281 The First sh

    Lucian

    bWe /bbleft /bthe hotel to the sound of cheers. People lined the sidewalks, bpping/b, bwaving/bb, /bbwishing /bus luck

    Neev was still under our rule, so the support made sense. But these were uncertain times, and I wasn’t naive benough /bto take those cheers at face value. Loyalty could shift with the wind.

    Right now, trust was a luxury we coul dn’t afford. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

    Denis had arranged for a car, and he took the wheel himself. As we pulled away from the hotel, I closed my eyes briefly and whispered a prayer to the goddess. Let this end soon. Let us alle home.

    b-The /btroops are bin /bbposition/bb, /bDenis linked me as we drove. They’re hidden in the woods around bthe /bbvenue/bi. /ibThere’s /ba small bcrowd /bforming. We’ve embedded twelve bunarmed /bsoldiers among themb, /bdressed like civiliaris. bThe /bbrest /bare bscattered/bb–/bbno /bbheavy weapons/b, bso /bbthey /bbblend /bbin/b. We’re blight /bbon /bbgear/bb, /bbut they know the missionb. /bWith bluck/bb, /bthey bwon’t /bbhave /bbto /bbengage/bb. /b

    b-Thank /bbyou/bb, /bDenis.

    I turned my gaze out the window. The city passed in blurs, but my mind was elsewhere. With Mara.

    She’d called this morning, her voice soft and strong. Just hearing her steadied me. bI /btold her I was fine, even though we both knew how fragile that word could be. Still, I promised her I’de home.

    And I would.

    When this was over, I’d make time for her–real time. Not the scraps left over after political fires and tactical briefings. We were still young in our marriage, still learning the rhythm of forever. We shouldn’t be strangers

    under the same roof. Not now. Not ever.

    When this war ended, I’d find my way back to her–and stay there.

    We finally arrived at the venue. Denis parked a short distance away, and we made our way toward the open

    grounds.

    The crowd was small–barely fifty people. Scattered. Casual. No one looked like military, which was good.

    Some of them were ours, hidden in in sight. Camouged by simplicity.

    In the center stood a man–shirtless, pale under the rising sun. From a distance, he looked like ric. And as

    we got closer, it became clear: it was him.

    I scanned him instinctively. No mark on his neck. None on his shoulder either.

    . He hadn’t been bound to Martha by the mating mark. He’d forced her. That union had never been mutual.

    Another piece of proof of his cruelty.

    My father stepped forward, silent. He peeled off his shirt and walked to the center with calm authority. The

    moment felt heavy. Historic. The air was still.

    “Vander,” ric called out with mock enthusiasm. “You finally grace us with your presence. I half expected

    you to chicken out.”

    His voice dripped with gondescension. A desperate performance.

    ?????

    ?

    My bfather /bdidn’t finch. Didn’t speak. He simply stated. That alone disoko loude

    throw

    ric tried again

    bTve /balways wondered.. What was so special about you that the bwomen /bin my life chose you ove bme/bb. /b

    That one was meant to hit a nerve. But it was also a lie. My mother bhad /bnever belonged bto /bhimb–/bb /btour in

    memoryb. /bHe was just btrying /bto provoke something. Anything.

    b-Don’t /blet him get bin /byour head, Father, I linked him.

    He nced at me and gave a small smile.

    -He’s a bclown/b, he replied calmly. He’s just mad bI /bbgot /ball the women he couldn’t.

    I let out the barestugh. He was going in light, not tense. Not bitter. That gave me hope.

    The moderator stepped forward, voice firm and rehearsed.

    “Spread wide so the champions may fight.”

    The crowd opened up. A wide ring formed under the chopper’s slow hover above us. The sound of des

    cutting through the air only added to the weight of the moment.

    “This is a challenge,” the moderator dered. “A fight to surrender or die. Winner takes it all.”

    He raised his hand and then dropped it.

    The fight had begun.

    Neither moved at first. They circled each other like predators testing the edge of the cage–watching, waiting.

    ric, true to form, ran his mouth.

    My father stayed silent.

    “You’ve been whoring around so long, ric, it’s rubbed off on you,” he finally said, voice cold and cutting.

    You talk like a bitch.”

    That was all it took.

    ric snapped, charging in with a half–shifted snarl, ws elongating, eyes wild. My father met him head–on, also half–shifted. The sh was brutal–flesh and bone straining against raw force.

    They locked in a grapple, arms and legs tangled in what looked more like a bullfight thanbat. Both trying to m the other to the ground. Power rippled through their bodies.

    Then my father shifted his weight–fast, fluid–and flipped ric hard. The bastard hit the ground with a thud, and before he could recover, my father locked him in a hold. It looked mild, controlled… but ric was

    writhing in pain. It was working.

    But then ric fully shifted without warning, his body exploding into fur and muscle. My father released the hold and shifted as well–his ck wolf rising to full size, steady and unshaken.

    They growled, low and guttural, circling again.

    My mark burned faintly on my skin. I forced myself to breathe.

    Then they lunged.

    281 The that sh

    My father’s ws shed across ric’s face–four deep gashes tore through his cheek, bspraying /bblood. He reeled back with a guttural snart. I almostughed from the sheer thrill of it, but I kept still, pulse pounding

    They backed off momentarily, breathing heavy, eyeing each other with deadly calction

    Then they lunged again.

    This time, ric dodged at thest second and raked his ws down my father’s side. A deep gash opened.

    and my father let out a sharp whimper–but he didn’t fall.

    ric snarled in triumph, but my father didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He pressed forward again, and they locked together in another brutal wrestle–both going for the throat.

    ric struck first,nding a bite on my father’s front leg. He mped down hard.

    But my father endured the pain, held steady, and found ric’s exposed neck. He sank his teeth deep, forcing ric to release him with a staggered grunt.

    They pulled apart.

    My father was limping. ric’s neck was bloodied.

    They’d both drawn blood. They’d both cursed each other’s bones.

    And neither of them was close to finished.

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