by KH LeMoyne
“Not all of us are convinced that she’s innocent,” responded one of the alphas at the back. A few rounds of “Hear, hear” rang around the room, but fortunately only a few. Breslin didn’t narrow in on who started the call; he was too busy canvassing the audience area, searching for the source of his growing unease. Something was terribly off, and it wasn’t the alpha speaking. The tone of his comment spoke more to a curiosity to see what would happen next than actually pushing the issue.
“I would suspect you don’t have enough to do, Rurik,” Vendrick said. “I’ll allow a vote. Those votes in favor of Rayven Karndottir’s innocence?”
Hands went up, not all, but most. More than Breslin could have hoped for.
“We need time to consider and review the information,” another alpha shouted.
“Too late,” Vendrick roared. “If this were a test of your honor and ability to lead, some of you would have failed today. Enough of you chose well. I declare Rayven Karndottir cleared of the charge of alpha murder and patricide.”
“What of the true murderer?” someone from the audience challenged.
Vendrick stared into the darkness there. “A tribunal is held only once on this matter. By law, the Karndottir alpha will mete out justice for the murderer of their predecessor.”
“There’s still the issue of a qualified alpha for the clan.” Octavia swept her glance past Rayven as if she were the least relevant person in the room and landed her intense gaze on Breslin. No. He couldn’t comment without giving Rayven away, so he looked elsewhere as Octavia continued. “I mean, since no one scented the alpha mantle on you, dear girl. A latent shifter is no more able to control a rowdy clan than a human.”
“The challenge between Gauthier’s children will resolve that matter,” another said, and a crisp chill blanketed the room.
“Recognition of mantle or not, Rayven Karndottir will hold the title until a challenge determines otherwise,” Vendrick responded. No one objected, though Breslin noted several scowls. He locked away that information, prepared to run detailed checks on those alphas’ holdings. If they were that desperate for more territory, then they were likely stretched to the limits or had poorly managed their own resources. Vendrick’s edict would stop a direct attempt to unseat Rayven, but alphas didn’t rise to power without the ability to manipulate on many subversive fronts.
However, Rayven’s bright eyes gleamed, violet sparks mixed with gold reflecting both disbelief and joy. Whatever came next for her, for them, had to be easier than everything they’d weathered so far.
Breslin lifted his chin toward Grizz, requesting he take over his position at the door. He wanted to be closer to Rayven. Just in case.
On that thought, his disquiet flared into a sizzling streak of warning.
As Grizz moved toward the path to enter the trial area, Jacob snarled and launched over the audience railing.
Predictable. But, as Deacon’s second, Breslin’s job was taking care of threats, and this one would be his pleasure. He shifted into his cat and streaked by Deacon and Rayven.
Jacob barely touched down before he skirted around, his paws sliding, and headed for Rayven. His eyes gleamed orange-red and spittle flew from his open jaws.
What the heck? Jacob wasn’t the smartest person, but he appeared possessed. Feral even.
Breslin blocked his path and paced in front of Jacob. With each figure eight, he edged farther back until he nudged Rayven backward with his rump as he snarled at Jacob.
Deacon growled, his anger vibrating in waves around them. “Stand down, Jacob.”
“She must die. She must die. She must die.” Jacob spat the words, garbled and almost indistinguishable in his wolf form.
Gasps came from the audience and alphas alike. But despite, or perhaps in response to Deacon’s dictate, Jacob bunched his hind feet, ready to plow through whatever obstacle there was to get to Rayven.
“I can take him, Breslin. You don’t need to protect me.” Sweet bliss threaded through him at Rayven’s words. Could she really shift? Fur bristled between his shoulder blades as his cougar scented growing danger. He stalked closer to Karndottir’s second.
“He may not be the only one. Don’t show your advantage yet.”
Jacob lunged. The force of his landing against Breslin’s chest took them both off balance.
Breslin kicked upright with some effort, folded in a turn, and caught Jacob by the tail, flinging him back across the floor into the stone wall below the alphas. How had the wolf mustered so much power? Tempted to perform the half shift and grab the idiot by the throat, Breslin sprang and clamped his jaws around Jacob’s neck.
Kill. Defend our mate. Spill his blood. The urge beat strong within him as he crushed Jacob to the floor. The wolf whimpered, but the red in his eyes didn’t dim.
Breslin clamped his jaw tighter, his own fury rising in a furious heat.
“Don’t kill him,” Rayven said from behind him. “We need answers.”
Her appeal to logic washed over him, and the red haze blinding him to everyone else in the room receded. He shook the wolf beneath him as Deacon strode forward.
“Change, Jacob.”
Jacob maintained his wolf shape. Alpha current sizzled across the floor. Still holding Jacob tight, Breslin couldn’t avoid the bitter assault of Deacon’s power. But unlike the altercation with his alpha before he’d left on his mission, the power muted around Breslin as it hit him and dissipated.
With a high-pitched whine and a quick bone-crunching snap, Jacob reverted to his human form. No doubt feeling the angry kick of Deacon’s power, he lay panting, sweaty, and naked on the ground.
Lena’s bodyguard, Hansen, appeared from behind Deacon and slapped cuffs on Jacob, dragging him to his feet as Breslin shifted back into his human form. Forgoing a shirt, he wore only his jeans as he searched around him for another threat. Clothes only wasted time, and warning bells still screamed in his head. His cougar clawed inside for him to shift back in readiness.
“I hope we are done with the melodrama for the time being,” Barnabas said.
“Well, if not for this entertaining holiday, Deacon,” Octavia said nearly drooling as she eyed Breslin’s chest, “we would never have had a chance to see your second’s mate mark. A shame. I’d hoped to steal him away one day. But you’ve kept him too close.”
Breslin caught the pink flush rising over Rayven’s cheeks but merely raised an eyebrow while he searched the room for what was riling his cat.
As Grizz moved from his spot in front of the children’s door up into the alpha section and flipped on the lights illuminating the room, a voice rang out.
“I challenge Rayven Karndottir for the position of alpha.”
Startled, Rayven looked away from her mating mark on Breslin’s neck.
Her bear wanted to protect her mate from Octavia’s attentions, but Rayven focused instead on the painfully thin woman with short bleached-blonde hair sashaying from the middle of the audience section toward the floor. Her heart still beat too strong with the knowledge that she had a sister and now it seemed, only seconds later, this same new family member wanted to fight her in a death match. Emotions threatened to drown her, but she didn’t have time to deal with her thoughts. She could almost hear Deacon’s words in her head. “As an alpha you need to be prepared to to fight and kill if you want to save your people.”
Based on Nathan’s recounting alone Rayven was certain her challenger was responsible for the deaths and harm to so many in her clan. And there was no doubt about Rebel’s parentage given the hard set of her mouth, so like Gauthier’s, and the cruel gleam in her eyes. As for looks, where Rayven’s hair refused taming and persisted in wild waves, this woman’s short straight hair spiked in irreverent disarray. A popular hairstyle, but Rayven was sickeningly certain the hair had been sleek and ebony when her father was killed. This murderess—her sister by blood if not by affection—was adept at camouflage, laying the groundwork to frame someone else for her crimes.
&nb
sp; “Who presents this claim?” Vendrick asked with his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze hooded. He’d remained passive in the alpha section throughout Jacob’s entire attack and now seemed equally unaffected by her alpha challenge.
“Rebel.”
“Your born name.” Vendrick’s power snapped through the room. Several people in the audience winced as it touched them.
Rebel’s sneer turned to a scowl as she spun his direction, her lips pursed and fists tight against her thighs. That wasn’t a voluntary move, but an external sign that Vendrick was losing his patience and forcing her compliance.
“Charlotte Fermier,” she said, then spat toward him with open disgust.
He made no comment about her display, and turned toward Deacon. “Is this room prepared for a challenge?”
No one answered, and for several long moments, they exchanged looks, then Deacon shot Rayven a glance. “You can refuse, in which case the clan defaults to Char—”
“Don’t use that fucking name.”
With a growl, he continued. “Charlotte would claim the title.”
Breslin turned and blocked her view of Rebel. “She’s planning on killing you.”
“I know that, but I’m prepared.” Rayven wished it weren’t true, since, as shocking as her sister’s acts were, she was still the only blood relative Rayven had left. Part of her balked at the death match she knew was coming. But the clan, the children, and people with love and honor who’d risked everything to help Rayven came first. They were the family who had earned their place in her heart. If Rebel wanted a chance with Rayven, she’d need to ask for one.
“Not if she pulls more stunts like she’s already done framing you. I doubt she’s working alone.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Implicitly,” he responded without pause.
“Then you know I won’t leave my clan to her.”
“Fine. Can I offer you a piece of advice?”
“Is this from you or the assassin?”
“Both. Turn off your conscience and your empathy. Prepare yourself to go for the jugular and fight to the death the minute Deacon seals the fight area. You won’t have time to change your mindset. Use me. Use anything I have to offer. I’m yours.”
Wow. Goddess, she wanted to kiss him. But for now, she’d take the bond he offered. “Got it.”
“One more thing.”
“Don’t give her my back?”
He chuckled, actually laughed out loud, and several alphas turned their gazes toward him. “I love you. So win this challenge.”
With those words, her bear rejoiced, prepared to claw her way to any end to this debacle.
“Rayven,” Deacon interrupted. “I need your consent before I remove everyone from this area and seal the fighting ring. After that, no one will be able to get in or out until there’s a winner.”
Rayven straightened her shoulders, shrugged off her jacket, and laid it across the chair she’d used. “I understand. Thank you for all your guidance, Alpha Black.”
“You earned it, Alpha Karndottir.”
Rebel strode forward. “Enjoy that title while you can.”
Deacon reached out his hand, restraining Rebel by her shoulder. She tried to dislodge him but didn’t succeed. “You will remain in place as the others leave the area.”
A slight twitch pulsed at the corner of Rebel’s eye and Rayven’s beast bunched beneath her skin, burning with a desire to kill the woman responsible for so many innocent deaths in her territory. From Rebel’s low hiss and tightly pressed lips, she’d planned more of the same by using bystanders in her fight. But down and dirty was the way Rayven had survived her years in the clan. Friendship and trust came with shared sweat and tears. Not shared blood.
Rebel knew superficial things about her own sister, and that was the cornerstone of Rayven’s strategy. For as Breslin has mentioned, there was more going on here. A woman brash enough to enter an ancient alpha’s sanctuary after perpetrating murder would want everyone to know her exploits, her victories. Discussions with Lena about the fights in the Black clan territory to save children from this woman confirmed as much.
Get her talking. Keep her talking. Let her see you as vulnerable. Which should work well based on Octavia’s confirmation that everyone discounted Rayven’s alpha powers.
Breslin brushed his knuckles across the back of Rayven’s hand and made his way to Vendrick’s side. Once everyone was clear of the trial floor, Deacon lifted his hand from Rebel’s shoulder and stepped behind the railings and stone walls separating the floor from the other sections. A swift surge rose from the floor paralleling the railing, the opaque glimmer designating a visible force field of some sort.
“Let the challenge begin.”
Rebel shifted into her wolf and launched herself at Rayven before Deacon was even finished, her claws extended and fanged maw gaping.
Rayven swiftly ducked and sidestepped with shifter speed, keeping her human form. She’d battled enough shifter beasts to use her power in a sprint and avoid a mortal strike. Now that she was free to shift, her speed had more than tripled. Bearing part of the Karndottir mantle made her exponentially faster.
Snarling, Rebel skidded and spun back, feet splayed, head dipped, and ears flattened to her head. Rayven moved behind the solid chairs used for interrogation. Now to see if she could distract her unexpected new sibling bent on destruction. “If I’d known you existed, I’d have sought you out. We would have been able to help each other.”
“I didn’t need you then, and I certainly don’t need you now.” Rebel vaulted over the chairs, but Rayven rolled and tumbled to the other side.
Pretty much what Rayven expected, though somewhere deep in her chest that hurt. “Who knows what that would have changed?”
A laugh more like a cough echoed in the space. “You think your sisterly love would have made me a sweet person? Turned me into a shadow sister to sit silently by the side of the alpha’s reviled daughter? Not bloody likely.”
Changing tactics, Rebel stalked along the railing at the edge of the area. With a quick punch she hurled against the force field separating the audience and rebounded back. Whatever barrier Deacon had erected held tight. Rebel glared at Deacon outside the ring. He stood within inches of her. A necklace with a shiny medallion dangled from his fingers as he stared at Rebel with a satisfied smile.
“Think you’re so clever, alpha,” Rebel muttered. “I’ve got magic you can’t even imagine.”
Rayven suspected he could well imagine, and she thanked the Goddess for a mentor smart enough to have discreetly frisked her opponent before the match. Hardly finished with that thought, she flung herself to the ground as Rebel rounded on her again.
A fiery streak of pain along her arm warned Rayven she hadn’t been fast enough and not to make the mistake again. Leaping into the air and spinning, she landed on the balls of her feet on the arm of a chair, barely avoiding the next attack. “If you are so brilliant and powerful, why construct such an elaborate plan to get rid of Gauthier? Or me.”
“Shifter rules, dear stupid sister,” Rebel said as she narrowed her eyes on the alphas over Rayven’s shoulder. “I had the joy of watching the father who’d thrown me away like trash die a humiliating death at my hands. And you—your guilty verdict would have conveniently rid me of a cumbersome problem. Convicted or not, you’ll be dead either way. This worked better. For with a Karndottir alpha in place, I won’t be tried for Daddy Dearest’s death. Or yours.”
“Handy.” Disgusting.
The wide grin the wolf gave her resembled a leer. “I’ve only just started.”
Stalking back toward Deacon, Rebel turned suddenly and faced slightly away from her, hunching down. Puzzled, Rayven waited. What was she—
Rebel charged past her, missing by several feet, and aimed herself at the door to the visitor room securing the children. Her hind paws thundered against the metal door as she did a twist kick.
Rayven jumped to the floor. “It will
hold, right?” But Breslin didn’t answer, even though he had run to the edge of the shield closest to the door. Vendrick had a hand on his shoulder, physically restraining him. What did they know?
Rebel trotted back in front of Rayven. “Forfeit your title.”
Was she crazy? “Hell, no.”
Rebel charged again. This time, the door buckled and the children behind screamed.
“She can control them. Make them shift and do her bidding,” Breslin yelled to her, not bothering with their bond.
“He’s not as stupid as he looks, sister.” Rebel glanced back at Rayven, her eyes pinpoints of black surrounded by orange as she sauntered back to her launching point. “The mindless little soldiers. They squeal and whine. So sad. You or them. Pick.”
Several of the children nearly fell through the cracks in the partially open door in half shifts, but Aubrey, Elijah, and Quinn, just visible through the opening, restrained them. Nathan, in wolf form, threw himself against it with a fury that would send most adult shifters running for cover. Little Hazel, arms clutched around herself, rocked in a tight huddle crying, exposed in the opening.
Rebel merely laughed as she paced, prepared for another assault. “I had you pegged the first time you tried to save one of the little bastards, sister. That’s all they are, you know. Little worthless mixed breeds that don’t have the strength to pull themselves up and take what they want in life.”
Color washed into shades of gray in Rayven’s vision. Her bear was pissed. “Unlike you.”
“Worthless,” Rebel repeated. “Like you with your missing beast.”
She hunched for her attack, waggled her tail, and made a show of waving her snout in the air. Then she snarled and snapped her teeth toward the door, and more shrieks rang out from the room. “Look at it this way, big sister, you won’t die for nothing. After my victory, I’ll end their lives quickly, humanely, as their alpha. And it’ll all be sanctioned by the board—my peers. No one will doubt my ability to guard my territory.”
Dream on, little sister, I’m done playing your game. Rayven sprang to block Rebel’s path. As wolf teeth neared her face, she shifted in an instant.
