing more."
The words landed like a slap.
Alberto's vision tunneled.
He moved before he could think.
His fist cracked across Rorik's jaw with a wet snap.
Rorik staggered back, hand flying to his face, blood already blooming on his lip.
The yard exploded.
Wolves surged forward, shouting.
Samael barked. "Stand down!"
Alberto did not hear him.
He turned on his heel and stormed out of the yard, chest heaving, knuckles stinging. Tears burned behind his eyes but he refused to let them fall yet. He had to find Fernando.
The pack house corridors blurred past him. Guards jumped aside. He did not slow.
He reached the Alpha's study and shoved the door open without knocking.
Fernando sat behind the desk, parchments spread in front of him. He looked up, startled.
"Alberto—"
Alberto slammed the door behind him.
"What is the mate duel?" His voice cracked. "And why was I not informed? We saw each other last night. You held me. You kissed me. You told me you loved me. And you never said a word."
Fernando stood slowly, hands raised. "I was trying to protect you."
Alberto laughed, the sound broken. "Protect me from what?"
Fernando stepped around the desk. "From the elders. From the pack. From the challenges that would come if I claimed you publicly right now. You are not ready to rule beside me. Not yet."
The words landed like a second blow.
Tears spilled over.
Alberto's voice shook. "Not ready."
Fernando reached for him. "Alberto—"
Alberto jerked back. "Do not touch me."
He turned and ran.
Tears streamed down his face as he fled down the corridors, boots pounding stone. He did not know where he was going. He just ran.
The pack house blurred past.
He burst through a side door into the gardens, the cold night air hitting his wet cheeks.
He kept running.
Legs carried him past flower beds, past the fountain, past the training yard where Rorik's words still echoed.
He ran until his lungs burned and his vision swam.
He collapsed against an old oak at the garden's edge, sliding down the trunk until he sat on the grass.
Sobs tore out of him.
He cried for the boy who had survived the auction house, for the keeper who had tamed the forest, for the mate who had just been told he was not enough.